French fiction -- Translations into English; Paris (France) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"If I should not succeed in pleasing her!" However, the remembrance of
the evening before gave him courage, and he took his way to the barber's
house. He trembled as he knocked at the door, although the fear of being
sent away did not present itself to his mind. The sound of the knocker
went to Blanche's heart, and she jumped from her chair, exclaiming,--
"It's he!" and was about to run to the street door when Marguerite
stopped her, saying,--
"How now, my child, what are you going to do? It would not be decent for
you to go and open the door for this young man."
"Do you think so, nurse. Very well; go then, Marguerite; go quickly."
Marguerite hurried as fast as she could, she was anxious to see the
young man. She opened the door to Urbain and looked at him attentively;
his gentle and diffident appearance made a favorable impression on the
old woman.
"It's singular--he appears to be more embarrassed as a boy than as a
girl. Come in, come in, my handsome young spark; come in. Now we shall
see if you've any more stories to relate of the adventures of your aunts
and cousins."
"Yes, my good Marguerite," said Urbain, "I shall continue to tell them
to you if they give you pleasure."
"He wishes to please me," said Marguerite to herself. "Yes, Blanche was
right, the young man is very charming."
The embarrassment of these two young lovers was a very singular thing,
inasmuch as they had in their first interview spoken so freely of their
love, and were already engaged and certain of being married. Blanche,
who had at first wished to run to the door, now dared not raise her
eyes, and, on hearing Urbain's step, remained motionless on her chair.
The latter, on entering this room where he had been every evening for a
fortnight, experienced an uneasiness, a new embarrassment, and paused
near the door, holding his hat in his hand, and glancing timidly at
Blanche.
"Well," said Marguerite, "here's one who dares go no farther at present.
Come, master boy, when you were a girl you didn't thus remain standing
motionless and mute at the door; and my poor Blanche, who is afraid to
raise her eyes and is trembling like a leaf. My darling, it isn't
necessary to blush like that when one has done nothing wrong. You see, I
am obliged to encourage you."
However, Urbain gently approached Blanche, bent his knees to the floor
and murmured,--
"If you no longer feel friendly to me, if this costume has made you lose
confidence in me--I will resume that of Ursule."
The sweet girl timidly raised her head, and bending on Urbain a look of
the tenderest love, she said, blushing deeper than before,--
"Oh, it isn't that. Excuse me, I don't know what is the matter with me."
She turned her head to hide her face in Marguerite's bosom, and said in
a low tone to the latter,--
"Dear nurse, is it love that makes me feel so shy?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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