"Whatever it may be, does it not come from you? Your touching kindness,
does it not fill me with gratitude, and----"

Germain could not finish, but cast down his eyes.

"And with what?" asked Rigolette, blushing.

"And with--and with devotion," stammered Germain.

"Why not add respect at once, like at the end of a letter," said Rigolette
impatiently. "You deceive me; it was not that which you intended to say.
You stopped short."

"I assure you----"

"You assure me!--you assure me! I see you blush through the grating. Am I
not your little friend, your neighbor? Why do you conceal anything? Be
frank, then, with me; tell me all," added the grisette, timidly; for she
only waited for an avowal from Germain to tell him openly that she loved
him. An honest and generous love, which the misfortunes of Germain had
called into existence.

"I assure you," answered the prisoner, with a sigh, "that I conceal nothing
from you!"

"Fie, the false man!" cried Rigolette, stamping her foot. "Well, you see
this large cravat of white wool that I brought for you?" and she took it
from her basket. "To punish you for your dissimulation, you shall not have
it. I knit it for you. I said to myself, it must be so cold, so damp, in
those large prison yards, that at least he will be protected nicely with