“I might send you to the devil; but I am willing to answer you. I didn’t lie in what I said about the flower girl. No, I didn’t lie, I said nothing that I’m not sure of. No, Mademoiselle Violette isn’t virtuous; for girls who mean to remain virtuous aren’t in the habit of calling on young men who live all alone.” “Do you mean to say that Violette has been to your house?” “No, not to mine! but to the rooms of a young man who lives on the same landing that I do,--his door is just opposite mine.--I say, Monsieur Chambourdin, it’s Monsieur Jéricourt the author, who came to our party at Nogent with a friend of his, who was dressed so nicely----” “That he looked like a tailor’s manikin.--Oh! I remember those two gentlemen perfectly!” Georget, who had turned pale at the mention of Jéricourt’s name, said to Astianax: “I too know the gentleman you speak of; I have seen him often enough come here and play the gallant with Mamzelle Violette; but she has never listened to him, and it was he who lied when he told you that she had been to his room.” “He didn’t need to tell me anything, because I saw,--do you hear?--because I saw the pretty flower girl come out of his room.” “No, no! you made a mistake; it wasn’t her, it couldn’t have been!” “I couldn’t have made a mistake, for I know her perfectly well, and she passed close to me.” “It wasn’t her, I say.” “Ah! this is too much! What if I should tell her so when she returns, in your presence--then would you believe me, young messenger?” “You would dare to tell her that--her?” “Why should I hesitate, as it’s the truth?” Georget seemed completely upset, he was pale and agitated, and did not know what to think. “Come, come, my poor boy,” said Chambourdin, “I see that you too are daft over this flower girl, who is very fascinating, it seems; but after all, perhaps it’s a great service that my young friend does you, by opening your eyes with respect to this girl. You credit her with all the virtues, because you are in love with her; that is easily understood, you are so young! but that is a common thing; oh! these women! they are very fragile! When five years more have passed over your head, I should like to hear what you say about them.” Georget said nothing more, but Astianax exclaimed: “The flower girl has returned to her place, and I am going to talk with her. Monsieur Chambourdin, come in that direction, as if by accident, and bring this fellow who doesn’t choose to believe me; in a moment you will know if I have said anything other than the truth.” “I have no objection,” said Chambourdin; “indeed I ask nothing better than to approach the flower girl; she is enchanting, and I believe that I am falling in love with her too!”