"That all these plans are not certain to be carried out. For, before I can marry you, before I can have the happiness of calling you my wife, I must have money in hand. Your aunt, Madame Vardeine, will never consent to give you to a poor messenger; and she will be in the right. Oh! yes, parents are always right. You are fitted to marry a rich man, with an established position—a man whose honorable calling will not expose you to the risk of having to blush for your husband. Not that I despise my trade! far from it; but the world has its customs, its exigencies, its laws, which we are bound to respect. The man who stands at the street corner, to do errands, cannot hope to be received in the salon of the humblest bourgeois. And you, Elina, with your charms, your intelligence, your beauty, are capable of conferring happiness on a man who will be able to take you into society, who will have an attractive position and a name to offer you. Whereas I lack everything. Ah! you see that I do wrong to love you! and that I am justified in being depressed!"
While her young friend was saying this, little Elina showed, by repeated impatient gestures, how far she was from sharing his ideas. At last, barely giving him time to finish, she cried:
"Hush! hush this minute! for what you are saying is very wicked. So you would have me cease to love you, because you are a messenger! But I insist upon loving you, monsieur, and I will love you whether you want me to or not. Besides, what you say isn't fair to yourself. Are you like other messengers? do you swear every time you speak? are you coarse and vulgar, and rude in your manners? No, you are just the opposite; you are perfectly well fitted to go into a salon; indeed, you would not be out of place; all you would have to do would be to change your jacket for a coat; and is that so hard to do?"
"No; but the coat isn't enough."
"I beg your pardon, monsieur—a coat and education. But are you obliged to remain a messenger forever? When we are married, you can go into something else; you will have saved something, for you can't spend very much money, you live so modestly; you never go to the wine shop. I have heard your comrades say more than once: 'He must be saving money; he works hard, and never enjoys himself.'"
Paul looked at the ground as he replied:
"Alas! no, mademoiselle; I haven't saved anything; I have no money."
"Why, what do you do with your money, then?" cried Elina. "You can't give it to your parents, as you haven't any."
Paul blushed, and stammered:
"I haven't been able to save anything, mademoiselle; it isn't my fault."