"Yes, monsieur, there are curtains," answered the young girl timidly.
"Blanche, I've told you that I don't like you to expose yourself to the oglings of the coxcombs who pass and repass in the street."
"But, my friend, can anyone see me through the windows?"
"Yes; no doubt of it."
"Oh, well, my friend, if that displeases you, I won't go to the window again."
Touched by Blanche's sweetness, the barber assumed a less severe expression, and, rising from the table, he said, almost kindly,—
"Go back to your room, Blanche; I will try soon to render your life less monotonous. Yes, I feel that you cannot continually remain in such dull retirement."
"Why, I am all right, my friend; and if I could only learn that romance altogether, but M. Chaudoreille only sings me his villanelle, and that is not amusing."
"I will buy you some others."
"Oh, try to get me the one I heard this morning,—