"Ah, my child, the quality of yours consists principally in preserving your virtue, and at my age one has no need of a talisman to preserve that."
"My virtue! Do magicians take virtue from young girls?"
"Not only magicians, but fascinating gallants,—finally, all the worthless fellows of whom M. Touquet was talking to you this morning."
"And what would these people do with my virtue?"
"My dear child, that is to say, they would seek to turn your head, to give you a taste for coquetry, dissipation, baubles, vanity and deceit; then you would be no longer my good, sweet Blanche."
"Ah, I understand; but, dear nurse, without a talisman I fully believe that I should never have those tastes. I would do nothing that should cause trouble to those who had taken care of me from my infancy, who have done so much for me since I lost my father."
"That's all very well, my child, but with a talisman you see I am much easier; and if M. Touquet believed about it as I do, he would give you a little more liberty. Not that I blame him for fearing for you the attempts of worthless fellows; you are growing every day so pretty."
"Dear nurse, do worthless fellows trouble pretty girls, then?"
"Alas, yes, my dearie. I have seen them often do so; and, unfortunately, the pretty girls listen willingly to the good-for-nothing fellows."
"They listen willingly to them, nurse? Is it because they speak better than other men?"