The young bachelor allowed himself to be led to a chair. He seated himself, and the lovely child, standing before him, began to loosen the pins which held his cap and his big brown curls. Urbain allowed Blanche to take off his headdress. He had decided to make himself known, besides sooner or later she must know the truth, and in order not to frighten her it was better that the metamorphosis should be gently made. The last pin was taken out, Blanche lifted the cap and the young man's brown curls escaped on all sides and fell on his forehead and on his neck. The young girl uttered an exclamation and stopped. Urbain, fearing already that she was about to fly, lightly surrounded her waist with his two arms. [Illustration] "How funny that is," said Blanche, at last, looking at Urbain with astonishment. "Your hair isn't done at all like that of all the women I ever saw. Is it the fashion to wear it like that in Verberie?" "Yes, mademoiselle." "Do you know, Ursule, that the more I look at you the more you look like a man to me." "Somebody told me that before, mademoiselle." "But it's really astonishing. Your hair is dressed exactly like that of the men I see passing in the street." "Do you dislike it so?" "No--however--it produces a very singular effect on me." "If I were a man would you be angry?" "Mercy, yes, I believe I should, for then you couldn't be my friend any more. I couldn't love you as a sister." "But Blanche, if I were a man I should be your lover. A most tender, a most faithful lover. I could love you to distraction, and love is much stronger than friendship. Then, if you will share my affection, could there exist a mortal happier than I? Dear Blanche, if I could only possess your heart. Is there anything more precious on earth? To obtain it, I would give the last drop of my blood." While speaking Urbain, engrossed by his love, no longer sought to disguise his voice. His arms still surrounded Blanche and the young girl, greatly moved, dropped on the knees of the young bachelor, saying in a feeble voice,-- "Mon Dieu, Ursule, don't say such things to me. They make me uneasy. I don't know what's the matter with me. I feel that I wish to cry. What use is it to tell such falsehoods, to speak of love and of loving? Ursule, somebody has told me that it is very wrong to talk about those things. O heavens! since you haven't your cap on, I dare not look at you." "Blanche! dear Blanche!" "Well now, you're still pretending to be a man, and it frightens me. Come, Ursule, be a woman again, I beg of you." "No, Blanche, I will not deceive you further. It is a man--it's--the most tender lover who is near you." By a sudden movement Blanche rose and escaped to the other end of the room; Urbain did not seek to restrain her, but fell on his knees and held out his hands towards her, seeming to await her forgiveness, while the young girl looked at him with eyes which expressed more surprise than fear.