"I am afraid it's too large, though," continued Madame de Marsan. "Have
you any others, my girl?--Well! why don't you answer?"
Nicette did not hear her; she had her eyes fixed on me, and doubtless
her expression was very eloquent, for Madame de Marsan, greatly
surprised, scrutinized her closely; her pretty face, her confusion, my
emotion, my embarrassed manner, aroused in Madame de Marsan's mind
suspicions, which undoubtedly went beyond the truth. Women divine very
swiftly, and their imagination travels fast. Madame de Marsan no longer
loved me, but she had the curiosity which no woman ever loses on that
subject, and, in pure deviltry, she pretended to be very fond of me.
She entered the shop, leaning nonchalantly on my arm; she bestowed an
amorous glance on me and addressed me in the familiar second person,
which she had not done twenty times at the very outset of our liaison.
"What do you think of these trees, my dear fellow? tell me which you
like, my dear Dorsan; I want to choose the one you like best."
Vexation and anger were suffocating me; I was hardly able to stammer a
few disjointed words. I glanced at Nicette; I saw her turn pale and
stagger; her eyes filled with tears; they seemed to say to me:
"She loves you! do you love her?"
Madame de Marsan saw it all; she smiled maliciously and watched Nicette
closely.
"What's the matter with you, child?" she asked, in a contemptuous tone;
"you seem very much excited."
"Nothing, madame, nothing's the matter," the poor girl replied, in a
trembling voice, looking at Madame de Marsan and at me in turn.
"What's the price of this orange tree?"
"It's--it's--whatever you choose to give, madame; I don't care."
"What's that? you don't care? That's a strange answer!--What do you
think, my dear Dorsan? Come, answer; I don't know what's the matter with
you to-night, really!"
"When you are ready, madame, we will go."
"Ah! I see, monsieur; you have reasons for not wanting to stay in this
place with me; my presence embarrasses you--and seems to grieve
mademoiselle! Ha! ha! this is too good! to grieve this poor child!--that
would be cruel beyond words! Come, monsieur, when you choose. But, I beg
you, don't leave her in despair.--Adieu, my girl!"
She left the shop at last, and I followed her after glancing at Nicette.
But she was crying and did not look at me.
When we were in the street, Madame de Marsan laughed as if she would
die, and joked me about my amours and about the innocent flower girl. I
made no reply, although I might have made some very mortifying remarks;
we must be indulgent to the woman who has been weak for our sake. I left
her at her door. I was in great haste to see Nicette again; I was
determined now to tell her all my thoughts, all my sentiments; I
proposed to conceal from her no longer the genuine passion which she had
inspired, and which I had fought against to no purpose. She shared it; I
could not doubt that. We would be happy together; yes, I would abandon
myself thenceforth to the dictates of my heart, which told me that I
must possess Nicette. The friendship between us was simply a pretext to
conceal our love; we could not misunderstand each other! Why those
fruitless efforts to overcome the sentiment that drew us toward each
other? Why should cold prudence deprive us of happiness? Is love a
crime, pray? and can that which makes us so happy make us guilty?
I ran, I flew--at last I stood before her shop; it was closed, and I
could see no light within. I knocked: there was no reply. Was she
asleep? No, no; I was sure that she would not be able to sleep. I
knocked again--no reply! Where could she be? I passed an hour in front
of her shop. I knocked again, but to no purpose. I was convinced that
she was inside, but that she was determined not to admit me, that she
was weeping and did not wish me to see her tears. Perhaps she feared
that I would reproach her for her conduct before Madame de Marsan. Dear
Nicette! Far be it from me to reprove your love.
"I will see her to-morrow," I thought; "I will console her, and I shall
easily triumph over the resolutions of the night! Since it must be, I
will wait till to-morrow."