"But can anyone know such things?"
"Oh! you are right, Miretta; is it possible to know the secrets of the heart? But look you, Miretta: I am very sure of one thing—that is, that you love someone!"
"I, mademoiselle?" replied the girl, blushing.
"Yes, yes! you! Come, tell me the secrets of your heart; since you have been in my service, I have watched you closely; in the first place, you are not light-hearted and merry, as a girl should be; you sigh very often; and when you think that you are not observed, you raise your eyes to heaven as if in entreaty—for whom? Ah! it can only be for the man whom one loves that one addresses such eloquent glances to heaven! Am I wrong, Miretta? have you not in your heart a love which makes you unhappy? Come, confess it!"
"Yes, mademoiselle, you are not mistaken; it is true that my heart is—is no longer mine."
"Ah! I was perfectly sure of it; but then the man whom you love so dearly does not reciprocate, since you sigh so much?"
"I beg pardon, mademoiselle; the man I love does return my love."
"Then why are you sad so often? Perhaps it is because there are obstacles; you are not allowed to see each other, you are forbidden to love."
"There are many obstacles, mademoiselle, in truth, and I meet him very rarely."
"But he is in Paris, is he?"