"You don't tell me everything, my friend. You are concealing something from me at this moment!"
He blushed, became confused, and stammered:
"Concealing something? I? Why, I don't think so!"
"You are not very sure, are you? But I'll tell you straight away what it is: you're in love!"
This time he turned pale.
"In love? with whom, pray?"
"With whom? Why, with that young woman whom you have seen several times at my rooms, and whom I call Madame Landernoy—or Mignonne."
"Oh! nonsense, Charles! you are mistaken. I consider her very good-looking, to be sure; and then, her manner is so sweet and so modest! But I certainly shouldn't presume to fall in love with her, especially as—as you might not like it! For, you see, you have a right to love her, you have done so much for her, and you give her work to do."
"My friend, if that is all that prevents you, you may fall in love with Mignonne at your pleasure; for, so far as I am concerned, I look upon her as a sister; I have never dreamed of loving her in any other way; and for the very reason that I have been of some service to her and that she has enough confidence in me to come to my rooms to work, I should feel bound in honor not to love her otherwise than as a sister."
Ballangier's face became radiant. He seized both my hands and squeezed them hard; he would have cut capers in the street, if I had not prevented him.