“I have not triumphed yet——”
“So your flower girl is a model of virtue, an untamed beauty, is she?”
“A model of virtue! Oh! I thought so for a long while. When I found how cruel she was, I fancied that Violette—that is her name—I fancied that Violette was virtuous; but I was mistaken; I was a blockhead; the flower girl is not cruel with everybody, I have a proof of it. She does her work on the sly!”
Georget, who had not lost a word of the conversation between the two young men, sprang to his feet like a flash, and planting himself in front of Astianax, said to him, glaring at him with eyes inflamed by wrath:
“You lie! you insult Violette! just because she refuses to listen to you! But you are nothing but a slanderer, do you hear?”
Little Glumeau was thunderstruck; he rolled his eyes about in all directions, and utterly failed to understand that apostrophe which fell from the clouds upon him; but Chambourdin, who was perfectly calm, stepped between Astianax and Georget, and said to the latter:
“Why do you put your oar in, my boy? Who spoke to you? Why do you presume to interfere in our conversation? Are you a spy, that you busy yourself listening to us? The deuce! you are beginning that trade very young!”
“That’s so,” said Astianax, beginning to recover from his surprise; “what does this mean? whom is this little voyou, this blackguard, talking to?”
“Oh! don’t insult me, monsieur, or I’ll punch your head; I am a messenger, a respectable young man!”
“Once more,” retorted Chambourdin, “we don’t know you; why did you listen to what monsieur was saying to me?”