"Oh, madame," said Coucou ardently, "it will not offend you, if I tell you that I find you exceedingly—and, speaking plainly, consider you quite lovely! Call me impertinent, madame: but believe my assurance that I speak the real truth. I have seen ladies in all parts of the world, blondes and brunettes, black and white, but I never met one who understood how to win my heart till I this day met you!"
Madame Caraman was, indeed, Clary's governess, but she was, first of all, a wife, and Coucou's words were repugnant to her.
"Monsieur Zouave," she replied, "I am forty-two years old" (unwittingly she skipped a few), "and you may call yourself lucky that I do not mind a joke—"
"A joke? But I can take an oath—"
"Do not swear," interrupted the lady, in a menacing manner, "but let me speak. First, you ought to know that I have always been an honest wife, and only loved my husband, who is now in heaven. Secondly, I am employed by a greatly esteemed and amiable young girl, and as you have without the slightest pretext entered here, you have forfeited the respect which you owe the owner of this villa. Thus you know now what you ought to know, and mark it down for the future, Monsieur Zouave."
Coucou felt as if it were best for him to sink into the ground; red like a peony he began to stutter:
"Pardon me, I intended nothing wrong!"
The widow of the gendarme officer had compassion on his embarrassment.
"Well, do not take it to heart too much," she said, kindly. "I do not bite anybody! You are, after all, a soldier, and if you do your duty, you cannot always touch everything with kid gloves. My dear departed husband often told me so, and therefore console yourself and listen to me. I am ready to pardon you, but only under one condition."
"Oh, under all conditions, even ever so difficult," ejaculated Coucou, lively. "Speak, please; what am I to do?"