"Gad! what a fellow that Raymond is! An old woman couldn't have done better."

"Well, I've told my story; now it's your turn."

"What do you want me to tell you? You saw a girl leave my rooms, eh?"

"Yes, she was very pretty; a face that takes your eye; rather a large mouth. But that costume! What, Monsieur Eugene! you, a dandy of dandies, caught by a round cap! Why, I no longer recognize you!"

"For what I propose to do, mademoiselle, the question of cap or hat is of no consequence at all."

"Of course, you don't propose to do anything, because you have done enough."

"You are mistaken, Agathe. That is an honest, virtuous girl; she is nothing to me, and never will be."

"What's that? Oh! it's as plain as a pikestaff: she came here to sleep, so as not to be afraid of the dark; that's all!--

"'Go and see if they're coming, Jean!'"

"I realize that appearances are against us; and yet nothing can be more true than what I tell you. The explanation as to the couch being in the study is that she slept in my bedroom, and I slept here."

"For ten minutes, very likely; but after that you joined her."

"No; I swear that I did not."

"You'd never have been donkey enough to stay here."

"I understand that, in your eyes, virtue and innocence are the merest folly."

"Ah! you are not polite, monsieur. But as I have never known you to be either virtuous or innocent, I may be permitted to express surprise at your virtuous qualities, which are entirely unfamiliar to me."

"I am not trying to make myself out any better than I am, and I confess to you frankly that I attempted to triumph over this girl; but her resistance was so natural, her tears so genuine, her entreaties so touching, that I was really deeply moved and almost repented of what I had tried to do."

"That is magnificent; and I presume that the virtuous and innocent orange girl came to your rooms in order that her resistance might be the better appreciated.--Ha! ha! what a fairy tale!"

"You may believe what you choose. It is none the less true that Nicette is virtuous and that she isn't an orange girl."

"Oh! pardon me, monsieur, if I have unintentionally slighted your charmer. Mademoiselle Nicette probably sells herring at the Marche des Innocents?"

"No, mademoiselle; she sells nothing but flowers."

"Flowers! Why, that is superb! Ah! so she's a flower girl! I am no longer surprised at your consideration for her."

"She certainly deserves more consideration than many women who wear fashionable bonnets."

"Or who make them, eh?"

"The argument is even stronger as to them."

"Monsieur is vexed because I venture to doubt the virtuous morals of a girl who comes, very innocently no doubt, to sleep with a young man, who has himself turned Cato in twenty-four hours! Look you, Eugene, I don't care what you say, it isn't possible."

"I shall say nothing more, because I attach no value to your opinion."

"Again! No matter, let's make peace; and I will believe, if it will give you pleasure, that your friend was the Maid of Orleans."

Mademoiselle Agathe came to me and kissed me; she was almost on my knees; she embraced me very lovingly, and I believe that it rested with me to betray my successor, but I had no desire so to do. My mind was still full of Nicette; I was angry with the woman who refused to believe in her innocence and virtue, and who made sport of my heroic behavior.

When one has had to make such a mighty effort to do a good deed, the person who seeks to rob us of our satisfaction therein is always unwelcome. So that I received Mademoiselle Agathe's caress very coolly.

At that, the young milliner took offence in her turn, although she loved me no more than I loved her; probably she had never loved me; but in many people self-esteem takes the place of love and, of itself alone, gives birth to jealousy. Agathe put on her shawl, which she had laid aside when she came in, tied her bonnet strings, and gave me a courtesy accompanied by a smile in which she tried to cast an expression of irony, but in which anger and vexation were clearly marked.

"Adieu, monsieur! I understand that the events of last night must have fatigued you; you need rest, and a little solitude; I leave you to dream at your leisure of the brilliant conquest which will furnish you with constant enjoyment from this time on! I beg you to be good enough to give my address to Mademoiselle _de_ Nicette; I shall be delighted to have her custom, in case she should think of changing her style of dress; unless, however, you intend to take her under your protection in that modest gown. I can understand that, to a sensitive and loving heart, the round cap of virtue is preferable to the toque of frivolity."

And Mademoiselle Agathe took her leave, humming:

"'When one knows how to love and please, What else need one desire?'"

VII

A WORD ABOUT MYSELF

Agathe had been gone for a long while, and I was still in my study, thinking of the past evening and night. Somebody opened the door of my apartment: it was my concierge, Madame Dupont, coming to put my room to rights, as usual. As she came in, the good soul did not fail to glance at everything within range; and a woman will see more at a glance than we men can see in fifteen minutes.

Fool that I was! I had forgotten to put the couch where it belonged!

that wretched Agathe was responsible for that! But when all was said and done, I was master in my own apartment; I could arrange my furniture as I pleased. I was not in the habit of talking with my concierge, and Madame Dupont knew it. Nevertheless, I noticed that she hovered about me and tried to enter into conversation.

"It looks as though 'twill be a lovely day; that's very lucky, seeing it's Sunday; there are so many people who don't have any other day for an outing!"

"Yes," I a.s.sented, "it is very fortunate."

"Ah! monsieur has moved his furniture, I see. Does monsieur mean to leave this couch in his study?"

"No; you may put it back where it belongs; I'll help you."

"I see; monsieur has been trying an experiment?"

"Yes, it was an experiment."

"That's like my daughter, who's forever moving her son's cradle from one place to another. Last night, she put it beside the bed; but my son-in-law wouldn't have it there, because the child's nearly four years old, and it is embarra.s.sing for a husband and wife, when---- Why, your bed's hardly tumbled at all, monsieur!"

"I suppose that I didn't move much."

"Monsieur has already breakfasted, apparently? Monsieur was hungry earlier to-day than usual."

I made no reply, but dressed to go out, being impatient to leave the house. Madame Dupont stooped and picked up something, which she brought to me with a mischievous air.

"Here's a little cross _a la_ Jeannette, monsieur, that I just found beside your bed."