“That is very possible! I never thought that Madame Boutillon could not be beaten.--Where does your lovely flower girl stand?” “Over yonder, opposite us--that booth where there is no one just now. She has probably gone to carry a bouquet somewhere.” “How goes your love-affair? have you triumphed?” “I have not triumphed yet----” “So your flower girl is a model of virtue, an untamed beauty, is she?” “A model of virtue! Oh! I thought so for a long while. When I found how cruel she was, I fancied that Violette--that is her name--I fancied that Violette was virtuous; but I was mistaken; I was a blockhead; the flower girl is not cruel with everybody, I have a proof of it. She does her work on the sly!” Georget, who had not lost a word of the conversation between the two young men, sprang to his feet like a flash, and planting himself in front of Astianax, said to him, glaring at him with eyes inflamed by wrath: “You lie! you insult Violette! just because she refuses to listen to you! But you are nothing but a slanderer, do you hear?” Little Glumeau was thunderstruck; he rolled his eyes about in all directions, and utterly failed to understand that apostrophe which fell from the clouds upon him; but Chambourdin, who was perfectly calm, stepped between Astianax and Georget, and said to the latter: “Why do you put your oar in, my boy? Who spoke to you? Why do you presume to interfere in our conversation? Are you a spy, that you busy yourself listening to us? The deuce! you are beginning that trade very young!” “That’s so,” said Astianax, beginning to recover from his surprise; “what does this mean? whom is this little _voyou_, this blackguard, talking to?” “Oh! don’t insult me, monsieur, or I’ll punch your head; I am a messenger, a respectable young man!” “Once more,” retorted Chambourdin, “we don’t know you; why did you listen to what monsieur was saying to me?” “Why did you stop and talk right in front of me? I should have had to stuff my ears to keep from hearing. Still, I didn’t pay much attention to your words, until monsieur began to talk about Mademoiselle Violette the flower girl; then I listened with all my ears, it is true, because it interested me, because I know Mamzelle Violette, because I know that she’s an honest girl, who doesn’t listen to what men say to her, when they try to induce her to make a fool of herself; and you said that she wasn’t cruel to everybody, that she wasn’t virtuous, that she wasn’t a model of virtue! You lied, and I couldn’t listen to that without saying something, for I should have been a coward if I had heard you insult Violette without taking up her defence.” “It seems that this is another lover of the flower girl,” said Chambourdin, turning toward Astianax to laugh; but the latter had turned as red as a rooster, and he said to Georget: