"But the dessert, Blanchette, the dessert. I will say no more if only you will bring it in, instantly." "Ah, I had forgotten," said Blanchette, going to the cupboard and bringing thence an immense plate of _croquignoles_ of all sizes and shapes, delicately powdered with white sugar. "There, Messieurs; there is the _tour de force_. If you have not eaten too much chicken, perhaps you will enjoy the _croquignoles_. And I have a little bottle of currant wine, too, to finish. Monsieur Giroux, I drink to our better acquaintance." "And I," said Jean, quite disarmed by the kindness of those whom he had thought to be his enemies, "to your health, Mademoiselle Blanchette! To yours, Monsieur Laroche! Permit me to say that I have never tasted currant wine so delicious, and that the _croquignoles_ are beyond all praise." "They are not so bad, Jean, and I am glad that you like them. As you see, my friend, I have made a study of human nature, and I know how to please men by good food and drink--and a little flattery." "Well, Mademoiselle, you succeed marvellously, I must confess." "Yes, Jean; but, as you may have observed, I have this time omitted the flattery." "Mademoiselle, it is lucky for me that you have omitted something, else I should have surrendered without the honours of war." "That would not do at all, Jean. He who gives to me his hand gives his heart also, and must be able to say, with a certain king: ’All is lost save honour.’ Could you say that?" "Mademoiselle, what shall I say? You are a sorceress, I think." "But no, Jean, only one who observes. It is like walking through the forest where there are signs that one may read if one has eyes to see. And there are little birds, too, that tell one things. But tell me; how does your house advance? It will soon be finished, will it not?" "Very soon, Mademoiselle--in ten weeks, or less." "Good. I am delighted to hear it. See, I will give you a toast, neighbour Jean. To your health, to the health of all whom you love. To your success in everything--everything. Do you understand?" "Yes, Blanchette, I understand, and I thank you." "What are you saying, you two?" said the old man. "Why all this mysterious talk? For me, I do not understand at all. Yet you have your secrets, I suppose." "Naturally," said Blanchette, smiling. "We have at least one great secret. Shall I tell him, Jean? Shall I tell you, my father? As to this Jean Baptiste, I like him very much, and we are going to be the best of friends, but I will not marry him. Say nothing--I will not." The old man stared at his daughter for some moments in mingled anger and amazement; but presently, his reason getting the better of his rage, he replied, in the tone of an indulgent parent to a wayward child: