That beginning was not of good augury. No matter, I continued the attack, moving gradually nearer the girl.
“I swear to you, Nicette, that I never make fun of anyone!”
“Besides, you are quite pretty enough to arouse a genuine passion.”
“Yes, a passion of a fortnight! Oh! I ain’t to be caught in that trap.”
“On my honor, you are too pretty for a flower girl.”
“Bah! you are joking.”
“If you chose, Nicette, you could find something better to do than that.”
“No, monsieur, no; I don’t want to sell anything but bouquets. Oh! I ain’t vain. I refused Beauvisage, who’s got money, and who’d have given me calico dresses, caps à la glaneuse, and gilt chains; but all those things didn’t tempt me. When I don’t like a person, nothing can make me change my mind.”
She was not covetous; so that it was necessary to win her regard in order to obtain anything from her. I determined to win her regard. But I have this disadvantage when I try to make myself agreeable: I never know what I am saying; that was why I sat for ten minutes without speaking a word to Nicette, contenting myself with frequent profound sighs and an occasional cough, to revive the conversation. But Nicette was very innocent, or perhaps she meant to laugh at me when she said with great sang-froid: