It was ten o'clock in the morning, and Chicotin had just left Roncherolle, who was living in his new lodgings on Rue de Crussol, and, feeling that his left foot was not yet in condition to descend the five flights, had again employed his regular messenger to carry a bouquet to Madame de Grangeville and to inquire for her health. But as the unfortunate victim of the gout saw his resources diminish every day, he had told Chicotin to buy a bouquet for one franc instead of three. The ci-devant lady-killer was still gallant; but his fortune no longer permitted him to be gallant in the same measure as of yore. Chicotin walked along Boulevard du Chateau d'Eau, with his franc in his hand; and as it was not flower market day, there were very few dealers in evidence; and the flower girls who were in their places had very few violets, which doubtless were also scarce at that moment. The pretty flower girl who bore the name of that flower was the only one supplied with them; she had some large and fine bunches. "_Sapristi!_" said Chicotin to himself, as he turned over some miserable little bunches at two sous which another flower girl offered him; "this isn't what I want; I can't carry such things as these to the lady on Rue Fontaine-Saint-Georges; for when one buys only one kind of flower for a franc, one ought to get a fine bunch." "You think so, do you, sonny? Perhaps you don't know that violets are out of season just now. See, I will tie these four little bunches that I have left all together and they will make a very pretty bouquet." "Not much! I don't want 'em; your bunches are all withered; they look as if they had been used before." "What a stupid little animal!" Chicotin walked away from her, saying to himself: "It's no use for me to look, there's only one flower girl who has any real good bunches of what I am looking for, and that's Violette; but I have sworn not to buy anything of her since I knew that she deceived poor Georget. However, I must do my errand, and I don't know whether I shall find violets anywhere else. After all, you buy of a person and pay her and that's the end of it; that don't make you friends; and then, she don't ask so much as the others; I'll go to her." So Chicotin walked to the girl's booth and examined her bouquets. "Ah! is it you, Chicotin?" cried Violette, as she recognized Georget's friend. "It's a long time since I've seen you; it's a strange thing how all my old acqaintances have gone away, I don't know where. Have you done like your friend Georget? Have you stopped standing on the boulevard?" "How much do you ask for this bunch, mamzelle?" "I say, Chicotin, do you ever see your friend Georget? for of course he must come to Paris from time to time." "This big bunch of violets, mamzelle, I ask you how much it is." "And I ask you if you ever see Georget? It seems to me you might answer me."