"You are not very sure, are you? But I'll tell you straight away what it is: you're in love!" This time he turned pale. "In love? with whom, pray?" "With whom? Why, with that young woman whom you have seen several times at my rooms, and whom I call Madame Landernoy--or Mignonne." "Oh! nonsense, Charles! you are mistaken. I consider her very good-looking, to be sure; and then, her manner is so sweet and so modest! But I certainly shouldn't presume to fall in love with her, especially as--as you might not like it! For, you see, you have a right to love her, you have done so much for her, and you give her work to do." "My friend, if that is all that prevents you, you may fall in love with Mignonne at your pleasure; for, so far as I am concerned, I look upon her as a sister; I have never dreamed of loving her in any other way; and for the very reason that I have been of some service to her and that she has enough confidence in me to come to my rooms to work, I should feel bound in honor not to love her otherwise than as a sister." Ballangier's face became radiant. He seized both my hands and squeezed them hard; he would have cut capers in the street, if I had not prevented him. "Is it possible?" he cried. "You don't love her! you don't think of loving her! Oh! if you knew what a weight you have taken off my breast!--For I do love her, Charles; yes, I do love that young woman! love her, do I say? why, I idolize her, I am mad over her! It took me all of a sudden when I first saw her, it struck me here! Since then, it's impossible for me to think of anything else. But I wouldn't ever have told you; I wouldn't ever have told her, either. You'll forgive me; for I thought that, with her always in your rooms--I thought you couldn't help loving her--but nothing of the sort! You see, I've never been in love before; I've known a lot of street walkers--but as to love, not a bit of it! And now, what a difference! And how proud I am to be a decent, hard-working man again! Perhaps I might take her fancy. Do you think she'll ever love me, Charles? Oh! if she could love me!" I strove to calm him; then I began by telling him Mignonne's whole story. He listened attentively, muttering from time to time: "Poor girl! the villains!" When he knew all, I asked him if he still deemed Mignonne worthy to be his wife. "Do I think her worthy? Yes, indeed, poor girl! The least she's entitled to is to find a man who'll make up for all the injury others have done her. But suppose I should begin by killing this Fouvenard? by smashing this Rambertin?" "No, no, Ballangier; we must forget those wretches. If an opportunity should offer, I don't say----" "Ah! how quickly we'd seize it! how we'd trounce those fellows!"