"That's true," she answered; "I have a great regard for the poor lunatic fellow,--partly because I ought to have it, on account of his mother, and then for old acquaintance' sake, and also because I care for his fluting." "Fluting! does it really have such an effect upon you?" "There's nothing wrong in its effect, cousin. Why do you find fault with it?" "I don't; but--" "Come, say what you mean," she exclaimed, laughing; "for you are always chanting some sort of dirge about it, and I want to say amen to you once for all, so that I may hear the last of it." "Well then, Brulette," I replied, "we won't say another word about Joseph, but let us talk of ourselves. Why won't you see that I have a great love for you? and can't you tell me that you will return it one of these days?" "Oh! oh! are you talking seriously, this time?" "This time and all times. It has always been serious on my part, even when shyness made me pretend to joke about it." "Then," said Brulette, quickening her step with me that the others might not overhear us, "tell me how and why you love me; I'll answer you afterwards." I saw she wanted compliments and flattery, but my tongue was not very ready at that kind of thing. I did my best, however, and told her that ever since I came into the world I had never thought of any one but her; for she was the prettiest and sweetest of girls, and had captivated me even before she was twelve years old. I told nothing that she did not know already; indeed she said so, and owned she had seen it at the time we were catechised. But she added laughing:-- "Now explain why you have not died of grief, for I have always put you down; and tell me also why you are such a fine-grown, healthy fellow, if love, as you declare, has withered you." "That's not talking seriously, as you promised me," I said. "Yes, it is," she replied; "I am serious, for I shall never choose any one who can't swear that he has never in his life fancied, or loved, or desired any girl but me." "Then it is all right, Brulette," I cried. "If that's so, I fear nobody, not even that José of yours, who, I will allow, never looked at a girl in his life, for his eyes can't even see you, or he wouldn't go away and leave you." "Don't talk of Joseph; we agreed to let him alone," replied Brulette, rather sharply, "and as you boast of such very keen eyes, please confess that in spite of your love for me you have ogled more than one pretty girl. Now, don't tell fibs, for I hate lying. What were you saying so gayly to Sylvia only last year? And it isn't more than a couple of months since you danced two Sundays running, under my very nose, with that big Bonnina. Do you think I am blind, and that nobody comes and tells me things?" I was rather mortified at first; but then, encouraged by the thought that there was a spice of jealousy in Brulette, I answered, frankly,--