"I confess that the velvet of my jerkin is a little tarnished, but what could you expect? When a man fights he necessarily attracts dust and powder. Here's a cloak that I've not had more than six weeks, and I'll wager that you would say it had been worn for some months."
"Decide on your ribbon, monsieur," said the young girl, without answering.
"Give me a gold-colored rosette," said Chaudoreille; and he added in a mysterious tone, "I have something very important to communicate to you."
"I doubt it," said Julia.
"Come," said Chaudoreille to himself, "I'll wager that she believes that I'm in love with her and is impatiently awaiting my declaration. I'm incorrigible; I let myself go, and I have turned her head without even perceiving it. Let us hasten to disabuse her.—No, beautiful brunette, you need not doubt it," responded he, lowering his eyes with a coquettish air; "I ought to confess to you that it is not of myself that I seek you, and that I am only the ambassador of Love, when you would have taken me for Love himself."
Julia's hearty laughter prevented Chaudoreille from continuing, and he did not know at first how to take this excessive gayety; but his self-love always made him place things to his own advantage, and he decided to laugh also, while saying in a low tone to the young girl,—
"Isn't it very funny to behold in me a lover's messenger?—I, who could cheat them all of their conquests. It's a great joke, in truth."
"Come, monsieur ambassador, give me your message," said Julia, looking pityingly at the envoy.
Chaudoreille threw a glance all around him, put a finger on his mouth, examined the persons who were in the shop, pushed from him a stool on which the cat was lying, then leaning toward Julia with the air of a conspirator, he whispered in her ear,—
"A great lord sent me to you. He's a rich and powerful man; he's a personage in favor; he's the gallant who—"