"But first of all," said Zizi, "as I am rather inquisitive, I want to hear the story of that little bunch of violets that you promised me."
"Ah! so he has stories too!" muttered the literary man; "sapristi! we are going to have a deal of entertainment!"
"Perhaps you will have much more than you expect, monsieur," replied Roncherolle, with a meaning glance at Jéricourt. "But I begin—this little bunch of violets I got from a flower girl,—nothing more commonplace than that, eh? But what is less commonplace is that this young flower girl, who is remarkably pretty, is as virtuous and respectable as she is pretty. Now, this is what happened to her last summer: a young man of the world, a dandy, who, I believe, claims to be a literary man, saw the charming flower girl and found her to his liking; he made such speeches to her as all young men make to pretty girls—thus far there was nothing that was not perfectly natural."
"I say!" cried Saint-Arthur; "why, that's like Jéricourt and——"
"Pray let monsieur finish!" said Jéricourt, who had become very attentive within a few seconds.
"But, as I was saying, the pretty flower girl, who is virtuous and who, moreover, is in love with a handsome young fellow, did not listen to our dandy's suggestions, but received them very coldly. What does he do to triumph over the girl? He sends a man to order and pay for a very handsome bouquet, with a request to the flower girl to carry it herself to a lady whose address he gives her, informing her that that lady will have other orders for her. The girl falls into the snare—for you will guess that she was sent to the gallant himself, who had told his concierge to allow the flower girl to go up to his room."
"Why, this is strange, it resembles——"
"Hold your tongue, Frefred! this story interests me immensely."
Jéricourt did not utter a word, but he had become very pale. Roncherolle continued his narrative, with his eyes still fastened upon him.
"Behold then our flower girl in the young man's room, which she had entered without suspicion, for a woman had opened the door. But soon he who has been persecuting her with his addresses appears; he is alone with her, he no longer conceals his purpose to triumph over her resistance; the girl sees her danger, summons all her courage, and resists so effectively that the enterprising gentleman receives upon his face the marks of that stout defence—indeed, they have not altogether disappeared yet; he is obliged to let a woman who defends herself so well go her way. You will assume that that was the end of it all; and indeed, it should have been; but no, because that girl was virtuous, because she did not choose to cease to be virtuous, because she had given her heart to another, the gentleman in question deemed it becoming to proclaim everywhere that the pretty flower girl had been his mistress, that she had come to his room of her own free will,—in short, that she was an abandoned girl; he dishonored her in the eyes of all those who loved her. I say that that is dastardly, infamous! and do not you think that so much lying and slander deserve to be punished?"