"Mercy, yes, I believe I should, for then you couldn't be my friend any more. I couldn't love you as a sister."
"But Blanche, if I were a man I should be your lover. A most tender, a most faithful lover. I could love you to distraction, and love is much stronger than friendship. Then, if you will share my affection, could there exist a mortal happier than I? Dear Blanche, if I could only possess your heart. Is there anything more precious on earth? To obtain it, I would give the last drop of my blood."
While speaking Urbain, engrossed by his love, no longer sought to disguise his voice. His arms still surrounded Blanche and the young girl, greatly moved, dropped on the knees of the young bachelor, saying in a feeble voice,—
"Mon Dieu, Ursule, don't say such things to me. They make me uneasy. I don't know what's the matter with me. I feel that I wish to cry. What use is it to tell such falsehoods, to speak of love and of loving? Ursule, somebody has told me that it is very wrong to talk about those things. O heavens! since you haven't your cap on, I dare not look at you."
"Blanche! dear Blanche!"
"Well now, you're still pretending to be a man, and it frightens me. Come, Ursule, be a woman again, I beg of you."
"No, Blanche, I will not deceive you further. It is a man—it's—the most tender lover who is near you."
By a sudden movement Blanche rose and escaped to the other end of the room; Urbain did not seek to restrain her, but fell on his knees and held out his hands towards her, seeming to await her forgiveness, while the young girl looked at him with eyes which expressed more surprise than fear.
"What? are you really a man?" said the amiable child, after a moment.
"Yes, mademoiselle."