While Monsieur Malberg was speaking, Georget, listening intently, changed color several times; sometimes he enjoyed the thought of the pleasant and happy life which was offered him; sometimes his brow became clouded and thoughtful; and it was plain that a bitter conflict was going on in his heart. When Monsieur Malberg ceased to speak, the poor boy said not a word, but seemed afraid to reply.
"Well, Georget, you say nothing; does that mean that you do not understand my proposal?"
"Oh! I beg pardon, monsieur; I understand perfectly all that you offer to do for us; what a peaceful and happy life you offer us; to live on a pleasant estate in the country, to have duties which are only pleasures, and to be paid for it all! Oh! that is too much good fortune. And my poor mother, who is so fond of the country and of gardens! Ah! how happy she would be there!"
The young man lowered his eyes; and soon two great tears escaped from them; he hid his face behind his handkerchief, stammering:
"You decline what would be, you say, a happy life for you, and would give your mother so much pleasure! I can't understand you!"
"Yes, monsieur, I decline. Oh! I know very well that what I am doing is wrong! It is a horrible thing on my part to refuse what would certainly give my mother rest and happiness! It is outrageous, it is a wicked thing for me to do! But it is too much for me, monsieur! You won't tell mother, I implore you, monsieur--will you? You won't tell her that you offered me all this and I refused? It would make her unhappy and perhaps she wouldn't forgive me!"
And poor Georget knelt at Monsieur Malberg's feet, repeating: "I beg you, monsieur, don't say anything to my mother!"
"Rise, Georget, rise; no, of course I won't say anything to your mother. Indeed, you must have powerful reasons for acting thus! Don't weep, my friend, I do not wish to cause you pain; once more I say, forget my offer and let us not mention the subject again."
"Forget it! Oh, no! I know very well that I shall not forget it, monsieur! It was so kind of you! As to my reasons--my reasons for declining, I haven't got but one, but I don't dare to tell you what it is."
"Keep your secret; I don't ask any questions."
"But I don't want you to think of me as a bad son, as a fellow who prefers the life of a vagabond in Paris to his mother's happiness, monsieur. No; I would rather tell you everything. I am in love, monsieur; yes, madly in love with a young flower girl at the Château d'Eau, on the boulevard yonder. Violette is so pretty, and a respectable, virtuous girl, who doesn't listen to anybody!"