him assistance, it is likely he shall be carried to his grave in a couple of days. ” “Bless me! ” said I, “I would be very sorry for that; but what assistance does he require of me? ” “My child, ” said she, “he requests only the happiness of seeing and conversing with you. Your eyes alone can prevent his ruin, and cure the disease they have caused. ” “Oh! gladly, ” said I; “and, since it is so, he may come to see me here as often as he likes.’’

Arnolphe(aside). O cursed witch! poisoner of souls! may hell reward your charitable tricks!

Agnès. That is how he came to see me, and got cured. Now tell me, frankly, if I was not right? And could I, after all, have the conscience to let him die for lack of aid?—I, who feel so much pity for suffering people, and cannot see a chicken die without weeping!

Arnolphe(aside). All this comes only from an innocent soul; I blame my imprudent absence for it, which left this kindliness of heart without a protector, exposed to the wiles of artful seducers. I fear that the rascal, in his bold passion, has carried the matter somewhat beyond a joke.

Agnès. What ails you? I think you are a little angry. Was there anything wrong in what I have told you?

Arnolphe. No. But tell me what followed, and how the young man behaved during his visits.

Agnès. Alas! if you but knew how delightful he was; how he got rid of his illness as soon as I saw him, the present he made me of a lovely casket, and the money which Alain and Georgette have had from him, you would no doubt love him, and say, as we say…

Arnolphe. Yes. But what did he do when he was alone with you?

Agnès. He swore that he loved me with an unequalled passion, and said the prettiest words possible, things that nothing ever can equal, the sweetness of which charms me whenever I hear him speak, and moves I know not what within me.

Arnolphe(aside). Oh! sad inquiry into a fatal mystery, in which the inquirer alone suffers all the pain. (Aloud.) Besides all these speeches, all these pretty compliments, did he not also bestow a few caresses on you?

Agnès. Oh, so many! He took my hands and my arms, and was never tired of kissing them.

Arnolphe. Agnès, did he take nothing else from you? (Seeing her confused.) Ugh!

Agnès. Why, he…

Arnolphe. What?

Agnès. Took…

Arnolphe. Ugh!

Agnès. The…

Arnolphe. Well?

Agnès. I dare not tell you; you will perhaps be angry with me.

Arnolphe. No.

Agnès. Yes, but you will.

Arnolphe. Good Heavens! no.