Promessa...

La Môle: Promise me something. They say death always took your lovers. They say you lock their hearts in gold boxes around your bed.

Margot: They do? What else? That at night, wearing a mask, I roam the city, looking for love?

La Môle: One day you'll know who you really are. Promise you won't forget me... the one you shouldn't have loved.

Margot: I promise.