He blushed for his brusqueness. “Not at all! I am trying to think of some way in which I can help you with your studies, with your preparatory reading....”
Zozé frowned with attention. Suddenly, a joyful flicker swiftly passed over her caressing eyes.
“I ... I have an idea,” she insinuated; “an idea which has just occurred to me.”
“What is it?”
“But it is so indiscreet!”
“Never mind!... Tell me!” M. Raindal urged, feeling that his indulgence was once more wearing out.
“No, I shall never dare!”
She still hesitated, her eyes plunged into his. She decided to speak at last, when the carriage stopped at the door of his house.
There it was: she wished, if it were not too much trouble, that the master would agree to come to the rue de Prony, once a week, on Thursdays, or at least twice a month, not to give her lessons—no, Zozé would never bring herself to risk so impudent a request—but to talk to her, simply, as a friend, to guide her in her studies, to indicate to her what she should read....
“You understand.... I know that it is very indiscreet.... Yet, if you would ... it would make me so happy!... Wo you, dear master?”