hom, therefore, he need pay no court? The
passion, observe, which is able to reflect, gives even to ninnies,
fools, and imbeciles a species of intelligence, especially in youth.
In the lowest human creature we find an animal instinct whose
persistency resembles thought.

The next day, Flore, who had been reflecting on her master's silence,
waited in expectation of some momentous communication; but although he
kept near her, and looked at her on the sly with passionate glances,
Jean-Jacques still found nothing to say. At last, when the dessert was
on the table, he recommenced the scene of the night before.

"You like your life here?" he said to Flore.

"Yes, Monsieur Jean."

"Well, stay here then."

"Thank you, Monsieur Jean."

This strange situation lasted three weeks. One night, when no sound
broke the stillness of the house, Flore, who chanced to wake up, heard
the regular breathing of human lungs outside her door, and was
frightened to discover Jean-Jacques, crouched like a dog on the
landing.

"He loves me," she thought; "but he will get the rheumatism if he
keeps up that sort of thing."

The next day Flore looked at her master with a certain expression.
This mute almost instinctive love had touched her; she no longer
thought the poor ninny so ugly, though his forehead was crowned with
pimples resembling ulcers, the signs of a vitiated blood.

"You don't want to go back and live in the fields, do you?" said
Jean-Jacques when they were alone.

"Why do you ask me that?" she said, looking at him.

"To know--" replied Rouget, turning the color of a boiled lobster.

"Do you wish to send me back?" she asked.

"No, mademoiselle."

"Well, what is it you want to know? You have some reason--"

"Yes, I want to know--"

"What?" said Flore.

"You won't tell me?" exclaimed Rouget.

"Yes I will, on my honor--"

"Ah! that's it," returned Rouget, with a frightened air. "Are you an
honest girl?"

"I'll take my oath--"

"Are you, truly?"

"Don't you hear me tell you so?"

"Come; are you the same as you were when your uncle brought you here
barefooted?"

"A fine question, faith!" cried Flore, blushing.

The heir lowered his head and did not raise it again. Flore, amazed at
such an encouraging sign from a man who had been overcome by a fear of
that nature, left the room.

Three days later, at the same hour (for both seemed to regard the
dessert as a field of battle), Flore spoke first, and said to he