"But, mon enfant——"
"Oh! it will do me good to hear you," she pleaded.
It does not require much urging to induce a young man in love to talk about his passion to a sympathetic listener. And there never was time or place more propitious or auditor more tender of spirit.
He began at the beginning, when he first met Mlle. Remy with Lerouge, every detail of which was fixed upon his memory. He told how he sought her in Rue Monge, how Lerouge interposed, how he quarrelled with his friend, how the latter changed his address and kept the girl under close confinement to prevent his seeing her,—Jean was certain of this.
Monsieur Lerouge had a right to protect his sister, even against his late friend; and even if she had been his mistress, Jean now argued, Lerouge was justified; but love is something that in the Latin rises superior to obstacles, beats down all opposition, is obstinate, unreasonable, and uncharitable.
When Mlle. Fouchette, going straight to the core of the matter, asked him what real ground he had for presuming that his attentions, if permitted, would have been agreeable to Mlle. Remy, Jean confessed reluctantly that there were no reasons for any conclusion on this point.
"But," he wound up, impetuously, "when she knows—if she knew—how I worship her she must respond to my affection. A love such as mine could not be forever resisted, mademoiselle. I feel it! I know it!"
"Yes, Monsieur Jean, it would be impossible to—to not——"
"You think so, too, chère amie?"
"Very sure," said Mlle. Fouchette.