"What? are you really a man?" said the amiable child, after a moment. "Yes, mademoiselle." "Are you quite sure of it?" "Oh, yes." "O good heavens! don't come near me, I beg of you." "Ah, don't tremble so, I am at your feet, the most submissive of lovers." "Of lovers! I don't know what a lover is." "It was that I might be successful in seeing you, that I might make known to you all the love that I feel for you, that I have dared to take this disguise. Without that how should I have managed to see you when they keep you in prison in this room?" "I never go out of it. I should not listen to you perhaps. How did you come to love me?" "It was through the window that I first saw you. Some singers were standing under the casement. You seemed to listen to them with great pleasure. That night I returned and sang under your window the romance which you like so much." "That was you?" cried Blanche, joyfully; and already forgetting her first fear she looked at Urbain with more assurance. Her pure and innocent mind could not conceive all the danger of her situation. A more experienced young girl would have cried and have shown much anger, but Blanche, whose soul was a stranger to all dissimulation evinced the same confidence in the young bachelor as she did in Ursule, because she had no other thought which could make her blush. "Why! was that you?" she repeated, "It isn't astonishing that I found such a resemblance in your voice, but it wasn't good of you, monsieur, to lie to us like that. I was quite sure that you were Ursule and I loved you like a dear friend, and can I continue to love you like that now?" "And what should prevent you, if I have not displeased you?" "Oh, no! you haven't displeased me. I even think that you look better without a cap, but it's not allowable to love a man." "Why not, when that man wishes to become your husband?" "Marguerite says that all men are deceivers and then, O heavens! the devil also takes the form of a man, and presented himself thus to the sorcerer of Verberie. O mon Dieu, if you should be the devil!" "O Blanche, what a thought!" "But no, you look too sweet--you're not all black, and you haven't any claws." "My name is Urbain Dorgeville. My parents were honest and respected. I am an orphan. I haven't much fortune, but when one loves truly is it necessary to have much in order to be happy? Dear Blanche, will you forgive me?" "He calls me his dear Blanche, how funny that is! And if I don't forgive you, what will happen?" "You will reduce me to despair and nothing will remain for me but to die." "Oh, I don't wish that you should die," cried the amiable child, "and I will forgive you, for I should be very vexed if I caused you any grief."