knew perfectly well, by Jove, that it was not the same thing at all,
as everybody in the neighborhood called me, _Handsome Labarbe_. I was
thirty years old in those days, but I asked her: "And why, pray?" She
shrugged her shoulders, and replied: "Well! because you are not so
stupid as he is." And then she added, looking at me shyly: "Nor so ugly,
either." And before she could make a movement to avoid me, I had
implanted a hearty kiss on her cheek. She sprang aside, but it was too
late, and then she said: "Well, you are not very bashful, either! But
don't do that sort of thing again."

I put on a humble look and said in a low voice: "Oh! Mademoiselle, as
for me, if I long for one thing more than another, it is to be summoned
before a magistrate for the same reason as Morin."

"Why?" she asked. And looking steadily at her, I replied: "Because you
are one of the most beautiful creatures living; because it would be an
honor and a glory for me to have wished to offer you violence, and
because people would have said, after seeing you: Well, Labarbe has
richly deserved what he has got, but he is a lucky fellow, all the
same."

She began to laugh heartily again, and said: "How funny you are!" And
she had not finished the word _funny_, before I had her in my arms, and
was kissing her ardently wherever I could find a place, on her forehead,
on her eyes, on her lips occasionally, on her cheeks, all over her
head, some part of which she was obliged to leave exposed, in spite of
herself, to defend others, but at last she managed to release herself,
blushing and angry. "You are very unmannerly, Monsieur," she said, "and
I am sorry I listened to you."

I took her hand in some confusion, and stammered out: "I beg your
pardon. I beg your pardon, Mademoiselle. I have offended you; I have
acted like a brute! Do not be angry with me for what I have done. If you
knew ..." I vainly sought for some excuse, and in a few moments she
said: "There is nothing for me to know, Monsieur." But I had found
something to say, and I cried: "Mademoiselle, I love you!"

She was really surprised, and raised her eyes to look at me, and I went
on: "Yes, Mademoiselle, and pray listen to me. I do not know Morin, and
I do not care anything about him. It does not matter to me the least if
he is committed for trial and locked up meanwhile. I saw you here last
year, and I was so taken with you, that the thought of you has never
left me since, and it does not m