But Louise was beginning to be disturbed; it seemed to her that the gentleman who came every day to keep her company, no longer addressed her with the same respect or kept so far away from her; she considered that he gazed at her too often and too long; and she had observed some things in Madame Ratouille’s manners and speech which materially diminished her confidence in that woman. On the sixth day, when they left the house, where they had remained later than usual, Poterne, surprised to find that affairs were still at the same point, said to his companion: “I say! what’s your plan? When shall you see the young marquis? What fairy tale do you propose to tell him on the subject of the girl?” Daréna puffed himself up and replied in a fatuous tone: “I have changed my mind! This girl is decidedly too pretty to turn over to another man; she pleases me. I had forgotten what love was, and she has revived that sentiment in my dilapidated heart! Louise shall be my mistress; and then, later, when I am tired of her, we will see.” “That’s a fine idea!” cried Poterne. “Is that the way you hope to earn money? Fall in love--you! why it’s pitiful! just because you have a few gold pieces in hand, and because you have been lucky at play these last few days. But it will soon be spent; and if you miss this opportunity----” “Poterne, if you don’t stop annoying me, I’ll break this stick over your back! I mean to possess that child; perhaps it is only a whim, but it suits me to gratify it. She’s a little jewel, is this Louise, not a false one, like the one you sold to Chérubin. To-morrow, you will order a delectable repast, with wines which you will be kind enough not to purchase at La Courtille; you will order it sent to my villa near Barrière de la Chopinette; I will dine with Louise, and I will sleep there. As to you, if Madame Ratouille tempts you, I turn her over to you.” “Sapristi! I should prefer five years at Toulon!” “You heard me, Poterne: a dainty feast at the little house to-morrow.” “And you think that this young Louise will consent to----” “Why not, when I have induced her to drink a few glasses of champagne? And if she doesn’t consent, why, I will do without her permission. For six days now I have been darting burning glances at her, and if she hasn’t understood them, so much the worse for her! it isn’t my fault, and I have no desire to take it out in sighs.” “Well,” thought Poterne, as he followed Daréna, “he has taken it into his head, and anything that I could say would do no good.”