"Haven't you made any acquaintances on this street?"

"No, monsieur; I don't want to make any."

"Aren't you bored, being all alone?"

"How can I be bored? I always have something to think about?"

"What do you do in the evening?"

"I read, and I am learning to write."

"Do you know how to write?"

"A little; before long I shall know how to write well, I hope. There's an old gentleman who gives me lessons sometimes."

"What need is there of your knowing any more than you do?"

"That's true, monsieur; if you don't want me to, I won't learn any more."

"Oh! I don't say that. Study, Nicette, since you enjoy it; you weren't born to sell flowers. But take my advice, and don't try to rise above the condition in which fate has placed you; it rarely succeeds."

"Oh! I'm not trying to do anything of the sort, monsieur; I'd just like to be not quite so stupid as I used to be."

"My dear girl, you may be ignorant, but you can't be stupid; you will always be charming; your natural wit does not need the resources of education to attract esteem, any more than your charms need the help of art to win admiration. Ah! Nicette, be always as you are now, as I first saw you! Do not change!"

She listened to me in silence; her sweet glance approved all that I said; we understood each other so well! But impatient customers were already beginning to look at her flowers; I felt that I must go. I said adieu, but I continued to stand in front of her. It was impossible to take a kiss, I realized that; she divined my thought, and we both sighed. To part so coldly! Ah! if we had been in my room! I was certain that I had but to say the word, and she would come; but I refrained from saying it, for she would have been lost. I pressed her hand and fled. I felt that I must fly from her, in order not to adore her.

XXI

CONFIDENCE

As a fortunate change in our destiny reconciles us to life, as a lucky throw of the dice brings us nearer to wealth, as a n.o.ble deed reconciles the misanthrope to mankind, as the acceptance of a play calms the wrath of an author, as a bottle of old wine makes the drunkard forget his pledges, as a sunbeam causes the traces of the storm to disappear, so the sight of a pretty woman makes us forget our virtuous resolutions, her love banishes from our hearts the memory of our last mistress's perfidy, and her virtues reconcile us to women in general, whom we take a vow to shun whenever we are deceived, and whom we do not shun, because it is not in nature to do it.

Thus the sight of Nicette always led me to esteem her more highly. I reproached myself for sometimes speaking ill of a s.e.x which contains models of sensibility, refinement, and sweetness, and which often redeems a weakness by a hundred estimable qualities. The result in this instance was that I thought I had done wrong to suspect Caroline, that nothing in her conduct ought to arouse my jealousy, and that, by reproaches and unfounded distrust, we often embitter a heart that we might have made ours forever.

I even went so far as to say to myself that it was my own fault that I had been deceived so often, and that I had invariably done the opposite of what one should do to retain a woman's love. We go very far with the syllogisms that we propound to ourselves. At the rate at which I was going on, I might have ended by satisfying myself that the infidelities of our female friends are simply the consequences of our behavior toward them, when I happened to pa.s.s Tortoni's just as Raymond went in with a man of some sixty years, with an awkward figure, and an inane, disagreeable face, who was obliged to use a cane to support his left leg, but whose costume denoted wealth and his manner a remnant of dandyism.

I was not at all anxious to sit down with them, despite Raymond's entreaties; he exclaimed at once that we must breakfast together. I pretended not to hear him, and took my place in a corner, at some distance from Raymond, of whom I had fought shy since our trip to Montmorency. But, as I drank my chocolate, I noticed that the conversation of the two gentlemen was very animated. I was convinced that the gouty old fellow was telling his friend about some amorous affairs, which he took pains to vaunt in the highest terms so that he might still pose as a gay young rake. Would he not do better, I thought, to attend to his infirmities? He rose at last, and I supposed that Raymond would go with him; but, no: he remained behind and joined me at my table.

"Good-morning, my friend! Well! have we recovered from the fatigue of travel?"

"You are the one to answer that question. Thank heaven! I didn't sleep on a pile of hams, with my leg caught like a plump lark!"

"Ah! the sly hussy! I admit that I looked a good deal like a sparrow; but I don't feel it now, I rubbed myself so hard yesterday! I used up two bottles of cosmetic for the skin, and three phials of Ceylon oil; so that I have recovered all my elasticity this morning. Tell me, do you know that man who was with me just now?"

"No."

"That was Monsieur de Grandmaison."

"I never heard of him."

"He's a very rich man, enormously rich!"

"He's enormously ugly!"

"He's an ex-financier, contractor, promoter."

"Yes, I understand."

"He gives delightful b.a.l.l.s."

"Not for himself, surely."

"Oh! he's still quite a rake."

"He doesn't look it."

"Because he drags his leg a little; but that doesn't prevent his making conquests."

"From buying them, you mean."

"That's what I mean; but it all comes to the same thing. Between ourselves, I admit that he didn't invent gunpowder, and that his education is confined to the rules of subtraction and multiplication, which he understands perfectly. But still, for all that, he has the prettiest women in Paris."

"That doesn't speak well for the prettiest women in Paris."

"He was telling me just now of a new intrigue he is on the point of consummating. Ha! ha! it's most amusing! She's a ravishing young beauty, and he is going to steal her from a young man."

"Some kept woman."

"It seems that the little one is worth her price, and that she hangs back; and then, too, the young man, who is jealous no doubt, keeps her very close. For all that, they've seen each other--at the window, in the first place; then, letters and propositions. Grandmaison, who knows how to manage such affairs, talked about cashmere shawls and diamonds! The little one's a coquette, and it seems that her young lover keeps her on a bourgeois footing. The poor fellow will soon be plundered."

I had a feeling of uneasiness, which as yet I dared not a.n.a.lyze; Raymond's story, to which I had listened mechanically, interested me deeply at last; the words _window_, _cashmere shawls_, and _diamonds_ aroused vague suspicions in my mind, which I blushed to harbor when I recalled Monsieur de Grandmaison's age and appearance. My self-esteem refused to admit that such a rival could be preferred to me; but a secret voice told me that self-esteem often deceives us. I determined to ascertain the truth, and I proceeded to ask Raymond certain questions, which, I was sure, would prove to me that I was wrong to torment myself.

"Where does this Monsieur de Grandmaison live?"

"Rue Caumartin, in a magnificent house that he owns; it's just at the end of the street, near the boulevard."

I felt a shudder run through my whole body, my gorge rose, a weight descended on my breast--all in a second, and as the result of a mere word. I continued my questions, however, affecting the utmost tranquillity.

"And this young beauty?"

"Lives just opposite him, in a small house where there's no concierge, on the second floor front. Grandmaison saw her first at her window; it's a broad street, but he has an excellent gla.s.s that he had made to watch the ballets at the Opera. It's a little telescope; it brings everything right under your eyes, and you can imagine how pleasant it is, while a dancer is making a pirouette, to fasten it on----"

"Well, go on: this young woman?"