Part 59 (1/2)
”We will treat ourselves to a good dinner au boulevard. You have been my best friend----”
”Oh, Monsieur Jean!”
”Are my best friend,” he added. ”I really don't see how I could have gotten on without you.”
”Ah! Monsieur Jean!”
”You have saved me hundreds of francs,--you are such a good little manager!”
Nothing up to that moment had ever given Mlle. Fouchette half the pleasure bestowed with this praise. Mlle. Fouchette blushed. Jean saw this blush and laughed. It was so funny to see Mlle. Fouchette blush.
This made Mlle. Fouchette blush still deeper. In fact, it seemed as if all the warm blood that had been concealed in Mlle. Fouchette's system so long had taken an upward tendency and now disported itself about her neck and face.
Jean would have kissed her, only she repulsed him angrily; then, seeing his surprise and confusion, she covered her face with her hands and laughed hysterically.
”Mademoiselle----”
”Stop, stop, stop! I knew what you were going to say! It was money again!”
”Really, mademoiselle----”
”It was! You did! You know you did! And you know how I hate it! Don't you dare to offer me money, because I love----” Mlle. Fouchette choked here a little,--”because I love to help you, Monsieur Jean!”
”But I was not thinking of offering you money for your kindness, mon enfant.” Jean took this play for safety as genuine wrath.
”You were going to; you know you were!” she retorted, defiantly.
”Well, I suppose I may offer to repay the louis I borrowed the other day?”
”Oh, yes! I'll make you pay your debts, monsieur,--never fear that!”
She began to recover her equilibrium, and smiled confidently in his face. But he was now serious.
”There are some debts one can never pay,” said he.
”Never! never! never!” she exclaimed. ”Monsieur, whatever I might do, I owe you still! It will always be so!”
”Uh! Uh! That's barred, pet.i.te.”
He stopped walking up and down and looked into her earnest eyes without grasping her meaning. ”She is more feminine than one would suppose,” he said to himself,--”almost interesting, really!”
”Come!” he cried, suddenly, ”this is straying from the subject, which is dinner. Come!”
”We'd have to do some marketing, anyhow,” she admitted, as if arguing with herself. ”Perhaps it is better to go out.”
”Most a.s.suredly.”
”Not at any fas.h.i.+onable place, Monsieur Jean----”
”Oh, no; is there any such place in the quarter?” he laughingly asked.
”Can't we go over on the other side?”