"Oh, my dear friend, pardon me; for truly reason has forsaken me."
"Then I offer you mine," said Lorin, laughing at his own execrable pun.
The most surprising thing was that Maurice laughed also. His present happiness had made him so cheerful.
This was not all. "Wait," said he, cutting some orange blossom from a tree in full bloom; "present this from me to the worthy Widow Mausole."
"A la bonne heure!" said Lorin; "in consideration of your gallantry, I pardon you. Then it appears to me you are absolutely in love, and I always feel profound respect for the unfortunate."
"Yes, I am in love," said Maurice, and his heart dilated with joy. "I am in love; and now, since she loves me, I may declare it; for since she has recalled me, must she not love me, Lorin?"
"Doubtless," complacently replied the adorer of the Goddess Reason; "but take care, Maurice, for the fashion in which you take this makes me fear for you."
"Often love is but a freak
Of the tyrant men call Cupid.
'Tis he bewitches when you speak
With any woman, howe'er stupid.
Come, then, with me,—love only Reason;
And so escape Dan Cupid's treason."
"Bravo, bravo!" cried Maurice, clapping his hands; then taking to his heels, he descended the steps four at a time, and directed his steps toward the well-known old Rue Saint Jacques.