She seated herself at the table; I placed a chair close beside hers, put my right arm about her, and guided her hand with mine; my face touched her hair; her whole body was against mine; I inhaled her sweet breath, and I could count the beating of her heart. Ah! what pleasure that lesson afforded me! Unconsciously, without premeditation, I made her write _I love you_ again and again. My hand trembled as violently as the hand I was guiding. But a tear fell from her eyes. The pen dropped from our hands. I have no idea how it happened; but Nicette's pretty face was hidden against my breast, her two arms were about me, and mine pressed her fondly to my heart. At that moment I felt that even if Madame de Marsan, or any other woman, were present, I would not put Nicette's arms away. We had been a long while in that position and did not think of changing it. Nicette was happy, and I--I must confess it--enjoyed a pleasure that I had never known before, a pleasure of which I had no conception, undisturbed by any desire for which I need blush. But, engrossed as I was by the present, I could not answer for the future; another caress might kindle a conflagration. There came a loud knock at the door of the shop. Nicette started from my arms, and I looked at her with some disquietude. "Who can have come to see you so late? You told me that you had no acquaintances." "I don't know who it is; I don't expect anybody!" Her eyes reassured me; they could not lie! But the knocking was repeated, and we distinguished these words: "Open the door, open quick, Mamzelle Nicette! your mother's very sick and wants to see you." Nicette ran to the door and recognized the daughter of one of Madame Jérôme's neighbors. The girl told her that her mother had had an apoplectic attack as the result of a violent quarrel with her daughter Fanchon; and feeling very ill, she longed to see the child she had so unjustly turned out of doors. Nicette flew about the shop; in an instant she had taken off her apron and put on her cap. "Adieu, adieu, Monsieur Dorsan!" she said, in a trembling voice, and with eyes filled with tears; "my mother is sick and I must forget everything." We left the shop; she took the little girl's arm and dragged her away; the child could hardly keep pace with her. I soon lost sight of them. Sweet girl! she possessed all the virtues, and I loved her better than I thought, more dearly than I had ever loved. The most convincing proof that I really loved her was that I had thus far respected her innocence; but I felt that I must avoid going to see her at night; to be alone with her would be too dangerous. If it had not been for that knocking--I do not know what might have happened. I decided to return to Madame de Marsan, so as to turn my thoughts from Nicette; I must give my brain occupation, in order to allow my heart to become calmer. By that means I should at least provide myself with a pardonable motive for my new follies. XXIV