But Claude, more embarrassed still, resorted to exaggerated politeness. He had thrown aside his palette and was turning the studio upside down in order to clear a chair.
‘Pray be seated, mademoiselle. This is really a surprise. You are too kind.’
Once seated, Christine recovered her equanimity. He looked so droll with his wild sweeping gestures, and she felt so conscious of his shyness that she began to smile, and bravely held out the bunch of roses.
‘Look here; I wished to show you that I am not ungrateful.’
At first he said nothing, but stood staring at her, thunderstruck. When he saw, though, that she was not making fun of him, he shook both her hands, with almost sufficient energy to dislocate them. Then he at once put the flowers in his water-jug, repeating:
‘Ah! now you are a good fellow, you really are. This is the first time I pay that compliment to a woman, honour bright.’
He came back to her, and, looking straight into her eyes, he asked:
‘Then you have not altogether forgotten me?’
‘You see that I have not,’ she replied, laughing.
‘Why, then, did you wait two months before coming to see me?’