"Yes, I have noticed all that. But I have seen nothing more in it than a bit of spite because of what you said to her one day."
"Oh! there's something besides her remembrance of that. To-day, I determined to have it out with her. I succeeded, by several adroit questions, in making her betray the secret of her heart, which, by the way, had been no secret to me for a long time."
"Well! what is this secret?"
"You won't be angry, Charles? At all events, you are not in the least to blame for it. So I begin by telling you that I am not offended with you for it."
"Oh! how cruel you are with your reflections, Frédérique!"
"Well! Mignonne loves you dearly. That is the secret that makes her melancholy and embarrassed—especially when I am there; because she has imagined, foolishly of course, but still she has imagined that you love me, that I am—your mistress! If she had heard Mademoiselle Rosette repeat your remark—that you would never love me—she wouldn't entertain that absurd idea."
"Ah! Frédérique, you know very well that——"
"Don't interrupt me, my friend; besides, we are not talking about that, but about Mignonne. When she sees me come in, when I am with you, her eyes fill with tears, and she looks at the floor so that we may not see them. Yes, my friend, you can believe my extensive experience, believe my heart, which is never mistaken—that young woman has a profound affection for you. That which was only gratitude at first has become love! She is accustomed to see you almost every day. Perhaps she does not herself realize the strength of the sentiment that draws her toward you; but she yields to the fascination she feels; and that love will acquire greater force in her heart, if you yourself do not try to uproot it."
Mignonne in love with me! It seemed improbable to me at first; but as I recalled a multitude of trivial circumstances, I became less incredulous.
"Why, I have never lisped a word of love to her; nothing in my conduct can have given her any reason to think that I was in love with her."