I returned to the messenger, put some money in his hand, and began to question him. "Do you know this flower girl?" "Yes, monsieur, I know her--not very well, though, for she's a bit proud; she don't talk much to anybody but her customers; and even then you mustn't say too much, or she'll send you about your business. Oh! she's a good girl, I tell you! She's virtuous, and the virtuous ones are always noticed." The man's praise of Nicette caused me the keenest delight; I should have been sorry to learn that I could no longer esteem her. "You say that she's virtuous, eh?" "Yes, monsieur; we messengers know what's what; and then, I see everything that goes on. It isn't that Mamzelle Nicette lacks lovers. Oh! pardi! the whole quarter, if she chose! she's so pretty! and she has a fine lot of customers. It's hardly six weeks since she set up on this street; but the young men soon spied her, and there's a whole mob of dandies that come to buy flowers, just to make love to her, you understand. But Mamzelle Nicette don't sell anything but bouquets. I must do her that justice. She won't listen to the swells any more than the footmen; and when some sly fellow orders flowers of her, to have her bring them to him, he gets caught, for she just sends them by the wigmaker's little girl." I walked away, overjoyed by all that I had learned; in two bounds I was in front of Nicette's shop. She was already arranging her jars of flowers on boards placed outside, in the street. When she saw me, she gave a cry of surprise, dropped the carnations she had in her hand, blushed scarlet, and could hardly stammer: "What! is it you, monsieur?" I smiled at her astonishment and entered her shop, where I seated myself on a stool and looked at her.--How pretty she was! Joy made her even prettier, and glistened in the look with which she met mine. "Is it really you, Monsieur Dorsan, you, in my shop? Ah! I didn't expect such a pleasure! I had stopped hoping for it!" "Why so, Nicette?" "Why--it is so long!" "That is true. But I have things to do which make it impossible----" "Oh! I believe you, monsieur. Besides, aren't you your own master? and how can you give a thought to a girl who sells flowers?" There was something so touching in the way she spoke, that I was deeply moved. How could I ever have forgotten such charm, such innocence, such susceptibility? I could not understand it. She was still standing in front of me; I took her hand, and I believe that I was actually on the point of drawing her down on my knees. She made no resistance; she glanced anxiously about, but had not the strength to go away from me. What imprudence! what was I doing? We were in full sight of passers-by, and someone might come in at any minute. She had nothing but her reputation, and I was about to besmirch it! Poor child! she would sacrifice it to me, in her dread of displeasing me.