"At that age I had already had fifty love-affairs!"
"Oh! but you--an author--that's a very different matter; you weren't shy."
"I never was that; there is nothing more disastrous for a man. If you take my advice, you will cure yourself of that failing."
"Papa and mamma don't say so; they want to keep me in leading strings like a poodle. Let them keep my sister so if they choose; that's all right--she's a girl! But me! Yes, you're right; there's nothing more foolish than a bashful man. But I don't propose to be bashful any more; I feel inclined to make people talk about me.--Were you buying flowers, Monsieur Jéricourt?"
"Yes--that is to say, I was looking over them; I haven't decided yet."
Little Astianax put his mouth to his neighbor's ear and whispered:
"Do you think so? That's a matter of taste."
"Hum! nonsense! Anybody can see that; I noticed her yesterday; I came with mamma and my sister to buy some flowers, because it was papa's birthday. I didn't buy any; I gave him some nougat."
"Oh! it doesn't make any difference, I am going to give him some flowers to-day; and I came here again, for I dreamed of the flower girl all night."
"Yes, yes; I was a pacha and she was a slave."
"Mademoiselle," said Jéricourt aloud, turning to Violette, "here's a young man who dreamed about you all night, just because he saw you yesterday."
Monsieur Astianax turned scarlet; he pulled the skirt of Jéricourt's coat and whispered: "Oh! I won't tell you anything more! You make me blush!"
"Don't be alarmed; on the contrary, I am acting in your interest; you are in love with mademoiselle--very good, I tell her so for you. Who knows? perhaps you will be more fortunate than the rest of us, especially as you have all that a man requires to succeed."
Jéricourt uttered the last words in such an ironical tone that any other than little Astianax would have taken them in very bad part; but he, on the contrary, accepted them as the truth; he smiled and twisted his mouth into the shape of an ace of spades, while his eyes shot flames to right and left.
Violette restrained the intense desire to laugh caused by young Astianax's contortions of feature; she said as she arranged her flowers:
"Come, monsieur, choose. Do you want a bouquet? Here's a very pretty one,--as monsieur doesn't take it."