Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
HER ONLY PASSION WAS BEAUTY—BEAUTY WHICH WOULD LAST FOREVER. AND FOR IT—SHE'D DO ANYTHING! Ninon stretched. And purred, almost. There was something lazily catlike in her flexing languid, yet ferally alert. The silken softness of her was not clever enough to remold the outlines of a figure where they were beginning to blur and—sag. No one else could see it—yet. But Ninon could! Again the frown almost came, and again she scourged it fiercely into the back of her mind. Time was her enemy. But she had had other enemies, and Ninon sorted through her meagre store of remembered reading. Some old philosopher had said, "If you can't whip 'em, join 'em!" Crude, but apt. Ninon wanted to smile. But smiles made wrinkles, too. She was content to feel that sureness of power in her grasp—the certain knowledge that she, first of all people, would turn Time on itself and destroy it. She would be youthful again. She would thread through the ages to come, like a silver needle drawing a golden filament through the layer on layer of the cloth of years that would engarment her eternal youth. Ninon knew how. "Ninon, my darling," he whispered huskily. Ninon did not have to make her voice throaty any more, and that annoyed her too. Once she had had to do it deliberately. But now, through the years, it had deepened. His hands rested on her shoulders and he turned her until they faced each other. "Ninon," he said, "you are so beautiful. Let me look at you for a long time—to carry your image with me through all of time and space." Again Ninon let him feel just a hint of resistance, and risked a tiny Ninon said, "But that's three hours, Robert." rest a little." "I'll be more than rest for you." "Yes, Ninon.... Oh, yes." The young spaceman's eyes were puzzled, hurt. "But Ninon, I've told you before ... there is so much of you that I want to remember ... so little time left ... and you'll be gone when I get back...." Ninon let her gray-green eyes narrow ever so slightly as she leaned away from him. But he blundered on. "... or very old, no longer the Ninon I know ... oh, all right. But you "Will it work?" Ninon could not keep the avid greediness out of her voice. Robert leaned forward and buried his face in the silvery-blonde hair which swept down over Ninon's shoulders. "Don't say it, darling," he murmured. This time Ninon permitted herself a wrinkling smile. If she was right, and she knew she was, it could make no difference now. There would be no wrinkles—there would be only the soft flexible skin, naturally soft and Ninon's arms stole around his neck. "The lights," she whispered, "and a little automatic warning to tell you when it's time to go...." The boy did not seem to remember about the third click. Ninon was not quite ready to tell him, yet. But she would.... mumbled. "And I'm going with you," Ninon said. This brought him fully awake. "I'm sorry, Ninon. You can't!" He sat up and yawned, stretched, the healthy stretch of resilient youth. Then he reached for the jacket he had tossed over on a chair. Ninon watched him with envious eyes, waiting until he was fully alert. He stared at her in shocked amazement. Then, as his gaze went over the smooth lines of her body, the amazement gave way to disbelief, and he chuckled. "The way you said it, Ninon, almost had me believing you. You can't possibly be that old, or anywhere near it. You're joking." Ninon's voice was cold. She repeated it: "I am fifty-two years old. I knew your father, before you were born." This time she could see that he believed it. The horror he felt was easy bitter, accusing. Ninon slapped him. He swayed slightly, then his features froze as the red marks of her fingers traced across his left cheek. At last he bowed, mockingly, and said, "Your pardon, Madame. I forgot myself. My father taught me to be respectful to my elders." For that Ninon could have killed him. As he turned to leave, her hand The youth paused at the door and glanced back, making no effort to conceal the loathing she had aroused in him. "What do you want?" Ninon said, "You'll never make that flight without me.... Watch!" permanently—at your age—before I get back. I have nothing to lose, and you have nothing to gain." Venomous with triumph, Ninon's voice was harsh even to her ears. "On the contrary, my proud and impetuous young spaceman, I have much to gain, moments, wordless, at Ninon. Then in defeated tones he said, "You scheming witch! What do you want?" There was no time to gloat over her victory. That would come later. Ninon said, "Tell me, Robert, isn't it true that if a clock recedes from Earth at the speed of light, and if we could watch it as it did so, it would still be running but it would never show later time?" Ninon rushed on. She had studied that book carefully. "And if people travel faster than light, a lot faster, they'll grow younger, won't they?" "I'll try to be sorry for you, Robert." Ninon felt again for her beta-gun as he stared at her for a long minute, his gaze a curious mixture of amusement and pity. Then, "Come on," he added, "I think I shall enjoy this trip, Madame, more than you will." The young man's words seemed to imply a secret knowledge that Ninon did not possess. A sudden chill of apprehension rippled through her, and staring at the ship, staring through the ports at Ninon where she lay, stiff and bruised and sore, in the contoured acceleration sling. The young spaceman swivelled about in his seat. He looked haggard and drawn from the strain of the long acceleration. Despite herself, Ninon could feel the sagging in her own face the sunkenness of her eyes. She nerve-plucking whine that tore into her brain like a white-hot tuning fork. And still it climbed, up beyond the range of hearing, and up and up still more, till it could no longer be felt. But Ninon, as she He did not answer. Ninon lay in the acceleration sling, gaining strength, and—she knew—youth. Her lost youth, coming back, to be spent all over again. How wonderful! No woman in all of time and history had ever done it. She to decelerate. It won't be easy or pleasant. I'll try to make you as comfortable as possible." Ninon felt her face go white and stiff with rage. "What do you mean?" Robert said, coldly brutal, "You're looking your age, Ninon. Every year of your fifty-two!" discharged their energy and ceased to sparkle, leaving only a thin film of dust over all. After a while Ninon got up again from the sling and made her way to the wall. She polished the dust away from a small area of it, trying to make the spot gleam enough so that she could use it for a mirror. She mistake in the calculations of the scientists and engineers who had plotted the course of the ship? Was something wrong? But no matter—she was still Ninon. She was young and beautiful. And wherever she landed there would be excitement and rushing about as she told her story. And men would flock to her. Young, handsome men!

<question>:
What was the narrative purpose of the video that Ninon shows Robert?

<options>:
A It was to show Ninon's love and dedication to Robert as a potential lifelong partner.
B It was to prove that Ninon thinks little of Robert because he's can easily be replaced as a romantic partner.
C It was to show how much thought Ninon has put into making her plan and how determined she is to see it succeed.
D It was to prove that everyone makes mistakes, and that Ninon is comfortable admitting that she's not perfect.

<answer>:

C