“First of all, sit down,” I said, trying to assume a very serious expression.
“Where shall I sit, monsieur?”
“Why, here—on a chair by my side.”
“Here I am, monsieur.”
“Give me your hand.”
“Oh! both of ’em, if you want.”
I took both her hands and squeezed them hard; I felt a pleasant warmth run through my whole being; I was so happy that I dared not stir for fear of breaking the charm that intoxicated my senses; my eyes were fixed on Clairette’s, and their tender languor aroused my first love. Instead of giving the girl a lesson, I felt that she could teach me a thousand things. I trembled, I blushed and turned pale in quick succession; never was a sorcerer so timid; but I had forgotten my rôle, and Clairette had unconsciously assumed it.
“It’s mighty funny,” said the girl when I had been squeezing her hand for five minutes, “it don’t make me a bit sleepy.”
“Wait, wait. It doesn’t work at once. Now you must shut your eyes.”
“Bless me! shut ’em tight?”