This speech sank deep into the heart of the young man.
"Ah! my brave Municipal," said the flower-girl, "purchase a bouquet for the pretty citizen. She is dressed in white; look at these superb crimson carnations; white and purple look well together. She will place the bouquet upon her heart, and as her heart is near to your blue coat, you will have there the national colors."
The flower-girl was young and pretty; her compliment was well-turned and well-chosen, for had it been made expressly for that occasion, it could not have better applied to the circumstances. Besides, the flowers were almost symbolical; they were similar to those now dead.
"I will purchase some," said Maurice, "since they are carnations; all other flowers I detest."
"Ah, Maurice," said Geneviève, "it is useless, we have so many of them in the garden."
But although her lips uttered the refusal, her eyes expressed a longing desire to possess them.
Maurice selected the most beautiful of the bouquets. It was the one the pretty flower-girl had presented to him.
It consisted of twenty deep red carnations, emitting an odor at once sweet and pungent; in the centre, towering above the rest, rose a magnificent carnation.
"Here," said Maurice to the seller, throwing on her basket a bill of five francs, "that is for you."