“The deuce, my boy, you don’t know how to go about it! You tempt me to try my hand with the flower girl. If I should undertake it, I will wager that the affair would go faster,—eh, my girl?”
As he spoke, Alfred tried to take Violette’s arm; but she struck him across the fingers with a bunch of roses and lilacs that she held; and as there were some thorns in the bunch, the young dandy made a wry face as he withdrew his hand.
“Bigre! she has scratched my fingers! Is this flower girl a Lucretia?”
“I told you that she resisted me, and yet you choose to meddle!”
“She plays the prude; but if I had time! I am terribly afraid of being late. Zizi will be angry; she plays to-night, and she is much more nervous when she plays! You are coming to dine with us, Jéricourt, are you not?”
“Impossible.”
“Bah! why impossible?”
“Because I dine with this lovely girl, with the flower girl.—Isn’t it true, Violette, that you will dine with me to-day?”
“Monsieur, I thought that I answered you the other day in such a way that you would not give me any more such invitations.”
“My dear love, you are too fascinating to remain virtuous long; why shouldn’t you give me the preference? I will give you your own apartment, pretty furniture, pretty dresses; the theatre every evening; that’s the life that awaits you!”