"You must come to see me in Paris; I shall probably return next week. Georget will let you know."
"Georget! do you think he will speak to me?"
"I think that he will ask nothing better; for he has been very unhappy about not coming to Paris these last few days, the poor boy!"
"Oh! how kind you are to tell me that, monsieur!"
And tears of joy glistened in the pretty flower girl's eyes. The count, with a friendly nod, walked away, bidding her au revoir, and leaving in the girl's heart so much joy and happiness that there was no room there for the memory of her past sorrow.
While these things were taking place in Paris, Chicotin, seeing that Violette had recovered her health, had started early in the morning, on foot, for Nogent, in order to tell Georget all that had happened to the young flower girl.
Chicotin had found his former comrade walking sadly back and forth on the lawn in front of the count's house, gazing with a melancholy air at the Paris road, by which Monsieur de Brévanne had departed, without bidding him accompany him, and wondering why he went to Paris so often.
At sight of his friend, Georget uttered a joyful exclamation and threw himself into Chicotin's arms; whereupon the latter, without stopping to rest or to take breath, proceeded to tell his comrade all that had happened to Violette,--her journey to Nogent, her despair, her illness, and finally her recovery.
It would be difficult to describe Georget's state during this narrative; listening intently, choking with grief, weeping and uttering cries of joy in turn, he exclaimed:
"She is not guilty! what joy! poor girl, turned away, determined to die! Oh! mon Dieu! I should have died too!"
He hardly gave his friend time to finish his story; he leaped on his neck, embraced him, kissed him again and again, stammering in a voice broken by sobs:
"It was you who saved her; it was due to you that she did not throw herself into the canal, where she would have died; for so late at night no one would have seen her, no one would have taken her out of the water! Ah! I love you almost as much as I do her; I pray for only one thing, and that is, that I may be able to prove my gratitude some day!"
"Well, well! what a silly fellow! here's a lot of talk for the simplest kind of an action: a man sees a girl trying to kill herself, and prevents her--I should like to know if that thing isn't done every day; any boy in the street would do as much."