Violette greeted her neighbor with a pleasant smile, saying:
"Ah! what a pleasure it is to see you like this, monsieur! how well you look! no one would ever suspect that you had been so sick."
"If I have recovered my health, it is due to you, my dear child, due to your nursing, to your pleasant company."
"Oh! monsieur, you forget that syrup which did you so much good, which cured you."
"Perhaps the syrup may have had something to do with it, but you had much more."
"Are you going to walk, monsieur? It is cold, but fine."
"I am going to dine out, my little neighbor; a feast at Monsieur Bonvalet's, nothing less."
"Oh! do be prudent then, monsieur; they say, you know, that with gout you mustn't drink champagne."
"True, but suppose that should bring it back again?"
"We mustn't anticipate misfortunes so far ahead. However, I will be prudent, and in order that I may not forget your advice, I will ask you for a small bunch of violets."
"With pleasure, monsieur.--See, is this one big enough?"
"Quite big enough; be kind enough to fasten it tight into my buttonhole."
"Gladly; there, now it is done, and I promise you that it won't come out.--That is very nice! you look as if you were my true knight now."
"And so I am, my child," replied Roncherolle, emphasizing his words, "and I hope to perform the duties of the post."
"Au revoir, my dear neighbor, au revoir!"
The young flower girl looked after Roncherolle, overcome by an emotion which she could not understand, and still murmuring:
"How he said that! I will bet that he has some purpose in wearing that bouquet in his buttonhole."
Meanwhile, Roncherolle, who did not propose to keep the others waiting, soon arrived at Bonvalet's, where he found the young actress and Saint-Arthur. Mademoiselle Zizi expressed all the pleasure that she felt at renewing her acquaintance with the professor of champagne, and said to him, scrutinizing him from head to foot:
"Why, how fine we are! how coquettish we are! we walk almost without limping, and we have such a _chicarde_ air!--you look after yourself, you do, whereas Alfred takes no care of himself at all."
"No, monsieur; your cravats have been wretchedly tied lately, and your trousers don't fit as tight as they used to."