"Oh, no, don't be afraid—I am very good-natured; and then you are so kind, that I am sure you have not the heart to say anything that would cause me pain."
"Certainly not; but now, frankly, have you never had—a lover?"
"Lovers! Now, is that very likely? Have I time for that?"
"But what has time to do with it?"
"Everything. First of all, I should be as jealous as a tiger, and I should be constantly worrying myself with one idea or the other. Then, again, do I earn money enough to enable me to lose two or three hours a day in grief and tears?—and if he deceived me, what weeping, what sorrow! All that would throw me pretty well behindhand, you may guess."
"But all lovers are not unfaithful, and do not cause their mistresses to weep."
"That would be still worse. If he were very good and loving, could I live a moment away from him? And then, as most likely he would be obliged to stay all day, either at the desk, manufactory, or shop, I should be like a poor restless spirit during his absence. I should invent a thousand chimeras; imagine that others loved him, and that he was with them. Heaven only knows what I might be tempted to do in my despair! Certain it is, that my work would be neglected, and what would become of me then? I can manage, quiet as I am, to live by working twelve or fourteen hours a day; but, were I to lose two or three days in the week by tormenting myself, how could I make up the lost time? Impossible! I must then take a situation. Oh, no, I love my liberty too well."
"Your liberty?"
"Yes; I could enter as forewoman to the person who now employs me; I should receive four hundred francs a year, with board and lodging."
"And you will not accept that?"