XXXVII
THE CONCIERGE-NURSE
In a hasty, violent, nervous disposition, wrath is quick to come; it bursts out violently, but it does not last long; the heart that feels the most profoundly the wounds that it receives, is also the most sensitive to the tears that it sees shed, and it very speedily repents of the pain it has inflicted.
The Comte de Brévanne, who had only a few hours before acquired the certainty that his wife had had a child by Roncherolle, had been unable to control his wrath and his jealousy when their child appeared before him; at the first blush, he had imagined that it was a fresh insult, an additional affront purposely put upon him. All his sufferings, all his anguish had returned to his mind and to his heart, and we have seen how, as a result of all these circumstances, he had received poor Violette.
But when a half hour had passed after the young girl's departure, the count, who had remained alone in his study, had had time to grow calm; moreover, the storm that was in the air had broken, the rain was falling in torrents; at such times nervous people always feel relieved, they breathe more freely, their brain becomes clearer and their irritation falls with the rain.
Brévanne looked about him, passed his hand over his forehead, and said to himself:
"So that girl has gone. How I treated her! why, I must have lost my reason. She came here to ask me for help, for protection, and I brutally sent her away, drove her out of doors. Poor child! is it her fault that she is the fruit of adultery? She does not know who her mother is, as she came to ask me for information concerning her parents. They shamelessly abandoned her, and I turn her out of doors! Can it be that I propose to be as shameless as they? Ah! I behaved very badly. And this storm—great heavens! the rain is falling in sheets. Can she have gone away in such weather?"
The count rang violently and Pongo quickly answered.
"Master, he ring?"
"Yes; that young girl from Paris who came just now to speak to me—where is she? Go and find her, and bring her back; I don't want her to go away."
"Yes, master."
And the mulatto, who had seen no girl, ran all over the house, the courtyard and the garden, shouting at the top of his voice:
"Young girl from Paris! come right back. Master ask for you; master want to see you. She no answer.—Oh! me find you!"
Georget spied Pongo just at the moment that he was applying to a great chestnut tree, saying to it:
"You see young lady who come to speak to master?"
"What are you doing there, Pongo?"
"Monsieur Georget, me look for someone master want, and me no find."
"And you are applying to that tree to learn where she is?"
"Oh! he understand all right; he no speak, but he understand."
"Whom are you looking for?"
"A young girl from Paris, who come to speak to master; he no longer want her to go away."
"A young girl from Paris has been here to see Monsieur Malberg?"
"Yes."
"What was she like, Pongo? Describe her to me."
"Me no see her. It was master, him tell me."
"Who let her in then? Ah! there's the gardener."
Georget ran to the gardener, and Pongo ran about the garden, talking to the trees and the flowers.
"Did you see this girl who came from Paris to speak to monsieur?"
"Yes, to be sure; it was me who let her in and took her to the master."
"Pretty as a picture, on my word; she's a fine slip of a girl."
"Did she tell you her name before you let her in?"
"No, she said it wasn't worth while."
"Did she stay long with monsieur?"
"Why, yes, quite a while."
"And she has gone?"
"Yes, as much as half an hour ago; the storm was just beginning, and when I saw that, I asked her to wait in my house; I told her she'd get wet; but she wouldn't stop; she made me feel bad because she was crying."
"She was crying? What! she was crying when she left Monsieur Malberg?"
"I should say so! big tears too! she looked as if she was in very great trouble, but she started off all the same."
Georget waited to hear no more; he ran to the count, and could hardly say what he wished to, he was so excited.
"Monsieur, the girl who came—a young girl came from Paris,—and talked with you, monsieur?"
"To be sure; well?"
"Why, she went away again, monsieur; and the gardener noticed that when she went away, she was crying, she was very unhappy."
"Ah! she was crying?"
"Yes, monsieur. I ask your pardon, monsieur, for questioning you; but this girl—was it she, monsieur?"
"Violette, monsieur, the little flower girl; the one that—you know, monsieur."
"No, no, it wasn't she;" replied the count, trying to calm Georget's excitement. "Why do you suppose that that girl would come to see me?"
"Mon Dieu! I don't know, monsieur; but as you spoke to her one day, in Paris, I thought that perhaps she might have something to say to you. But it wasn't she who came here and of course that makes a difference; excuse me, monsieur."
At that moment Pongo appeared in the count's apartment, all out of breath, crying:
"Master! master! girl from Paris—I no bring her back, her gone."
"All right, I know it."
"Oh yes; but me know from Thomas,—he meet her in the country, and her out in all the storm! he call to her: 'stop, mamzelle; come, get under cover.' But her run all the time just like her not hear, and her all soaked with water. Poor girl, her get sick for sure!"
The count turned pale, but he concealed his emotion and requested to be left alone. Pongo went back to Carabi, saying:
"He want to go out too; but me no want him to get wet like the young girl; poor girl, in the fields when it storm; that not right!"
Georget said no more; but although Monsieur de Brévanne had assured him that the girl was not Violette, although he dared not doubt his protector's words, yet he felt sad and oppressed, and he deeply regretted that he had not seen the poor girl who had gone away weeping.
Early the next morning, without a word to anybody, the count started for Paris; and he had no sooner arrived than he betook himself to Boulevard du Château d'Eau. The weather was cold but fine; it was one of those beautiful autumn mornings when the sun shines on the yellow leaves and promises a fine day.
It was not a flower market day; but some of the flower girls were in their places, none the less. As the count approached, he looked about for Violette, but in vain. The girl, who was ordinarily so faithful to her occupation, had not opened her booth, had not appeared in her place.
Monsieur de Brévanne waited for a long time, walking back and forth on the boulevard; he entered a café nearby, breakfasted, read the newspapers, and then returned to the place where the flower girl always stood; but Violette did not come.
"She is probably kept away to-day by the necessity of buying flowers for her trade," said the count to himself; "I will go back to Nogent and I will see her to-morrow."
But on the next day, the young flower girl was not in her place, and the count was again obliged to go away without seeing her.
The girl's health had been seriously impaired by the events and the agitation resulting from her journey to Nogent. One does not experience a violent disappointment with impunity; one does not defy the storm and wind without feeling the effects of it. On leaving the coal barge, Violette shivered on her companion's arm, and he noticed it; on reaching her room, the girl had gone to bed at once, and on the next day, despite her earnest desire to attend to her business, it had been impossible for her to rise.
Luckily, Mère Lamort was always at the service of her tenants. The concierge passed her time going up and down the six flights of stairs in her house. Her dog kept her lodge, and barked when anyone entered and attempted to ascend the staircase. At that signal from her substitute, Mère Lamort instantly went to the window of the floor where she happened to be, and conversed from there with the persons who came to see some of the tenants.
Chicotin, who was now deeply interested in Violette's health, finding that she did not come to the boulevard on the day following the evening when he had prevented her from accomplishing her fatal design, did not fail to go and enquire of the concierge, who replied:
"The girl's sick and in bed; I am making her some herb tea, because that breaks up a fever."
The young messenger, whom Mère Lamort's information failed to reassure, climbed the six flights rapidly and entered Violette's room; he found her in bed, with the flushed face and hollow, burning eyes which indicate a violent attack of fever. But the girl smiled at Chicotin and offered him her hand, saying in a weak voice:
"Thanks, Chicotin, for coming to see me; what you said last night was true; that shower has made me sick; but it won't amount to anything."
"Don't you want me to fetch a doctor, mamzelle?"
"No, it's not necessary; it won't amount to anything. Besides, the concierge is very kind, she takes good care of me."
"She is going to bring you up some herb tea; but I will come every day to find out how you are getting on,—twice a day rather than once."
"I don't want to interfere with your work, my friend."
"Oh! that won't interfere with me. In fact, I have a customer in your house, just below you,—a gentleman who isn't always steady on his legs; but just at present he seems to walk very well. Would you like me to tell him to come up to see you? You see, he is no fool; he talks better than I do."
"Thanks, Chicotin, I don't need any company; I am never bored when I'm alone, for I know how to read, I like to read; and besides that, I have plenty to think about."
"But not about such miserable things as you thought about yesterday?"
"No, no; that's all over."
"Good. I spoke to you about your neighbor because he ain't a young man and it wouldn't make any gossip; but if you don't want him to come—Ah! here's Mère Lamort with a pitcher in each hand. You will have something nice.—Good-by, mamzelle, I'll come again soon."
On leaving Violette, Chicotin met Monsieur de Roncherolle on the stairs, going up to his room.
"Ah! are you coming from my room, my boy?" said the gouty gentleman when he recognized his usual messenger.
"No, bourgeois, no; I am coming from the room over yours."
"Over mine? What, are there people perched higher than I am? I thought that I acted as lightning rod for the house."
"Oh, no, monsieur, there's a very pretty young girl, who lives all alone above you."
"Ah! you rascal! I see,—this girl is your mistress!"
"No, monsieur, you don't see at all. The poor girl is adored by one of my friends, and I should never think of such a thing as making love to her, because, you see, I ain't capable of being false to a friend, although I'm only a messenger."
"You are right, my boy, you are right," murmured Roncherolle, hanging his head, "for that doesn't bring good luck."
"But if you knew all that has happened to the poor girl! Just imagine, monsieur, that if it hadn't been for me, she would have jumped into the canal last night."
"Indeed! for what reason? Desperate with love—her lover has abandoned her, I suppose?"
"No, he still loves her, he thinks of nothing but her; he thinks that she was unfaithful to him; he is convinced that she has listened to a fine young dandy who makes eyes at her, and who has boasted of having been her lover."
"And why do you think that it isn't true?"
"Why, bourgeois? Because, last night, when she went aboard the coal barge, with the intention of carrying out her fatal plan, she couldn't have suspected that I was there, hidden behind the coal; and before she jumped into the water, she knelt down, to make a last prayer to the good Lord. She asked Him to forgive her for putting an end to her life, but she said that she didn't feel strong enough to live, despised and humiliated by everybody, abandoned by everybody she loved, when she had done nothing to reproach herself for. When she said that, she couldn't guess that anyone was listening to her, and she was getting ready to die. Well, I say that at such a time she couldn't lie; ain't that right, monsieur?"
Roncherolle tapped Chicotin on the shoulder and smiled.
"He doesn't reason badly, the rascal.—But what does your little protégée do?"
"She is a flower girl, monsieur. Now I think of it, you know her; she is the one you bought a bouquet of the first time I had the honor of meeting you,—when you told me to come with you."
"The deuce! is it possible that it is that pretty, attractive girl? for she is remarkably lovely, this friend of yours."
"Yes, monsieur, yes; she's the one; Violette, they call her."
"But wait a moment—if it's she, why the young dandy who claims to be her lover must be a certain Monsieur Jéricourt."
"Just so, master; Jéricourt's his name—a man who writes plays; do you know him?"
"I dined with him a short time ago."
"Do you know him well?"
"No, thank God! Why do you ask me that?"
"Oh! not for any reason; that is to say, I was thinking that if he was a friend of yours, he might not lie so much to you, that's all."
"No, he isn't a friend of mine by any means.—By the way, you say that this girl is sick; has she enough money to be well taken care of?"
"Oh! yes, bourgeois; she ain't hard up, she sells all she wants to; and then, she has money put by."
"So much the better; who is taking care of her?"
"Your concierge, Mère Lamort."
"I don't know that one can have much confidence in her as a doctor. I will go myself to see this girl, for what you have told me has aroused my interest in her."
"I am sorry, bourgeois, but that can't be."
"What is it that can't be?"
"You can't go to see Mamzelle Violette, because she forbids it."
"How can she have forbidden it? I have never been there."
"Excuse me, but this is how it is: you see, when I was talking with her this morning, I took the liberty to mention you; I told her that she had a very pleasant neighbor."
"Ah! you say such things about me, do you?"
"That you were my customer.—By the way, bourgeois, shall I take a bouquet to Madame de Grangeville from you to-day?"
"No, no, that's all over; you won't take her any more bouquets—from me at least.—But let us return to the flower girl; you said to her——"
"I said to her: 'you have a very distinguished neighbor, who is—who is no fool.'"
"Really, you don't think me a fool?"
"No, monsieur."
"I am very much flattered that you have such a good opinion of me."
"You are joking; but I know what I'm talking about, I tell you!"
"And this girl doesn't choose to receive me because you told her that I was no fool?"
"Oh! it isn't that. I said: 'If you wish, mamzelle, Monsieur de Roncherolle won't refuse to come now and then to sit with you, and he'll be splendid company for you;' and then I added: 'you can receive him without compromising yourself, because in the first place, he ain't young, in the second place, he's gouty, and in the third place—— '"
"Go on, while you are about it!"
"In short, I meant to say that you didn't look like a rake."
"It is certain that I should find it rather difficult to play that part now.—But this extravagant eulogy of my person did not make your friend disposed to see me?"
"No; she said that she didn't need company, that she preferred to think all by herself."
"In that case, my boy, we will let her alone; we must never annoy anybody, especially the sick."
Monsieur de Roncherolle entered his room, and Chicotin returned to the boulevard, saying to himself:
"Shall I go to Nogent and tell Georget all that has happened? If I do, he won't be able to think badly of Violette any more. On the other hand, if I tell him that she's sick, he'll worry and torment himself; he'll want to come back to Paris and perhaps that will displease his employer. I think that I'd better wait until Violette is well before I go to see Georget."
But the next day, the young flower girl, very far from being well, had a higher fever and was slightly delirious; she hardly recognized Chicotin when he came to see her. He said to the concierge, when she approached with several jugs in her hand:
"It seems to me that your patient ain't doing very well, Mère Lamort?"
"Oh, yes! oh, yes!"
"What's that? oh, yes? Why she hardly recognized me, and then she says things that don't mean anything."
"It's the delirium going away; but I've got three kinds of herb tea for her and—ah! there's Mirontaine barking; somebody's coming."
And the concierge put her head out of the round window on the sixth floor overlooking the courtyard.
"Who's there? Who do you want?" she cried.
An old man who had entered the house, looked up and answered in a quavering voice which only reached the fourth floor:
"Have you a Monsieur Dupuis in the house?"
"What? What's that? is there a well—puits—in the house?"
"He used to be an advocate."
"You say it's your trade?"
"He has several children."
"Are you looking for lodgings?"
"Aren't you coming down?"
"You say that you stuff mattresses? What a miserable voice! I wonder if the man has got a cold in his head!—Ah! there's Mirontaine barking again; I must go down.—Coming!—What a nuisance!"
The concierge went downstairs, and Chicotin, after examining Violette again, shook his head and said to himself:
"I don't know whether it's wise to trust to Madame Lamort's three kinds of tea; I don't know much about such things myself, but I see well enough that this poor girl has a devil of a fever. No matter what happens, I shall go down and fetch the old fellow from the floor below."
Chicotin went down to Roncherolle's room, and found him all ready to go out.
"Have you come again to see if you are to carry a bouquet to the baroness?" he asked with a smile; "I told you that that was all gone by; I shan't have any more bouquets to send to anybody."
"No, bourgeois, no, I ain't come for that, but because of your little neighbor upstairs, Mamzelle Violette."
"Well, how is she to-day?"
"Not well; she's as wild as a hawk; the concierge says that that's a good sign, but I don't agree with her; I came to ask you if you would have the kindness to go to see her, because you're better able than I am to judge of her condition."
"So you think that she will be willing to receive me to-day, do you?"
"Pardi! yes, as she don't know whether there's anyone near her, and as just now she thought she was in the country, under the trees."
"I am not a doctor, but no matter, I will go to see this girl, and if I can be of any use to her, I ask nothing better; show me the way."
"Come, bourgeois, we haven't got far to go."
"I can believe that."
Roncherolle followed the young messenger, who ushered him into Violette's room. The attic chamber was not elegant, but it was neat and clean; the furniture was decent and in good condition; in short, nothing in the room indicated poverty, or made the heart ache; on the contrary, there were two large bouquets in two pretty vases.
Roncherolle approached the spotless white bed on which the sick girl lay; she seemed to be in a very agitated sleep. He took one hand which was moist and burning, he felt her pulse, then shook his head, saying:
"The fever is very high, but the skin is not dry; I am glad of that, it is less dangerous."
"You don't like dry skins?"
"I say that I don't think that this fever is dangerous. But what do I see on the mantel?"
"Those are flowers, some of Mamzelle Violette's stock."
"Such enormous bunches of flowers in a sick room! why, there's enough there to kill her, and I'm not surprised that she is out of her head; take them all away at once, throw the flowers out of the window."
"You see, Mamzelle Violette adores flowers, and Mère Lamort, instead of leaving them in a corner of the courtyard, by the pump, where Violette always keeps them, she said yesterday: 'I'll just take two big bunches, and she'll enjoy looking at them as long as she is lying in her bed.'"
"Mère Lamort seems to me too well named; if that's the way that she takes care of sick people, I must congratulate her.—Take all these flowers away, my boy, and give the girl nothing to drink except a very weak infusion of linden, with a few orange leaves: I am no doctor, but I have an idea that that will be enough, and that she will be better to-morrow. But take all these flowers away, don't leave a single one here!"
While Chicotin hastily removed all the flowers from the vases, Roncherolle gazed at the sleeping girl and murmured:
"It would be a pity; she is very pretty, is this child. Where the devil have I seen that face?—Come, my boy, we'll let her sleep; I am going down to give Mère Lamort a talking to."
XXXVIII
THE NEIGHBOR'S VISIT
The next morning Chicotin appeared in Monsieur de Roncherolle's apartment with a radiant face, exclaiming:
"I've come to tell you, monsieur, that you fixed Mamzelle Violette up in fine shape; she ain't out of her head to-day, her fever is much less; in fact, she feels a great deal better; she told me to come and thank you and tell you that she'd come herself as soon as she gets up."
"Thank me! for what? Because I advised giving her linden tea to drink, and because I had the flowers taken out of her room? why, anybody would have said as much as that. Don't let the girl put herself out for such a trifle. However, as she is better, I will go up soon to see her, to bid her good-morning. I fancy that that is not forbidden now?"
"Oh, no! you're a friend of hers now, bourgeois."
"Very good; in that case, announce a visit from her friend of the fifth floor."
During the day, Roncherolle ascended the single flight of stairs which separated him from the flower girl. He found the door open, and entered the room of the sick girl, who was then alone, the concierge having just gone down because she had heard Mirontaine bark.
Roncherolle approached the bed softly; Violette was not asleep and the return of health could already be read in her eyes. At nineteen, sickness often disappears as rapidly as it comes; it is simply the storm which disturbs the tranquillity of a beautiful day, but leaves no traces behind.
When she saw in her room a gentleman whom she did not know, the girl opened her eyes in surprise and started to speak, but Roncherolle very soon reassured her, saying:
"Mademoiselle, I am your neighbor from below—indeed, I could not very well be from above; excuse me for intruding upon you thus, but Chicotin asked me to come up yesterday to see you, because he was anxious about your condition; to-day he came to tell me that the draught I ordered had done marvels, that you were almost well. As I did not deem myself capable of executing so rapid a cure, I wished to satisfy myself with my own eyes as to whether he had told me the truth; but if I disturb you, if my presence annoys you, tell me so frankly, and I will go away at once."
Roncherolle's courteous and amiable tone instantly banished the girl's embarrassment, and she replied with a smile:
"Oh, no! it doesn't annoy me, monsieur. It was you who were kind enough to come up to see me yesterday; Chicotin told me, and I should have come to thank you—excuse me—pray take a chair."
"Then it's understood that I don't disturb you? In that case, I will take a seat and talk with you a moment; shall I?"
"Yes, monsieur, you are very kind."
"Let us not stand on ceremony any longer, now that we know each other. All the necessary courtesies have been performed, and I am a neighbor come to chat with a neighbor; and when his neighbor has had chatting enough, she will show her neighbor the door."
"Oh! monsieur——"
"No, never fear, I shall know enough to show myself the door. First of all, I am glad to see that you are really much better; I will wager that two days hence you will not have a sign of your illness."
"Oh! I hope not, monsieur; then I shall be able to go back to my flower stand."
"Yes, but you must not be imprudent, and go out too soon. I am well aware that to keep one's room is not amusing, when one is all alone. Oh! I know all about that, I have had too much experience; but at my age reverie is melancholy, whereas at yours it should be rose-colored."
"Not always, monsieur."
"Have you no parents?"
"No, monsieur, I have none."
"Poor girl! and despair had taken possession of your pretty head, and you proposed to die?"
"What! you know, monsieur?"
"Yes, yes. Chicotin told me that whole story; he is very fond of talking, is that fellow; he told me that your lover, no, I mean the young man who is in love with you, had ceased to speak to you because he thought that you had listened to a young dandy; you see that I am well posted."
"Georget believes me guilty, monsieur. I know that appearances are against me, but I assure you that Monsieur Jéricourt lies; it was he who prepared the trap into which I fell."
"A trap! come, while we are alone, suppose you tell me all about it; I should not be sorry to know the whole story—that is, unless it tires you to talk."
"No, monsieur; besides it will not take long."
Roncherolle drew his chair nearer to the sick girl's bed, so that she might not raise her voice, and Violette began:
"Some time ago, monsieur, I was at my flower booth on Boulevard du Château d'Eau."
"Yes, I know where it is."
"A servant came to order a handsome bouquet, and gave me one hundred sous in advance, saying to me: 'You must carry this bouquet to Madame de Belleval's, Boulevard Beaumarchais, number 88; be sure to take it up to the lady yourself, because she wants to order others for a wedding.'—I accepted the order, monsieur; for you see, a bouquet for a hundred sous is worth the trouble; we don't sell many at that price on the boulevard.—The servant went away. When I had made a magnificent bouquet, I asked a neighbor to look after my booth, and I hurried to the address that was given me. I arrived there and asked the concierge for Madame de Belleval. He hesitated for a moment, then said: 'Go up to the fifth floor, the door to the right.'—Ought I not to have gone up, monsieur?"
"Why thus far I see no reason why you should have hesitated."
"I reached the fifth floor, and rang at the right hand door. A woman answered the bell. I asked for Madame de Belleval.—'Come in,' she said.—'But I simply have a bouquet to deliver.'—'Come in all the same,'she said; 'madame wants to speak to you;' and she opened the door of a small salon where I saw nobody, and left me there, saying: 'Wait, she will come.'—Should I not have gone in, monsieur?"
"Why not, my child? There was nothing to arouse your suspicion so far."
"I waited for a few moments, then a door opened; but instead of a lady, I saw Monsieur Jéricourt come in; a man whom I detest, and who had been pestering me for a long while with his love and his insulting propositions; he is a swell who thinks that a woman, especially a flower girl, cannot resist him."
"I know him; go on, go on."
"When I recognized that man, I guessed that I had fallen into a trap; I tried to go away, but he held me and began to talk to me of his love; he laughed when I reproached him with his treachery, and dared to tell me that I had no choice, because we were in his rooms and no one would come to my help. Ah! if you knew, monsieur, what strength despair and indignation gave me then; I began to shriek. Monsieur Jéricourt tried to kiss me, but I clawed his face so that he had no inclination to try again! He was furious with rage, but he let me go, and as you can imagine, monsieur, I left the room instantly. But it seems that there was somebody on his landing when I went out: that little squint-eyed young man, who lives in the same house, saw me come out all excited and upset. It is quite possible that I was; but I was so happy to escape, so terrified by the risk I had run, that I saw nobody; I was no longer in that man's power, that was my only thought; and I am sure that I went downstairs very quickly.—That is the whole truth; that is how I happened to go to Monsieur Jéricourt's, without a suspicion that that was where I was going; but that is exactly what took place there—I swear it to you, monsieur; and may the good Lord prevent me from ever leaving this bed if I have lied in any one detail!"
Roncherolle gazed attentively at the young girl while she was speaking, and for the first time in his life, perhaps, he felt deeply moved. He pressed Violette's hand, and said:
"I believe you, my child, I believe you. In fact, there is nothing improbable in your story; it isn't the first time that a pretty girl has been lured into a trap in this way. It is very wrong, but still I could forgive this Jéricourt, if, having failed in his attempt, he had admitted his defeat; but when you were virtuous, when you resisted his attack, to go about proclaiming that he had triumphed over you, that you had yielded to him—why that is going too far, deuce take it! Men ruin enough women who are willing to be ruined; they should not ruin those who object!"
"Oh! how glad I am that you believe me, monsieur!"
"But do you mean to say that when you told all this to your sweetheart, he refused to believe you?"
"He has never given me a chance to justify myself; he ran away from me without deigning to listen to me."
"Be calm, and get well; before long, he will do you justice, and will himself ask your pardon for having suspected you."
"Do you think so, monsieur?"
"I am sure of it."
"You make me very happy, monsieur."
"I no longer believed myself capable of making a young girl happy, and I am exceedingly proud. I am very glad that you have told me this whole story, my little neighbor; and on your side, I hope that you will not regret it."
"How kind you are to take an interest in me, monsieur."
"Now we have talked enough and I must leave you; rest, sleep, and everything will go well; but above all, no more flowers in your bedroom!"
"Oh, no! you see that there are none here now, monsieur."
"There is still one—but that one will never do any harm."
Roncherolle went away, and the girl fell asleep.
XXXIX
PURE LOVE
For several days the Comte de Brévanne walked upon the boulevard where the pretty flower girl ordinarily stood, to no purpose. At last, after allowing three days to elapse without going to Paris, he went thither again, and as he drew near the Château d'Eau, he saw that Violette was once more in her place.
Violette did not notice the gentleman who approached her and halted in front of her flowers. But on raising her eyes and recognizing Georget's protector, the man who had treated her so harshly and turned her out of his house, the poor child shuddered and had not courage to utter a word.
"Yes, it is I, mademoiselle," said the count, imparting to his voice its mildest intonation; "I frighten you, I see; you lower your eyes in order not to meet mine. Oh! do not be afraid; you would not read in them any trace of anger, but rather an expression of sorrow; for I behaved very badly toward you, poor girl! But at that time cruel memories led my reason astray; since then I have realized how unjust, how cruel I was to you, when you came to ask for aid and protection; and so, on the day after that scene, I came here to ask your pardon."
"Pardon! pardon!" murmured Violette, not daring as yet to believe what she had heard, and timidly raising her eyes to Monsieur de Brévanne's face. "Ah! is it possible, monsieur? Then you no longer despise me?"
"I have never despised you, my child; I simply vented upon you a fit of anger which never should have touched you; for you are not the guilty one.—Once more, are you willing to forget my injustice? Are you willing to forgive me?"
"Oh! with all my heart, monsieur; I have never been angry with you, but it made me very unhappy."
"Have you been sick, that you have not been here selling your flowers?"
"Yes, monsieur, I have been sick; but only for a week; it is all over now, and I have forgotten about it."
"But you are still pale and changed."
"It is the result of the fever; but I feel better, and now, monsieur, that you have told me that you are not angry with me any more, why, I feel perfectly well; it seems to me that my strength has come back to me, and that my health is as it was."
"I am glad to hear that, for your absence from this place worried me a great deal; and if I had known where you lived, I should have gone to inquire for you."
"And—and—is he still with you, monsieur?"
"He? You mean Georget, do you not?"
"Yes, monsieur, Georget."
"To be sure; but he didn't come with me; I left him at Nogent. I must also confess to you, my child, that I didn't tell him that you had been to Nogent; after what happened, I knew that I should simply make him unhappy; and before telling him anything, I wished to see you again."
"You did well, monsieur."
"However, as the winter is approaching, we shall return to Paris in a few days."
"Will he come back with you?"
"Yes, I shall bring him with me; I shall find work for him here; he is an intelligent fellow and he writes well—it would be a pity to have him continue as a messenger."
"And you will return soon, monsieur?"
"Yes, and then I expect to see you again; you will not be afraid to come to my house? you won't bear me a grudge?"
"No, no, monsieur, I shall be at your service."
"I still have a—a certain handkerchief of yours; I am keeping it as a sacred trust; but do not fear, I will return it whenever it is likely to be of any use to you."
"Oh! I don't want it, monsieur. You know better than I if I can—if I ought to hope to find my parents some day. But no, I probably shall never find them, and I had better give up thinking about them, hadn't I, monsieur?"
"You must come to see me in Paris; I shall probably return next week. Georget will let you know."
"Georget! do you think he will speak to me?"
"I think that he will ask nothing better; for he has been very unhappy about not coming to Paris these last few days, the poor boy!"
"Oh! how kind you are to tell me that, monsieur!"
And tears of joy glistened in the pretty flower girl's eyes. The count, with a friendly nod, walked away, bidding her au revoir, and leaving in the girl's heart so much joy and happiness that there was no room there for the memory of her past sorrow.
While these things were taking place in Paris, Chicotin, seeing that Violette had recovered her health, had started early in the morning, on foot, for Nogent, in order to tell Georget all that had happened to the young flower girl.
Chicotin had found his former comrade walking sadly back and forth on the lawn in front of the count's house, gazing with a melancholy air at the Paris road, by which Monsieur de Brévanne had departed, without bidding him accompany him, and wondering why he went to Paris so often.
At sight of his friend, Georget uttered a joyful exclamation and threw himself into Chicotin's arms; whereupon the latter, without stopping to rest or to take breath, proceeded to tell his comrade all that had happened to Violette,—her journey to Nogent, her despair, her illness, and finally her recovery.
It would be difficult to describe Georget's state during this narrative; listening intently, choking with grief, weeping and uttering cries of joy in turn, he exclaimed:
"She is not guilty! what joy! poor girl, turned away, determined to die! Oh! mon Dieu! I should have died too!"
He hardly gave his friend time to finish his story; he leaped on his neck, embraced him, kissed him again and again, stammering in a voice broken by sobs:
"It was you who saved her; it was due to you that she did not throw herself into the canal, where she would have died; for so late at night no one would have seen her, no one would have taken her out of the water! Ah! I love you almost as much as I do her; I pray for only one thing, and that is, that I may be able to prove my gratitude some day!"
"Well, well! what a silly fellow! here's a lot of talk for the simplest kind of an action: a man sees a girl trying to kill herself, and prevents her—I should like to know if that thing isn't done every day; any boy in the street would do as much."
"So it was really she who came here! My heart guessed it, but that cruel man deceived me; he told me that it wasn't she, because he had made her cry and had turned her out of the house with harsh words! Oh! that was shameful, and I will not stay any longer in a house where Violette received such an affront. Wait here for me, Chicotin."
"What are you going to do?"
"Pack up my things, and I'll go away with you; my mother will come after us."
"Bah! more nonsense! what does this mean? You mean to leave a man who has never been anything but kind to you, in such a way as this, without even saying good-bye to him? A man who, when your mother was sick and you hadn't a sou, gave you all that you needed to take care of her; a man who has taken you into his family, with your mother, and quartered you in this little château, where you are living like pigs in clover—you yourself said so? Well! that would be pretty! and you talk of gratitude, and this is the way you propose to treat your protector!"
"What difference does it make what he has done for me? He made Violette so unhappy by turning her out of this house that she wanted to die, and that she would have died without you!"
"As if he could have guessed that! You must see that this gentleman must know Violette's parents, and that they have played some vile trick on him, and that there's some deviltry in all this that we don't know about."
"I don't care; I propose to go to Paris and ask her to forgive me for suspecting her."
"So far as that goes, you will do well; but that ain't any reason for leaving your protector, for behaving mean to him, and I don't propose——"
"Hush! here he is!'"
Monsieur de Brévanne had returned from Paris. He saw the two young men. He observed Georget's excitement and agitation, and, divining a part of the truth, he went at once to his protégé, and asked him, pointing to Chicotin:
"Who is this young man?"
"He is a friend of mine, monsieur, an old comrade; he is Chicotin, whom I've mentioned to you once or twice."
"Ah! yes, I remember. What does he want?"
"He came, monsieur, to tell me that Violette tried to throw herself into the water, when she left this house after you had driven her away; for it was she, monsieur, it was really she who came here, and you told me that it wasn't.—Poor Violette! but for him she would not be alive, and I—my mother would not have any son!"
Georget burst into sobs. Chicotin twisted his face and mouth, and did his utmost not to weep with his friend. Monsieur de Brévanne, who was deeply moved himself, tapped Chicotin on the shoulder, saying to him:
"You are a fine fellow; I shall not forget it."
Chicotin took off his hat and passed the back of his hand over his nose and eyes.
"And you, Georget," continued the count, "you are very angry with me, aren't you? But your young friend Violette has made her peace with me; won't you do as she has done?"
"Violette! monsieur has seen Violette? Is it possible?"
"Yes, my dear boy, and to-day isn't the first time that I have tried to express to her my regret for what had taken place. On the very next day after her unfortunate journey, I went to Paris expressly to see her; but she was not in her place; you must have noticed that I went to Paris several days in succession."
"That is true, monsieur."
"It was always in the hope of meeting Violette; but I did not find her."
"Because she was sick, monsieur," cried Chicotin; "because she was confined to her bed with fever."
"I know it, my boy; she told me all that just now; but she is in her place to-day; and now she is not angry with me any more, and she hopes that you will not be angry with her, Georget; for I told her that you would go to see her; did I do right?"
Georget, who passed as quickly from wrath to affection as from sadness to joy, seized Monsieur de Brévanne's hand and squeezed it violently, crying:
"I was wrong to think that you were unkind, I ought to have known that it was impossible. Oh! let me go at once to see her, monsieur, to ask her pardon for thinking her guilty, to tell her that I have never ceased to love her."
"To-day? Why, it is quite late."
"It is only four o'clock, monsieur, and at six I shall be in Paris; at ten o'clock I will be back again. You will let me go, won't you, monsieur?"
"As I made you unhappy, I must make up for it."
"Ah, monsieur!"
"Go; I will tell your mother that I sent you to Paris on an errand; do not come back until to-morrow morning in order not to run the risk of being on the road so late."
"Oh! thanks, monsieur, thanks a thousand times!—Come, Chicotin, let us go."
"But I haven't had a chance to rest or to eat anything!" muttered the young messenger, making a wry face.
"Come, come; I'll treat you to supper."
"Fichtre! the bill of fare will have to be long then."
"Here, my boy," said the count, putting a twenty-franc piece into Chicotin's hand; "here is something for your supper; I propose to treat you, for Georget is quite capable of starting off without any money."
"Thanks, monsieur, we will have a little spree, eh, Georget?—Why, where is he? Out on the road already! Bless my soul! he is capable of making me run all the way to Paris."
Georget was going at the speed of a Basque; Chicotin succeeded in overtaking him, however, and said as he trotted along beside him:
"We'll take a carriage at Vincennes. I have some money, for Monsieur Malberg gave me twenty francs; there's a fine man for you!"
"Why take a carriage? we can go faster on foot."
"Oh, no! not much! and even if we could, is it worth while to use ourselves up and arrive in Paris sick, or to be sick to-morrow? And besides, what hurry is there now? You are sure to find her,—she won't fly away."
"Ah! you are not in love, Chicotin! you don't know what it is to go back to the girl you love; and it seems to me that I have been away from her for years."
"Ah! there's a coucou.—I say, driver, two seats for Paris!"
"On the box, if that suits you?"
"I should say so; we adore the box."
The two friends mounted to the driver's seat. Each moment Georget was tempted to seize the whip and lash the horse, which did not go fast enough to suit him. The driver defended his horse and his whip, and Chicotin's hands were full in trying to keep peace on their seat. At last they arrived in Paris, and Georget said to his friend:
"Go to the wine-shop on the corner of Faubourg du Temple, and wait there for me; then we'll have supper. Au revoir."
And he disappeared like a flash from the eyes of his friend, who said to himself:
"Oh! run as much as you please now; I have no desire to follow you, for I don't propose to ruin my liver."
Georget was not at all anxious that his comrade should go with him to find Violette; when one has been parted for a long while from the girl he loves, when one has been at odds with her, one desires to see her again without witnesses; secrecy, aye, and silence, must preside at that interview, for one speaks with the eyes as much as with the voice, and any witness is a nuisance at such a blissful moment.
Georget drew near the Château d'Eau. It was flower market day, and although the weather was already a little cold, there were still enough people on the boulevard for the young man to approach without being seen by Violette. He spied her at last, but there were two ladies in front of her, selecting bouquets. So that he was fain to be content to look at her, to devour her with his eyes. He drew nearer and nearer, keeping behind her customers. Suddenly, as she raised her eyes, the young flower girl saw Georget standing like a statue and gazing at her as a repentant sinner gazes at a Madonna. Violette blushed and turned pale in quick succession. But her young friend's eyes were so expressive, they implored her forgiveness so eloquently, that the flower girl bestowed her sweetest glance upon him, and being unable as yet to speak to him, began to cover with kisses a small bunch of violets, which she then proceeded to drop on the ground, and which was almost instantly pressed against Georget's lips.
At last the customers went away, and Georget was able to approach.
"How happy I am to see you again, Violette! oh, how long the time has seemed to me while away from you!"
"Ah! I suspected you, Violette, I accused you! I know that I was wrong; will you forgive me for thinking you guilty?"
"Yes, I forgive you, for appearances were against me; and even now you have only my word for a proof of my innocence."
"That is enough, and hereafter I want nothing else."
"But I should like right well to force the man who slandered me to tell the truth."
"Let us not talk of that now; I am so happy! I was dying of ennui away from you, dear Violette. If you knew how I love you!"
"Mon Dieu! Georget, I realized that I loved you too, since your desertion caused me so much pain and unhappiness."
"Dear Violette! what joy! you love me, you tell me so! there is no one on earth happier than I am."
"And I am very happy too."
"I am eighteen years old now, Violette, and I can marry you."
"We have time enough, my dear, now that we are sure that we love each other; can we want anything more?"
"We will be married, all the same; you will be my wife, won't you, Violette?"
"What a question! when I refuse to be anybody else's!"
"Ah! it is nice of you to say that!"
"But it is growing dark; it is late, Georget; will you help me to close my booth and carry my flowers away? As I have been sick and am not very strong yet, I must not stay out late."
"You are right, you mustn't endanger your health. Give me all the flowers, all the bunches you have left; I will carry them, and this tray and the chair."
"Oh, no! I can carry something myself, Georget."
"Give them all to me, I beg."
"No, monsieur, for then I shall look as if I were lazy."
The two young lovers soon had the booth closed. Then they walked toward Rue de Crussol, Georget never weary of gazing at Violette, and she always smiling at Georget.
"So you have changed your lodging, have you?"
"Yes, I live here now, right up at the top; but it is very pleasant; and then it is a very decent house. I have a little corner of the courtyard where I keep my flowers, near a pump; it is always cool there.—Good-night, Georget."
"What! are we going to part already?"
"You know very well that you can't come up to my room, Georget, you who are my sweetheart; that wouldn't be proper."
"Oh! I have no idea of asking you to let me do that, Violette; but suppose, after you have put your flowers in the yard, you would take a little walk with me on the boulevard; we have been together such a short time."
"All right, I will do it; but we mustn't walk long."
"A few minutes, that's all."
Violette went in to arrange her tray and her flowers; then she returned to Georget, passed her arm through his, and they walked away, talking together, looking at each other, pressing against each other, happier than the great ones of the earth, happier than the millionaires, happier than all those whom people envy; for true love and youth!—you would seek in vain to find anything superior to these.
Meanwhile the evening advanced, and the two lovers, who had not begun to weary of looking at each other, of squeezing each other's hands and of repeating that they would love each other forever, could not make up their minds to part. When Violette said: "I must go in," Georget replied: "Just a minute more." When he expressed a fear that she was cold, she reassured him by saying that the walk would do her good.
But Chicotin, who was not in love and who was dying of hunger, waited in vain for his friend to join him at the place he had appointed. Weary of waiting, Chicotin went to the flower market, but found no one there. Then he went to Violette's abode, and asked the concierge if the young flower girl had come home; and Madame Lamort informed him that, after putting her flowers in their place, she had gone out on the arm of a very young and comely man, saying that she would soon return.
Chicotin sat down on a carriage stone, muttering:
"For a convalescent, Mamzelle Violette is very imprudent, to walk about so long after dark."
"That's what I told them!" cried the concierge. "But as Mirontaine barked at that moment, I guess they didn't hear me."
Chicotin had been on sentry duty for half an hour, when Monsieur de Roncherolle, on his way to his room, spied him and said:
"What are you doing here, my boy?"
"I am waiting for my friend Georget, who is walking with Mamzelle Violette, bourgeois."
"Ah! so this Georget is——"
"The fellow who loves her so dearly, who suspected her of having gone wrong, and who came to-day to beg her pardon, because I went to Monsieur Malberg, your friend's, at Nogent, where he lives——"
"To Monsieur Malberg's; you mean the friend who came to see me on Rue de Bretagne?"
"Yes, bourgeois."
"And who was the cause of my moving!—Look you, Chicotin, if you take it into your head to mention me to your friend again, and to tell him that I live in this house, I warn you that I will pull your ears so that you can cover your nose with them!"
"Never fear, bourgeois; I won't mention you; I have no desire to force you to move again."
"You will do well."
"Ah! here are the lovers coming back at last!"
"Then I will go up to my room."
"And I am going to supper! I am not sorry for that."
XL
MORE BOUQUETS
Six days after that evening, Monsieur de Brévanne returned to his rooms in Paris, bringing Georget and Pongo. Worthy Mère Brunoy, who enjoyed the country immensely and who was beginning to understand that her son was becoming reasonable enough to be able to do without her, had asked permission to remain at Nogent, where Georget had promised to go to see her twice a week.
On the day following his return to Paris, Monsieur de Brévanne went to see Violette and said to her:
"My dear child, I am going to give you an errand to do; it is not a dangerous one, for it is a bona fide lady to whom I am sending you."
"Oh! monsieur, when it's you who send me, I will go wherever you please."
"Well, it is another bouquet for you to carry; you will make a very fine one, and go to Madame de Grangeville's, Rue Fontaine-Saint-Georges, number 19."
"Very well, monsieur."
"That is not all; you will take the bouquet up yourself, and ask to be allowed to hand it to the lady in person—in person, you understand; I shall be very glad to have her see you. It is probable that she will ask you from whom you come, and you will tell her that you do not know, that it was a gentleman who sent you on the errand, with many compliments from him. If she asks you to describe him, be very careful not to draw my portrait—wait a moment,"—and the count, trying to recall the features of Monsieur de Merval, continued: "You will tell her that it was a gentleman, stylishly dressed, of distinguished bearing, and medium height; who is no longer young, but who has almost the look of a young man; of light complexion, with rather a red face.—Can you remember all that, Violette?"
"I have not lost a word, monsieur."
"I am teaching you to lie, but under these circumstances I assure you that it is excusable. Try to talk a little with the lady, but be very careful never to mention my name in the conversation, and not to say that you have been at Nogent."
"Very good, monsieur."
"If this lady should ask you any questions about yourself, about your family, say simply that you are an abandoned child, that you have never known your parents."
"When I say that, I shall not lie, monsieur."
"No; but say nothing more, do not mention the embroidered handkerchief, and above all things, do not mention the name of Evelina de Paulausky. Be sure, my poor girl, that I give you all these instructions in your own interest."
"Oh! I have no doubt of that, monsieur; but,—forgive me for this question—did this lady ever know my mother?"
"It may be that through her we may succeed in finding her; but to obtain that result, it is necessary that she should know nothing at first of any of the peculiar facts concerning you; that will seem to you most extraordinary, no doubt, my child; but have confidence in me, and if you still have a mother, I will restore her to you, yes, I will restore her to you."
"Then you are not sure that she is still alive, monsieur?"
The count was silent for a moment, then replied:
"No, no; but go and deliver this bouquet, Violette, and forget nothing of what I have enjoined upon you. On your way back from Madame de Grangeville, come to my rooms, and tell me the result of your errand."
The count walked away. The young flower girl hastily made a bouquet of the freshest and prettiest flowers in her stock. Then she set out for Rue Fontaine-Saint-Georges, greatly surprised at the emotion which she felt at having so simple an errand to do. But the injunctions of Georget's protector led her to think that the person to whom she was going knew the secret of her birth, and she said to herself that it was that idea that made her heart beat so fast.
"Madame," said Mademoiselle Lizida, opening the door of the small salon where her mistress was sitting, "there is someone here with a bouquet for you."
"A bouquet! somebody has sent me a bouquet?"
"Yes, madame."
"Well, if it's that Savoyard again, from Monsieur de Roncherolle, I don't propose to receive him; send him away, him and his bouquet; I don't propose to have any further relations with his master. Bah! that man disgusts me!"
"Oh! it isn't the messenger this time, madame; it's a very pretty young girl, really very pretty, and the bouquet is magnificent. I am very sure that it comes from someone else."
"Do you think so? that makes a difference; show the girl in."
Violette was ushered into Madame de Grangeville's presence; the flower girl was agitated, trembling, and her cheeks were a brilliant scarlet; but that emotion simply added to her beauty, and the baroness at sight of her, exclaimed:
"Why, the girl is very pretty, really! very pretty, indeed!"
Violette made a curtsy and offered her bouquet.
"You have brought me a bouquet, mademoiselle?"
"Yes, madame."
"It is very handsome, very tasteful.—But from whom do you come? for I must know to whom I am indebted for this attention."
"I do not know, madame."
"You don't know? Ah! you mean that you were told to keep it secret. But, you know, between women such secrets should be transparent. Come, my girl—why, she is really very pretty indeed!—who sends you? For of course you did not come here of your own motion."
"Madame, it was a gentleman who came to me at my place, at my booth."
"Ah! so you are——"
"A flower girl, madame."
"And where is your booth? on Rue de la Paix?"
"No, madame, on Boulevard Saint-Martin, near the Château d'Eau; I sell out of doors."
"Poor girl! an open air flower girl! what a pity, with that pretty face!—But to return to our subject: a gentleman came to you and told you to bring this bouquet?"
"Yes, madame."
"And he gave you no other message for me?"
"No, madame—that is to say, he said: 'You will also offer the lady many compliments from me!'"
"From him? What sort of looking man was he? Did he walk with difficulty, leaning on a cane?"
"No, madame, this gentleman had no cane, and he walked very well."
"So much the better! so much the better! you set my mind at rest.—About how old was this stranger?"
"Why, he is no longer young, madame; and still he has the appearance and manners of a young man."
"Ah! very good; I am on the track; he is a very stylish, well-dressed man, is he not?"
"Yes, madame, he was very well-dressed; and his manner was very distinguished."
"What is the color of his hair?"
"He is light-haired, with a rather red face."
"Enough! enough! I know perfectly now who it is."
And Madame de Grangeville, leaning toward her maid, who was behind her chair, said in an undertone:
"It is he again, I was sure of it; it is Monsieur de Merval.—Well, what are you looking at so attentively, Lizida?"
"I was looking at this girl, madame, and the more I look at her—why, it is perfectly amazing! is it possible that you haven't noticed it, madame?"
"Noticed what, pray?"
"This pretty flower girl—for she is pretty, is she not, madame?"
"Yes, very pretty indeed; well?"
"Why, madame, she looks like you, yes, she looks very much like you!"
"Do you think so?—Yes, there is in fact something in her features, in her mouth—but I used to be prettier than she is!"
Violette blushed, and was sorely embarrassed when she saw that the mistress and the maid were staring at her. As they said nothing more to her, she curtsied again and murmured:
"Has madame any further orders for me?"
"No, mademoiselle.—By the way, I will ask you, if you see this gentleman again, to thank him a thousand times for me, and to tell him, that, in spite of the mystery in which he envelops himself, I recognize him none the less, and I should be very glad to see him, in order to express in person all my gratitude; can you remember all that, my girl?"
"Oh! yes, madame, I have a good memory; I shan't forget anything, I promise you."
"Very good.—It is certain that there is a something about you—how old are you?"
"Nineteen, madame."
"Nineteen!"
Madame de Grangeville seemed struck by that answer; she reflected a moment, then answered:
"What! you are nineteen years old? You don't look it. Have you many brothers and sisters?"
"No, madame, I am alone."
"Aha! and your mother sells flowers as you do, no doubt?"
"My mother—I don't know her, madame; I am a—an abandoned child."
Madame de Grangeville could not control an impulsive movement; but she soon recovered herself, saying:
"How foolish I am! There are very many things in the world which resemble one another in some details. The most amusing part of this is that this girl looks so much like me; it is a mere freak of chance, for the other, if she's alive, must be in the depths of Picardie."
Then, turning toward the girl, the baroness continued, aloud:
"Well, my child, you may go.—But, perhaps you have not been paid, and you are waiting——"
"Yes, I am paid, madame; I was not waiting for anything but to be dismissed."
"She talks very well.—Go then, and do not forget what I told you to say to Monsieur de Merval."
"Monsieur de——?"
"How thoughtless I am, to mention his name! I meant to say, the gentleman who sent you to bring this bouquet to me."
"I shall not forget anything, madame."
Violette took her leave, deeply moved by the interview she had had with the lady, and wondering what there was in that commonplace conversation to cause her such emotion. She went at once to the count's and found him impatiently awaiting her; he made her repeat the conversation she had had with Madame de Grangeville, to the slightest detail.
"What do you think of that lady?" enquired Monsieur de Brévanne, when Violette had told him everything.
"I think that she is very good-looking, that is to say, she must have been good-looking; her features are worn now—she is not young, is she, monsieur?"
"No, certainly not. Was she pleasant and affable with you?"
"Yes, monsieur, she was very polite; but her manner was rather haughty."
"Very well, my child, go back to your flowers; next week you shall carry another bouquet to Madame de Grangeville."
"Very good, monsieur; and must I let her think that that one too comes from a Monsieur de Merval? For she is fully persuaded that it was a gentleman of that name who sent me to her."
"You must be very careful not to undeceive her."
On leaving the count, the young flower girl met Georget, whom she told what she had been doing, and who walked with her to her booth, saying:
"We have come back to Paris. Monsieur Malberg gives me writing and figuring to do and sends me on errands; but that won't prevent me from seeing you every day. I am so happy! every morning I will come to the boulevard to bid you good-morning, and in the evening I will come to help you carry home your flowers."
"I agree to that, Georget, but only on condition that it doesn't interfere with your work. I haven't told you, but I believe that Monsieur Malberg will help me find my family."
"Your family! what need of them have you now? Don't I fill the place of your family?"
"But, Georget, a person is always very glad to have a family, and if I still had a mother——"
"Your mother! as she abandoned you, it must have been that she didn't love you."
"Who can tell? Perhaps she was compelled to."
"And if your family should prove to be rich, they wouldn't be willing that I should be your husband perhaps. Look you, Violette, I prefer that you shouldn't find anybody."
"What a child you are, Georget!"
"There is someone that I would like to find, myself! But I would treat him as he deserves to be treated!"
"Whom are you talking about, Georget?"
"That Monsieur Jéricourt, who laid that trap for you, and then went about saying——"