"I should like to press it always, to hold it incessantly against my heart."
"And is that yet another proof of love?"
"Yes, Blanche, but if it displeases you I will not keep this dear hand."
"Oh, that doesn't displease me, but yours is burning. It makes mine warm. And why are you trembling? Is it love that makes you like that?"
"Yes, it burns me, it consumes me."
"Oh, it must be very unpleasant to love like that."
The young bachelor, to solace, no doubt, the malady which devoured him, carried Blanche's hand to his lips and covered it with kisses. The young girl allowed him to do so, although the passionate glances of her lover were beginning to produce a strange feeling of uneasiness in her heart. Her breast rose more frequently, she sighed, and said in a faint voice,—
"Urbain—Ursule; mon Dieu, I don't know what's the matter with me, but I am afraid I've caught your malady. Wait! see how I am trembling now! Oh, my talisman, my talisman!"
Poor Blanche, what will you do? While promising to himself to respect the virtue of the young girl, Urbain yielded to the ardor which inflamed him, and pressed Blanche tightly in his arms, begging her not to tremble; Blanche, astonished, did not repulse him, for excessive innocence has also its dangers, but at this moment somebody knocked violently at the door of the room and the barber's stern voice uttered these words,—
"Open the door, Blanche! I command you to open the door!"