I dropped her hand and moved away from her, looking toward the street. She understood me, and thanked me with her eyes. "So you were able to hire a shop, Nicette?" "Yes, monsieur; I've made a lot since I've been in this quarter. I am economical and spend very little; I am sure that I can get along all right. I don't think I did wrong, did I?" "No; I know that you are behaving as well as possible." "You know it?" "I have never doubted it. Your bouquets have shown me, moreover, what a grateful heart you have." "Oh! can I ever forget what you did for me?" "Haven't you made any acquaintances on this street?" "No, monsieur; I don't want to make any." "Aren't you bored, being all alone?" "How can I be bored? I always have something to think about?" "What do you do in the evening?" "I read, and I am learning to write." "Do you know how to write?" "A little; before long I shall know how to write well, I hope. There's an old gentleman who gives me lessons sometimes." "What need is there of your knowing any more than you do?" "That's true, monsieur; if you don't want me to, I won't learn any more." "Oh! I don't say that. Study, Nicette, since you enjoy it; you weren't born to sell flowers. But take my advice, and don't try to rise above the condition in which fate has placed you; it rarely succeeds." "Oh! I'm not trying to do anything of the sort, monsieur; I'd just like to be not quite so stupid as I used to be." "My dear girl, you may be ignorant, but you can't be stupid; you will always be charming; your natural wit does not need the resources of education to attract esteem, any more than your charms need the help of art to win admiration. Ah! Nicette, be always as you are now, as I first saw you! Do not change!" She listened to me in silence; her sweet glance approved all that I said; we understood each other so well! But impatient customers were already beginning to look at her flowers; I felt that I must go. I said adieu, but I continued to stand in front of her. It was impossible to take a kiss, I realized that; she divined my thought, and we both sighed. To part so coldly! Ah! if we had been in my room! I was certain that I had but to say the word, and she would come; but I refrained from saying it, for she would have been lost. I pressed her hand and fled. I felt that I must fly from her, in order not to adore her. XXI CONFIDENCE