“Ah! here you are, Monsieur Dorsan; I was waiting for you.”
I recognized my little flower girl, whom the sight of Mademoiselle Caroline had banished from my memory. She had not forgotten me; she was waiting for me in the street! and it was nearly twelve o’clock!
“How long have you been here, Nicette?”
“Since nine o’clock, monsieur.”
“Why did you wait so long for me?”
“Oh! monsieur, please forgive me, but I couldn’t stand it; I wanted to thank you again, and tell you what I have done with my money.”
“My dear girl, that wasn’t necessary; I am sure that you are behaving as you ought.”
“Don’t you like it because I waited for you, monsieur? If you don’t, I’ll go away——”
I knew by the sound of her voice that she was ready to weep. Had I spoken harshly to her? She was going away with a heavy heart, but I took her hand and detained her. She heaved a deep sigh. Poor Nicette! could it be for me? If so, I pitied her. In truth, I did not deserve to be loved by a sensitive, faithful heart; and yet, I wanted women to adore me and to be faithful to me: reconcile the two, if you can.
“Come, my dear Nicette, tell me all you have done since last night?”