"She is in bed with a bad headache. She gave me a letter for you; here it is."
"I have been obliged to go to bed on account of a severe headache to which I am subject. I feel better already, and I shall be able to wait on you to-morrow. I tell you as much, because I do not wish you to think that my illness is feigned. I am sure that your repentance for having humiliated me is sincere, and I hope in your turn that you will forgive me or pity me, if my way of thinking prevents me from conforming to yours."
"Annette dear, go and ask your sister if she would like us to sup in her room."
She soon came back telling me that Veronique was obliged, but begged me to let her sleep.
I supped with Annette, and was glad to see that, though she only drank water, her appetite was better than mine. My passion for her sister prevented me thinking of her, but I felt that Annette would otherwise have taken my fancy. When we were taking dessert, I conceived the idea of making her drunk to get her talk of her sister, so I gave her a glass of Lunel muscat.
"I only drink water, sir."
"Don't you like wine?"
"Yes, but as I am not used to it I am afraid of its getting into my head."
"Then you can go to bed; you will sleep all the better."
She drank the first glass, which she enjoyed immensely, then a second, and then a third. Her little brains were in some confusion when she had finished the third glass. I made her talk about her sister, and in perfect faith she told me all the good imaginable.