“Oh! I had quite enough; I didn’t spend anything except to dress myself; and now I have some clothes and sixty francs of my own; I spend so little to live; I get along with five or six sous a day.”
“Poor child! In that case, you’re not much of a glutton; why, you must live on bread and water.”
“I beg pardon, I have a sou’s worth of milk every morning; bread dipped in milk is so good!”
“Bless my soul! It is good for those who like milk! But no matter, that diet will soon take away your fresh color. I say, you must be very fond of flowers to look at them so long, as if you wanted to kiss them!”
“Flowers! oh! I am mad over them, madame, I am never tired of gazing at them.”
“So, so! and how would you like to sell them, to make bouquets as I do?”
“Make bouquets! live among flowers! you ask me if I would like that? Oh, madame! that would be the happiest life for me. It seems to me that one has nothing more to wish for when one is a flower girl!”
“Well, my child, sit down here, by my side. I am alone, I have no children, and no one depending on me; I am beginning not to be so smart as I used to be; if you choose to stay with me and always be as good—as—as you were when you took the two little girls to walk, why, I will keep you, I will give you part of my profits; in fact, I will make a flower girl of you; does that suit you?”
“Does it suit me,—to be a flower girl! such a pleasant trade! Is it really true, madame? You are not making fun of me?”
“As true as my name is Mère Gazon; and yours?”