Isaure made no reply; she lowered her eyes, feeling intimidated by the tone of the stranger, whose glance, fixed constantly upon her, caused her an embarrassment which she could not overcome.
"You are pretty, my child!" continued the vagabond; "very pretty, on my word, and much more so than I thought before I had such a good look at you. But this beauty will lead you into adventures. Men adore pretty women, or at least, if they do not really adore them, they pay assiduous court to them. For my part, that seems to me no more than right; it is more natural to offer incense to a lovely woman than to adore oxen, stags, crocodiles, monkeys, cats, and even onions, as used to be done by the Egyptians, the most ancient of nations, and yet, as you see, not the most sensible for that reason. So you will be adored.—But what am I saying! it has begun already, no doubt. You blush! deuce take it! there’s nothing out of the common course in that."
"I do not know what you mean, monsieur," rejoined Isaure with a sincerity which would have convinced any other than the man who sat opposite her.
"You do not know!" muttered the stranger, shrugging his shoulders. "That is the way they all talk! they never do know! they are always innocent and pure! And when we have proofs of their treachery, when we place those proofs under their eyes, they still answer with an air of the utmost good faith, that they do not know how it happened!"
A bitter smile played about the stranger’s lips; his eyebrows contracted, and he seemed engrossed by painful memories. Isaure, trembling violently, moved her chair away; her eyes expressed the terror which had taken possession of her. Soon the stranger glanced at her, and divined her fear; whereupon he resumed his customary careless air and said to her:
"Why do you move away from me like that?"
"Why,—monsieur,—I thought that you were angry."
"Angry? not at all! With whom do you suppose that I am angry, for heaven’s sake?—Let us come back to you, my child; come, move your chair nearer and do not tremble so."
Isaure complied, as if against her will, with her guest’s request; the familiar tone in which he addressed her would have offended her if he had not seemed so destitute; but she believed him to be unfortunate, and she attributed to compassion the submission which she displayed.
"I told you that you were pretty; it certainly was not that which made you move your chair away. Others must have told you so before; and among others, the two young men who have called upon you every morning for some time past."