"Well! what is his answer? Tell me at once; I have been dying of impatience for an hour!"
"His answer? It wasn't worth while following him so far to listen to that!"
"Ah! I understand; Violette is guilty!"
"Well! according to what that gentleman says, he triumphed over the flower girl. When I said to him: 'Be kind enough, monsieur, to tell me something about Mamzelle Violette's virtue, because I know someone who desires to marry her,' he began to laugh in a sneering way, saying: 'Her virtue! the flower girl's virtue! Ah! this is charming! delicious!' and then a lot of stuff that I couldn't understand at all. However, I think he saw you, for he added: 'It's for your little friend that you are asking these questions.'—I replied: 'No, monsieur, it's for myself.'—At that he began to laugh again! How mad that made me, and how I would have liked to hit him, but that wouldn't have helped matters at all! Then he said: 'Only idiots believe in the virtue of these girls who make such a parade of prudery and cruelty. Violette came to my room of her own free will, and when a pretty girl comes to my room, everybody knows what that means; my reputation is established. Say that to the clown who is in love with her.'—And with that he turned on his heel and began to sing. Ah! that fellow is a miserable villain all the same, and I don't advise him to give me any more errands to do, or I'll take pains to make a mistake! I'll carry his notes to the husbands instead of giving them to their wives, and we'll see if that will make him laugh!—Well, Georget, you are unhappy, you long to cry! Come, come! deuce take it! Everything hasn't come to an end! You must be a man, you must show that you are no longer a little brat! As if a man should pass his life whining about a girl who has deceived him! Why, if we should cry every time a woman plays tricks on us, men would have red noses all the time, and that wouldn't be pretty. And then, after all, the girl never made you any promise, you told me so yourself; she was free to give her heart where she chose!"
Georget wiped his eyes, faltering:
"Yes, you are right, Chicotin. Violette was free, and I have no right to blame her. I am a great fool to grieve so, for after all you have told me nothing new; but you see, when I saw this morning how pale and changed she was, I imagined—oh! a lot more foolish things; and then you yourself told me that I was wrong to suspect her."
"Why, I would have put my hand in the fire over that girl's virtue! That was my idea of her!"
"Oh! I don't blame you, Chicotin; on the contrary, I love you for it."
"And where are you living now? You've left Paris."
"Yes, I am at Nogent-sur-Marne, on a beautiful place, belonging to Monsieur Malberg, a man who has been very kind to my mother and me. We want nothing there; on the contrary, we are very fortunate."