Chambourdin and Georget, who were only a few steps away, had overheard everything. The young messenger could no longer contain himself; he ran forward and stood in front of Violette, pale and trembling, with blazing eyes, and said to her in a broken voice:
“So it is true! so it is true, as you don’t deny it!”
The flower girl, greatly surprised at Georget’s sudden appearance in front of her, was embarrassed for a moment, and stammered at last:
“Well! if it was so, is that any reason for speaking to me like this?”
“The question is decided!” muttered Chambourdin, addressing Georget; “you see, my little innocent, that my friend did not lie!”
“Oh! it is frightful! I would never have believed it! And my mother, my poor mother, whom I sacrificed for her! The good Lord is punishing me for it.—Adieu, Mademoiselle Violette! I will never speak to you again!”
Having said this, Georget ran off like a mad man, and speedily disappeared.
Violette looked after him, and tears gathered in her eyes; she turned to young Astianax, and said to him simply:
“Are you quite satisfied with what you have done, monsieur?”
Astianax lowered one eye and raised the other, then took Chambourdin’s arm, saying: