“Oh! don’t say that, I beg of you, Monsieur Dorsan. I’m too far away from you—a poor flower girl!”
“Ah! Nicette; if you chose——”
“Adieu, Monsieur Dorsan! adieu!”
She said adieu, but she did not go. I held one of her hands; she repelled me and drew me toward her at the same time. My eyes were fixed upon hers; we said nothing; but if my porte cochère had been open, I believe that Nicette would have gone with me again. A sudden outcry aroused us from that pleasant situation. A man ran along the street, shouting thief! Nicette withdrew her hand, bade me a very affectionate good-night, and fled. I tried to detain her, but she was already far away.
I knocked at my door and was just about to enter, when the man whom I had seen running toward us, all alone, and whom I had taken for a drunken man, rushed through the porte cochère and fell headlong in the courtyard, crying:
“Safe at last!”
I recognized Raymond’s voice; I was curious to learn the end of his adventures. The concierge, hearing the uproar, arrived on the scene with a light, and we saw Raymond, his trousers torn from waistband to knee, lying at full length in the courtyard, gasping with fatigue, and trying to recover his breath.
“Mon Dieu!” cried Madame Dupont; “what has happened to you, Monsieur Raymond? a pretty mess you’re in!”
“What! is it you?” said I, in my turn; “why did you leave Tivoli without waiting for my signal?”
“Oh, yes! I fancy I should have had to wait a long while for your signal!”