"What next?" I asked.

"Monsieur Ernest then said that if my mind was made up, as two or three years must elapse before I made my debut, I must let my father know of the plan."

"'And during these two or three years, how will she live?' asked Marguerite.

"'What a question to ask!' replied Monsieur Ernest. 'She is pretty and a pretty girl need not want for anything. From fifteen to eighteen she will find a protector. Besides she eats no more than a little bird. What does she require? A nest and a little seed.' "

I shrugged my shoulders while casting a glance at the poor little creature nestling in my arms as in a cradle.

"Then," resumed Violette, "the next day they wrote to Papa."

"And what did Papa reply?"

"He replied: 'You are two poor orphans thrown upon the world without any other protector than an old man of sixty-seven who may at any moment be taken away from you. Therefore, do the best you can, but never do anything which would make the poor old soldier ashamed of you.'"

"Did you keep that letter?"

"Yes, I did."

"Where is it?"

"In the pocket of one of my gowns. Then I thought of you. I said: 'Since he gave me tickets for the play, he must be acquainted with the managers of theatres.' I always put it off till the next day. But the affair with Monsieur Beruchet decided it all. Will you do all you can to help me in studying for the stage?"

"I will indeed, I promise you."

"How good you are." And Violette threw her arms round my neck, and so doing laid bare the treasures of her bosom.

This time, I confess, I lost my head; my hand glided down her body and rested upon a spot covered with hair as soft and as fine as silk.

When Violette felt my hand her whole body seemed to vibrate; her head fell back, her mouth was half opened, while her eyes were nearly closed. And yet, I had hardly touched her.