Nicole covered Louise with kisses. “If by any chance you should get sick of it, my child,” she said, “if you ain’t happy there, you know that there’s always a place for you here, and that we’ll be very happy if you conclude to come back.” Monsieur Gérondif speedily put an end to these farewells by taking the girl’s arm. Jacquinot was at the wine-shop as usual. Louise cast a last glance at her adopted mother and went away with Monsieur Gérondif, who had incurred the expense of a cab by the hour, in order to take the girl to Paris more quickly. On the way he said to her: “I must give you some preliminary instructions, my lovely child, as to your behavior in the place you are to fill. In the first place, if they ask you what you know how to do, answer boldly: ‘everything!’” “Everything! But that would not be true, monsieur, for I know how to do very few things.” “You can learn the others; you are saturated with intelligence, therefore you will learn very rapidly; so that it’s the same as if you already knew. Do what I tell you--it is essential, to inspire confidence; in the world you must never act as if you were uncertain of yourself. Secondly, you must understand that you must not speak of the young Marquis Chérubin and say that you were brought up with him. The world is very unkind! people might think things; and you mustn’t trifle with your reputation.” “What, monsieur? What could people think, pray? Is it wrong to love one’s foster-brother, then?” “Foster-brother! foster-brother! as much as you please! I must make you understand me better: my noble pupil does not want it to be known now that he remained out at nurse until he was sixteen; that annoys him terribly. And then you must see that a marquis can’t be the friend of a--a--a lady’s maid; if you should talk about him, it might make him blush.” “Blush!” cried Louise, putting her handkerchief to her eyes. “What! monsieur le--Chérubin blush because of my friendship, my acquaintance? Oh! never fear, monsieur; I shall never speak of him, I shall never mention his name.” “That is very well, _O flavia_!--No, you are not a blonde.--Come, come! don’t weep any more about that; what I say doesn’t prevent the marquis from still being interested in you, and myself as well. I will say no more now, young Louise, but be virtuous and prudent; do not joke with the young men; if anyone should presume to take any equivocal liberty with you, scratch the insolent knave’s face; for you must keep yourself free from stain, like the Paschal Lamb, until--But, mum’s the word! I will go no farther now.” Louise had ceased to listen; she was thinking of Chérubin, who was ashamed of knowing her; and that idea destroyed all the pleasure she had enjoyed in the fact of going to Paris. Meanwhile, the cab had entered the city; Monsieur Gérondif told the driver to take them to Faubourg Saint-Honoré, whereupon Louise exclaimed: “Is it near Monsieur Chérubin’s house?”