“You need not be afraid.”
I led her to the couch, and almost forced her to sit down by my side.
“I am alone, you see, Nicette; you have come to a bachelor’s quarters.”
“Oh! I don’t care about that, monsieur; at any rate, I didn’t have any choice.”
“Then you’re not afraid to pass the night with me?”
“No, monsieur; I see that you’re an honorable man, and that I needn’t be afraid of anything in your rooms.”
“Oho! she sees that I am an honorable man!” said I to myself; “in that case, I must have a very captivating countenance. However, I am not ill-looking; some women say that I am rather handsome; and this girl isn’t afraid to pass the night with a good-looking bachelor! Perhaps she thinks me ugly.”
These reflections annoyed me; while making them, I looked at Nicette more closely than I had hitherto been able to do. She was really very good-looking; a face at once piquant and sweet, and with some character—absolutely unlike what we ordinarily find in a flower girl: she had the freshness and charm of her flowers, and she was the daughter of a fruit peddler, of Mother Jérôme! There are such odd contrasts in nature; however, I could but acknowledge that chance had been very favorable to me this time. I began to be quite reconciled to my evening’s entertainment; I forgot the grisette and the petite-maîtresse, to think solely of the charming face at my side.
As I gazed at the girl, I had moved nearer to her; I softly passed my arm about her waist; and the more favorable the examination, the more tightly I pressed the red gown.
Nicette did not speak, but she seemed agitated; her bosom rose and fell more frequently, her respiration became shorter; she kept her eyes on the floor. Suddenly she extricated herself from my embrace, rose, and asked me, in a trembling voice, where she was to pass the night.