"I have been told so, monsieur." "You must have many men making love to you?" "Oh! there's some that try to fool me when they come to buy flowers of me; but I don't listen to 'em." "Why do you think that they are trying to fool you?" "Oh! because they're swells--like you." "So, if I should mention the word _love_ to you, you would think----" "That you was making fun of me. Pardi! that's plain enough!" That beginning was not of good augury. No matter, I continued the attack, moving gradually nearer the girl. "I swear to you, Nicette, that I never make fun of anyone!" "All men say that!" "Besides, you are quite pretty enough to arouse a genuine passion." "Yes, a passion of a fortnight! Oh! I ain't to be caught in that trap." "On my honor, you are too pretty for a flower girl." "Bah! you are joking." "If you chose, Nicette, you could find something better to do than that." "No, monsieur, no; I don't want to sell anything but bouquets. Oh! I ain't vain. I refused Beauvisage, who's got money, and who'd have given me calico dresses, caps _à la glaneuse_, and gilt chains; but all those things didn't tempt me. When I don't like a person, nothing can make me change my mind." She was not covetous; so that it was necessary to win her regard in order to obtain anything from her. I determined to win her regard. But I have this disadvantage when I try to make myself agreeable: I never know what I am saying; that was why I sat for ten minutes without speaking a word to Nicette, contenting myself with frequent profound sighs and an occasional cough, to revive the conversation. But Nicette was very innocent, or perhaps she meant to laugh at me when she said with great sang-froid: "Have you got a bad cold, monsieur?" I blushed at my idiocy; the idea of being so doltish and timid with a flower seller! Really, I hardly recognized myself. And the better to recognize myself, I put my arms about Nicette and tried to draw her into my lap. "Let go of me, monsieur; let go, I beg you!" "Why, what harm are we doing, Nicette?" "I don't want you to squeeze me so tight." "One kiss, and I'll let you go." "Just one, all right." Her consent was necessary, for she was very well able to defend herself; she was strong and could make a skilful use of her hands and knees; and as I was not accustomed to contests of that sort, in which our society ladies give us little practice, I began to think that I should find it difficult to triumph over the girl. She gave me permission to kiss her, and I made the most of it; trusting in my promise, she allowed me to take that coveted kiss, and offered me her fresh, rosy cheek, still graced with the down of youth and innocence.