“And where will you go?”
“To my sister's.”
“Your sister-and where does she live?”
“No. 4 Rue Chaptal.”
“Your sister lives in the Rue Chaptal?”
“Yes, on the first floor. She has two rooms and will lend me one.”
“And tell me, what is your sister doing in the Rue Chaptal?”
“She works for milliners' shops. Monsieur Ernest helps her.”
“Is she older than you?”
“Yes, two years older.”
“What is her name?”
“Marguerite.”
“And what is yours?”
“Violette.”
“It seems that in your family they were partial to the names of flowers.”
“Oh yes, Mamma did like them so!”
“Is your mamma no more?”
“No, Monsieur.”
“What was her name?”
“Rose.”
“Well, they did like the names of flowers! And your father?”
“Oh, he is quite well.”
“And what is his trade?”
“He is a keeper at the gates of Lille.”
“What is his name?”
“Rouchat.”
“But I perceive that I have been asking you questions for an hour, and I have not enquired of you why Monsieur Beruchet frightened you so?”
“Because he always tried to kiss me.”
“You don't say so!”
“He followed me everywhere, and I never dared to go without a light into the back shop, because I was always sure of finding him there.”
“Then you did not like him to kiss you?”
“Oh, not at all!”
“And why were you displeased so?”
“Because he is so ugly, and then I thought he did not only want to kiss me.”
“But what did he want else?”
“I don't know.”
I looked at her to see whether she wasn't making fun of me. But I perceived from her innocent look, that she was perfectly in earnest.
“Well, then, what did he do, besides kissing you?”
“He came up to my room yesterday when I was in bed; at least I think it was he, and he tried to open my door.”
“Did he say anything?”
“No, but during the day, he said: 'Do not shut your door as you did yesterday, little one, I have something of importance to tell you.'“
“And you locked your door all the same.”
“Oh, yes I did. More securely than ever.”
“Did he come?”
“Yes, he did come. He tried all he could to open the door. He tapped and tapped; then he knocked louder. Then he said 'It is I, little Violette'. You may well imagine that I gave no reply. I was shaking with fright in my bed. The more he said, 'It is I', the more he called me darling Violette, the more I put my blanket over my head. At last after waiting at least half an hour, he went away grumbling.”
“All day he looked sulky so that I was in hopes he would leave me alone tonight. I was half undressed, as you see me, when I thought of bolting the door. But the bolt had been taken off during the day and there was no lock there; so, without losing a moment I ran off and knocked at your door. Oh! how lucky I did so!” And the child threw her arms around my neck.
“So you're not frightened of me?”
“Oh, no!”
“And if I wished to kiss you, would you run away?”
“See now,” said she, and she applied her humid and fresh mouth to my parched lips.
I could not help keeping my lips on hers for a few seconds while I caressed her teeth with the tip of my tongue. She closed her eyes and leaned her head backwards, saying: “Oh, how nice, is that kind of kiss!”
“You've never been kissed that way?” I inquired.
“No,” she said, passing her tongue over her burning lips. “Is it the usual way?”
“Yes, when you love the person.”
“Then, you do love me?”
“If I am not yet in love with you I am afraid I soon shall be.”
“Just like me!”
“So much the better!”
“And what do people do who love one another?”
“They exchange kisses as we just have done.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that is funny. It seemed to me I wished for something else; as if this kiss, however sweet it may be, were only the beginning of love.”
“What did you feel?”
“I cannot say; a kind of languid sensation in all my body. A pleasure such as I have experienced sometimes in dreams.”
“And when you awoke after these dreams, how did you feel?”
“I was quite exhausted.”
“Did you never have that sensation except in a dream?”
“Yes, indeed, just now, when you kissed me.”
“Am I then the first man who ever kissed you?”
“In that way, you are. My father often kissed me, but it was not at all the same thing.”
“Then you are still a virgin?”
“Virgin, what does that mean?”
Evidently, from her tone she was sincere!”
I took pity, or rather I felt respect for that innocence which then put itself so entirely at my mercy. It seemed as if it were a crime to rob her of that sweet treasure, which she unconsciously possessed, and which, when once given away, is lost forever.
“And now let us talk seriously, my dear girl,” I said, releasing her from my embrace.
“Oh, you are not going to send me away, surely?”
“No, I am too happy to have you here.” Then, after a pause: “Listen,” I said, “this is what we are going to do. We will go and fetch your clothes.”
“Very well, and where shall I go?”
“That's my business. First of all let us go to your room.”
“And Monsieur Beruchet?”
“It is probable that he has left, for it is nearly three o'clock in the morning.”
