"Come quick; it isn’t too hot."
"It looks all red to me. My dear love, be careful not to burn me, I beseech you."
"Dieu! he’s a perfect little lamb when he’s frightened!—To return to our scene of last night: we had just gone to bed, and I was reading—because, without flattering myself, I am the best reader. Auguste had lent us the Barons von Felsheim, and we were devouring it—that is the word—when, in the middle of a charming chapter, someone knocked at our door, and we heard madame’s voice calling:—‘Mesdemoiselles, why have you a light burning so late?’—At that the most profound silence replaced our bursts of laughter, and to hide the light,—for we didn’t propose to put it out—it occurred to me to put a vessel—you know, a night vessel,—over the candle-stick. That worked very well; she couldn’t see anything. Madame called again, and we didn’t answer. Then madame went away; and when we thought she was back in her room, I took off the protecting vessel.—What do you suppose? The light was really out. We were in despair; we didn’t feel like sleeping, and we didn’t want to be left in the middle of a very interesting chapter, in which there’s something about truffles—and not a match, because we haven’t as yet saved up a sufficient sum to purchase that commodity, for milliner’s apprentices aren’t in the habit of patronizing savings banks. However, we were determined to have a light, and for my own part, I would have gone out and unhooked the street lantern rather than not finish my chapter. Just at that moment we heard your guitar and your voice. Ah! my dear, you have no idea of the effect that produced on us! You were an Orpheus, a demigod!—‘Not in bed yet!’ we shouted all together, and in an instant I was out of bed; I put on the petticoat of modesty, because love of reading shouldn’t carry one so far as to go about naked, and I ran to the door and opened it; but I hadn’t taken two steps on the landing when I felt someone seize my arm, and madame, who was watching at the door, cried:
"‘Aha! so this is the way you sleep, mesdemoiselles! But I propose to find out who it is that dares to leave the room in spite of my orders—to light her candle, I suppose.—I knew too much to make any answer. Madame called to Julie to come up with a light. I got away from her; and while she stood in the doorway to keep me from going back, I ran down to her apartment, put out the candles, and threw the matches out of the window. So madame couldn’t find out who it was that came out, and we passed the time feeling around for each other.—There! your hair’s all done, my friend."
"Thank God!—I remember that you made noise enough.—I must wait till they’re cold before I take them off.—Fifine! you’re a perfect devil! But no matter—I love you sincerely, and if I should ever be rich like Alfred——"
"Ah! then we should see some fine things, shouldn’t we?"
"Yes; you would see—In the first place, wealth wouldn’t make me any different; it’s so absurd to be proud and self-satisfied just because one has a few more yellow boys in one’s pocket! Does it increase one’s merit? I ask you that, Fifine?"
"It is certain that if you were a millionaire, your eyes wouldn’t be any larger."
"Bah! unkind girl! they are large enough to admire you.—Oh! stop that!"
"I have never heard you speak of this Alfred, whose party you are going to."