“Have you got a bad cold, monsieur?”
I blushed at my idiocy; the idea of being so doltish and timid with a flower seller! Really, I hardly recognized myself.
And the better to recognize myself, I put my arms about Nicette and tried to draw her into my lap.
“Let go of me, monsieur; let go, I beg you!”
“Why, what harm are we doing, Nicette?”
“I don’t want you to squeeze me so tight.”
“One kiss, and I’ll let you go.”
“Just one, all right.”
Her consent was necessary, for she was very well able to defend herself; she was strong and could make a skilful use of her hands and knees; and as I was not accustomed to contests of that sort, in which our society ladies give us little practice, I began to think that I should find it difficult to triumph over the girl.
She gave me permission to kiss her, and I made the most of it; trusting in my promise, she allowed me to take that coveted kiss, and offered me her fresh, rosy cheek, still graced with the down of youth and innocence.