When we talked together, she always spoke of her daughter; she went to see her almost every day, and I often saw in her belt a flower which she constantly covered with kisses. I guessed where she had plucked that flower.
Ballangier came to see me, and did not find me; but he found Mignonne, and Monsieur Pomponne told me that he sat in front of her more than an hour, without opening his mouth.
"How do you know that?" I demanded, pulling Pomponne's ear; "did you listen at the door?"
"I couldn't listen, monsieur, as they didn't say anything."
Oh! these servants! Is there no way of finding one who is neither inquisitive, talkative, a liar, nor a gossip? When they are not all of these together, they are phœnixes!
"You received a visitor for me, did you?" I asked Mignonne.
"Yes, monsieur, that young mechanic; for he seems to be a mechanic."
"Yes; he's a cabinetmaker. What did he say to you?"
"He talks very little. But he told me enough for me to understand that you are his benefactor, too; that he owes you a great deal."
"No, I am in no sense his benefactor. What I did for him was a duty. But he behaved very badly at one time; for a long while he led a life of idleness and dissipation. He was deaf to my entreaties and remonstrances. In those days, his presence was as distasteful to me as it is agreeable now. He has turned over a new leaf, become a respectable man once more, and a good workman; I have given him all my friendship again, and some day I hope—I hope that he will make a good husband. Then, if Ballangier could fall in with a woman like you, Mignonne, gentle and virtuous and hard-working, and if he could win her love, he would be altogether happy."