Thanks to my neighbor, I had not availed myself of Madame de Marsan's
courteous invitation; but I proposed to go soon to make my excuses to
her, and I would be careful to go alone; it seemed to me that that would
be preferable in every way.
Doubtless Caroline was awaiting me impatiently; I must make haste to put
an end to her anxiety. I had promised to return during the night; but
unforeseen events---- It was after two o'clock in the afternoon, when I
hastened to Rue Caumartin.
This time she was not at her window; but could I expect her to give
herself a twist in the neck in order to see me a moment sooner? No! I
was too sensible to demand that. I went upstairs and rang--no answer.
She had gone out! She had probably got tired of waiting for me, and had
gone out for a walk, perhaps to make some new purchases. There was
nothing for me to do but to go away and return; but I concluded to ring
once more. I did so, to no purpose. I went downstairs in an ill humor,
because I was annoyed; nothing annoys one more than a postponed
pleasure. I had no right to be angry because she had gone out; still, it
seemed to me that she might have waited for me. I walked away,
scratching my ear; indeed, I believe that I scratched my head. Was it a
presentiment? Alas! I had never yet found a faithful woman! But I had
vowed not to distress myself beforehand; that never does any good. I
determined to do my best not to distress myself afterward either! I
should be more certain of being happy.
As I turned into the boulevard, I saw her. What a costume for a morning
walk! She caught sight of me and seemed embarrassed. She came toward me,
however. We both smiled, but I believe that neither of us felt any
inclination that way; it is so easy to distinguish a forced smile!
"Ah! here you are at last!"
"Yes: does that surprise you?"
"I didn't expect you so late."
"I quite believe that you didn't expect me."
"Have you just come from my rooms?"
"Yes; and you?"
"I have been for a little walk."
"What a dress!"
"I don't see anything uncommon about it."
"Not in comparison with the one you wore on Rue des Rosiers?"
"You always have something unkind to say!"
"I don't see what there is unkind in what I said."
"I suppose you'd have me go out in cap and apron!"
"They wouldn't be unbecoming to you."
"But I have no desire to wear them."
"Oh! I believe you!"
"To hear you, anyone would think that before you knew me I was a stupid,
awkward country girl!"
"I am well aware that you were not an innocent maid."
"Are we going to stay here on the boulevard all night? I am going home;
are you coming with me?"
I hesitated; but I went with her. When we were in her apartment,
Caroline joked me about my severe air. In truth, what right had I to
reproach her? I was far from amiable sometimes, I knew; and a man who
scolds and grumbles is seldom loved. True; but a man who is loved never
appears to scold; he is always right. I kissed Caroline, and peace was
made. We dined together, and I took her to the theatre; but although I
did my best to amuse her, she did not seem to enjoy herself very much.
She appeared to be distraught, preoccupied; I was almost tempted to find
fault with her, but I restrained myself, for she would have said that I
was always complaining! But if she had been as she used to be, I should
have had no cause to complain. Ah! I say again, when a man ceases to be
lovable, it means that he is no longer loved.
It was near midnight when I went home. A secret hope led me to grasp the
knob hurriedly. No bouquet! and yet it was the day! Could Nicette have
forgotten me? That would have caused me a pang, a very sharp pang. But
what childish nonsense! How could I expect her to bring me flowers all
the year round, when I did not condescend to go to her to bid her
good-morning? In the depths of my heart, however, I was not indifferent
to those tokens of her remembrance of me; I was touched by them, much
more, perhaps, than I supposed; I realized it from the grief that I felt
at her neglect; I had become so accustomed to that homage! It seemed to
me that it was my due. Why should I conceal it? I flattered myself that
Nicette loved me; I believed her to be capable of constancy; and while I
did not choose to abuse her love, I was not at all sorry to inspire it.
I determined to investigate her conduct; I determined to see her, to
speak to her. I would rise the next morning at six and prowl about the
little flower girl's booth. What strange mortals we are! For a whole
month I had neglected Nicette; and because I thought that she had
forgotten me, I was consumed by a longing to see her again, to know what
she was doing and what her sentiments were! Was it love, self-esteem,
jealousy, vanity, or simple curiosity on my part? Call it what you
please, it was as I have described it.
As for Caroline, I determined not to torment myself any more about her;
she was either faithful or unfaithful; in the first case, I was wrong to
suspect her; in the second, she deserved neither my love nor my regrets.
That is a very fine dilemma which I propose to all jealous lovers,
present and future. But they will reply that when a man is able to talk
sensibly he is not in love. To that I have nothing to say, for I am
inclined to think that it is true.
I was up at six o'clock. At that hour I was quite certain not to meet
any acquaintances before whom I should blush to be seen speaking to a
street peddler. I soon reached the place where Nicette was accustomed to
display her wares. But I saw nothing; could it be that I was too early?
had she moved to another quarter? I accosted a messenger whose stand was
a few feet away; those fellows know everything.
"My friend, wasn't there a flower girl who used to stand in front of
this house?"
"Yes, monsieur; she was here up to a week ago."
"And she no longer stands here?"
"Oh! she isn't very far off. Thirty yards or so farther along you'll see
a little shop; that's where she is now."
"A shop, do you say?"
"Yes, monsieur; it isn't very big, but it's well arranged, all the
same."
I turned to walk away--but perhaps that man could tell me something.
Nicette had a shop; what was I to conclude from that? I trembled to
think! Had some other man been more fortunate than I? had she listened
to some other man? and did another possess that treasure which I might
have obtained and which it had cost me such a struggle to respect?
I returned to the messenger, put some money in his hand, and began to
question him.
"Do you know this flower girl?"
"Yes, monsieur, I know her--not very well, though, for she's a bit
proud; she don't talk much to anybody but her customers; and even then
you mustn't say too much, or she'll send you about your business. Oh!
she's a good girl, I tell you! She's virtuous, and the virtuous ones are
always noticed."
The man's praise of Nicette caused me the keenest delight; I should have
been sorry to learn that I could no longer esteem her.
"You say that she's virtuous, eh?"
"Yes, monsieur; we messengers know what's what; and then, I see
everything that goes on. It isn't that Mamzelle Nicette lacks lovers.
Oh! pardi! the whole quarter, if she chose! she's so pretty! and she has
a fine lot of customers. It's hardly six weeks since she set up on this
street; but the young men soon spied her, and there's a whole mob of
dandies that come to buy flowers, just to make love to her, you
understand. But Mamzelle Nicette don't sell anything but bouquets. I
must do her that justice. She won't listen to the swells any more than
the footmen; and when some sly fellow orders flowers of her, to have her
bring them to him, he gets caught, for she just sends them by the
wigmaker's little girl."
I walked away, overjoyed by all that I had learned; in two bounds I was
in front of Nicette's shop. She was already arranging her jars of
flowers on boards placed outside, in the street. When she saw me, she
gave a cry of surprise, dropped the carnations she had in her hand,
blushed scarlet, and could hardly stammer:
"What! is it you, monsieur?"
I smiled at her astonishment and entered her shop, where I seated myself
on a stool and looked at her.--How pretty she was! Joy made her even
prettier, and glistened in the look with which she met mine.
"Is it really you, Monsieur Dorsan, you, in my shop? Ah! I didn't expect
such a pleasure! I had stopped hoping for it!"
"Why so, Nicette?"
"Why--it is so long!"
"That is true. But I have things to do which make it impossible----"
"Oh! I believe you, monsieur. Besides, aren't you your own master? and
how can you give a thought to a girl who sells flowers?"
There was something so touching in the way she spoke, that I was deeply
moved. How could I ever have forgotten such charm, such innocence, such
susceptibility? I could not understand it.
She was still standing in front of me; I took her hand, and I believe
that I was actually on the point of drawing her down on my knees. She
made no resistance; she glanced anxiously about, but had not the
strength to go away from me. What imprudence! what was I doing? We were
in full sight of passers-by, and someone might come in at any minute.
She had nothing but her reputation, and I was about to besmirch it!
Poor child! she would sacrifice it to me, in her dread of displeasing
me.
I dropped her hand and moved away from her, looking toward the street.
She understood me, and thanked me with her eyes.
"So you were able to hire a shop, Nicette?"
"Yes, monsieur; I've made a lot since I've been in this quarter. I am
economical and spend very little; I am sure that I can get along all
right. I don't think I did wrong, did I?"
"No; I know that you are behaving as well as possible."
"You know it?"
"I have never doubted it. Your bouquets have shown me, moreover, what a
grateful heart you have."
"Oh! can I ever forget what you did for me?"
"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.