I turned to walk away—but perhaps that man could tell me something. Nicette had a shop; what was I to conclude from that? I trembled to think! Had some other man been more fortunate than I? had she listened to some other man? and did another possess that treasure which I might have obtained and which it had cost me such a struggle to respect?
I returned to the messenger, put some money in his hand, and began to question him.
“Do you know this flower girl?”
“Yes, monsieur, I know her—not very well, though, for she’s a bit proud; she don’t talk much to anybody but her customers; and even then you mustn’t say too much, or she’ll send you about your business. Oh! she’s a good girl, I tell you! She’s virtuous, and the virtuous ones are always noticed.”
The man’s praise of Nicette caused me the keenest delight; I should have been sorry to learn that I could no longer esteem her.
“You say that she’s virtuous, eh?”
“Yes, monsieur; we messengers know what’s what; and then, I see everything that goes on. It isn’t that Mamzelle Nicette lacks lovers. Oh! pardi! the whole quarter, if she chose! she’s so pretty! and she has a fine lot of customers. It’s hardly six weeks since she set up on this street; but the young men soon spied her, and there’s a whole mob of dandies that come to buy flowers, just to make love to her, you understand. But Mamzelle Nicette don’t sell anything but bouquets. I must do her that justice. She won’t listen to the swells any more than the footmen; and when some sly fellow orders flowers of her, to have her bring them to him, he gets caught, for she just sends them by the wigmaker’s little girl.”
I walked away, overjoyed by all that I had learned; in two bounds I was in front of Nicette’s shop. She was already arranging her jars of flowers on boards placed outside, in the street. When she saw me, she gave a cry of surprise, dropped the carnations she had in her hand, blushed scarlet, and could hardly stammer:
“What! is it you, monsieur?”
I smiled at her astonishment and entered her shop, where I seated myself on a stool and looked at her.—How pretty she was! Joy made her even prettier, and glistened in the look with which she met mine.