"No, I thank you," said Urbain, raising his eyes on the amiable child, and immediately abasing them, for he feared that she would read in them all the love which consumed him and it seemed to him that the moment was very ill-chosen to make it known; besides, he was so happy near Blanche that he wished to prolong the time, and, thanks to his disguise, he could see the sweet girl practise her graces, her amiability, and learn her character much better than if he had appeared to her in his true form. Before a lover the frankest girl is always timid, embarrassed, reserved, while with a person of her own sex she expresses without constraint the feelings which she experiences. "And so you are looking for a place?" said Blanche, seating herself near Urbain. "Yes, mademoiselle." "Have you been long in Paris?" "A fortnight, mademoiselle." "And your parents?" "I have none, mademoiselle. I am an orphan." "Poor girl! that's like me, I am an orphan also, and if M. Touquet had not taken care of me I too should have had to go to work to earn my living." "You, mademoiselle," said Urbain ardently, but he restrained himself and finished in a low voice, "that would have been very unfortunate." "My dear Blanche," said Marguerite, "it was not that you might tell her your history, but that she might acquaint us with the secret she is keeping that she came here. Now, Ursule, speak my child!" Urbain sighed; he would much rather have listened to Blanche than have talked to Marguerite; but it was necessary to satisfy the old maid, he needed her; and it was by exciting her curiosity that he hoped often to see Blanche. He commenced his recital, disguising his voice, and while he spoke the beautiful child fixed her eyes on him, a favor which he owed to his costume, but which often made him lose the thread of his discourse. "You have doubtless heard tell of Jeanne Harviliers, so famous a century ago for her witcheries and sorceries." "No, never," said Marguerite, drawing her chair nearer and stretching her neck, because the word sorcery had already produced its electrical effect upon the old servant. "Tell us the history of this sorcery, my child, and try not to omit a single fact." "Jeanne Harviliers was born at Verberie in the year 1528. Her mother, they say, was a wicked woman, who dedicated her child to the devil as soon as she came into the world. "When Jeanne was twelve years old the devil presented himself to her in the guise of a black man, armed and booted." "Dear nurse," said Blanche, "can the devil then take any form he pleases?" "Yes, of course, I've told you so a hundred times; he changes as he wishes." "You've always said, dear nurse, that he shows himself as a black cat." "A cat or a man, what does it matter?" "I was only afraid of cats before, now I shall be afraid of men also." "Come, mademoiselle, if you interrupt this young girl like that we shall never know her story. Go on, my child!"