and my heart beating. But in a few moments, I thought of an answer: "Of
course, I shall say that I am looking for Rivet's room, to speak to him
about an important matter, and I began to inspect all the doors, trying
to find hers, and at last I took hold of a handle at a venture, turned
it and went in ... there was Henriette, sitting on her bed and looking
at me in tears. So I gently turned the key, and going up to her on
tip-toe, I said: "I forgot to ask you for something to read,
Mademoiselle." She struggled and resisted, but I soon opened the book I
was looking for. I will not tell you its title, but it is the most
wonderful of romances, the most divine of poems. And when once I had
turned the first page, she let me turn over as many leaves as I liked,
and I got through so many chapters that our candles were quite burnt
out. Then, after thanking her, I was stealthily returning to my room,
when a rough hand seized me, and a voice, it was Rivet's, whispered in
my ear: 'So you have not yet quite settled that affair of Morin's?'"

At seven o'clock the next morning, she herself brought me a cup of
chocolate. I have never drunk anything like it, soft, velvety,
perfumed, delicious. I could scarcely take my lips away from the cup,
and she had hardly left the room when Rivet came in. He seemed nervous
and irritable, like a man who had not slept, and he said to me crossly:
"If you go on like this, you will end by spoiling the affair of _that
pig of a Morin_!"

At eight o'clock the aunt arrived. Our discussion was very short, for
they withdrew their complaint, and I left five hundred francs for the
poor of the town. They wanted to keep us for the day, and they arranged
an excursion to go and see some ruins. Henriette made signs to me to
stay, behind her parents' back, and I accepted, but Rivet was determined
to go, and though I took him aside, and begged and prayed him to do this