"And now, my little girl," he proceeded to say at the close of the refrain, "since you are not jealous, give me some advice--some friendly advice. I am in love--desperately in love." "Is it possible!" "If she were a woman of the world I would not ask your advice, but--" "Well! Well! Am I, perchance, not a woman? and of the world, too?" "Of all the world, not true, my dear?" "Naturally, seeing I'm here--which is little to your credit, my dear, and less creditable to me. But that matters not. Proceed, and don't be rude again--if you can avoid it." "Oh! The little one gives me a lesson in politeness!" "You want my advice; you see I can give you lessons. Proceed, what have you to say?" "You must know I am in love with a shop-girl, that is to say, her father and mother keep a shop. You surely know the ways of such folks, their customs and habits. What means would you advise me to employ in order to succeed?" "Make yourself beloved." "That takes too long. When a violent fancy seizes me, I find it impossible to wait." "Indeed! 'Tis wonderful, but, darling, you interest me greatly. Let's see. First of all is the shop-girl poor? Is she in great want? Does she seem very hungry?" "How? Whether she is hungry? What the devil do you mean?" "Colonel, I can not deny your personal attractions--you're handsome, you're brilliant, you're charming, you're adorable, you're delicious--" "Irony?" "What do you think! Would I dare to? Well, as I was saying, you're delicious! But, in order for the poor girl to appreciate you duly, she must first be dying of hunger. You have no idea how hunger--helps to find people adorable." Whereupon Pradeline sailed in to improvise a new ditty, not, this time, in merry vein, but with marked bitterness, and keeping time with such a slow measure that her favorite tune sounded melancholic: "You're hungry and you weep, Come, maid, and fall asleep; Come, you'll have plenty of gold, Thyself to me be sold. La rifla-fla-fla-fla, la rifla--" "The devil take that song! This one is not at all jolly," remarked the Count of Plouernel, struck by the melancholic accents of the young girl, who, however, quickly resumed her reckless bearing and wonted cheerfulness. "I understand the allusion," he added; "but my pretty shop-girl is not hungry." "The next thing--is she coquettish? Does she love to be prinked? Does she like jewelry, or theaters? These are famous means to blast a poor girl." "I presume she likes all those things. But she has a father and mother, and they probably keep a close watch over her. In view of all this I had a plan--" "You? At last you have a plan of your own! And what is it?" "It is to make frequent and large purchases in that shop, even to loan them money at a pinch, because I know those small traders must ever be hard pushed for cash to pay their bills." "In other words, you believe they will be ready to sell you their daughter--for cash?"