would believe I was perfectly happy."
"Of course, of course they would."
"All the while I should only be so in appearance."
"Well, what does that signify? As long as people think you happy, what does it matter whether you are really so or not? Men neither require nor care for more than outward show."
"But your reputation might suffer."
Rigolette burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
"The reputation of a grisette!" said she. "Do you suppose that any person believes in such a phenomenon? Ah, if I had either father, mother, brother, or sister, for their sakes I should fear what people might say of me, and be anxious about the world's opinion; but I am alone in the world, and have no person to consider but myself, so, while I know myself to be free from blame or reproach, I care not for what any one may say of me, or think either."
"But still I should be very unhappy."
"What for?"
"To pass for being a happy as well as a lucky fellow, when, after the fashion of Papa Crétu's dinner, I should be expected to make a meal off a dry crust, while all the tempting dishes contained in a cookery-book were being read to me."
"Oh, nonsense! you will be quite contented to live as I describe. You will find me so grateful for every little act of kindness, so easily pleased, and so little troublesome, that I know you will say, 'Why, after all, I may as well spend my Sunday with her as with any one else.' If you have any time in the evening, and have no objection to come and sit with me, you can have the use of my fire and light. If it would not tire you to read aloud, you would amuse me by reading some nice novel or romance. Better do that than lose your money at cards or billiards; otherwise, if you are occupied at your office, or prefer going to a café, you can just bid me good night when you come in, if I happen still to be up; but should I have gone to bed, why then I will wish you good morning at an early hour next day, by tapping against your wainscot to awaken you. Why, M. Germain, my last fellow lodger, used to pass all his evenings with me in that manner, and never complained of their being dull. He read me all Walter Scott's novels in the course of the winter, which was really very amusing. Sometimes, when it chanced to be a wet Sunday, he would go and buy something at the pastry-cook's, and we used to have a nice little dinner in my room; and afterwards we amused ourselves with reading; and we liked that almost as well as going to the theatre. You see by this that I am not hard to please, but, on the contrary, am always ready to do what I can to make things pleasant and agreeable. And then you were talking about illness. Oh, if ever you should be ill, then, indeed, I should be a comfort to you, a real Sister of Charity! Only ask the Morels what sort of a nurse I am. You don't half know your own good fortune, M. Rodolph; you have drawn a real prize in the lottery of good luck to have me for a neighbour, I can assure you."
"I quite agree with you; but I always was lucky. Apropos of your late fellow lodger, M. Germain, where is he at present?"
"In Paris, I believe."
"Then you do not see much of him now?"
"No, he has never been to see me since he quitted the house."
"But where is he living? And what is he doing at present?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Because," said Rodolph, smiling, "I am jealous of him, and I wish – "
"Jealous!" exclaimed Rigolette, bursting into a fit of laughter. "La, bless you, there is no occasion for that, poor fellow!"
"But, seriously, my good neighbour, I wish most particularly to obtain M. Germain's address, or to be enabled to meet him. You know where he lives; and without any boast, I think I have good reason to expect you would trust me with the secret of his residence, and to believe me quite incapable of revealing again the information I ask of you, assuring you most solemnly it is for his own interest more than mine I am solicitous of finding him."
"And seriously, my good neighbour, although it is probable and possible your intentions towards M. Germain are as you report them, I am not at liberty to give you the address of M. Germain, he having strictly and expressly forbidden my so doing to any person whatever; therefore, when I refuse to tell you, you may be quite sure it is because I really am not at liberty to do so; and that ought not to make you feel offended with me. If you had entrusted me with a secret, you would be pleased, would you not, to have me as careful of it, and determined not to reveal it, as I am about M. Germain's affair?"
"Nay, but – "
"Neighbour, once and for all, do not say anything more on this subject. I have made a promise which I will keep faithfully and honourably; so now you know my mind, and if you ask me a hundred times, I shall answer you just the same."
Spite of her thoughtlessness and frivolity, the young dressmaker pronounced these last words with so much firmness that, to his great regret, Rodolph perceived the impossibility of gaining the desired information respecting Germain through her means; and his mind revolted at the idea of laying any snare to entrap her into a betrayal of her secret; he therefore, after a slight pause, gaily replied:
"Well, let us say no more about it, then; but, upon my life, I don't wonder at you, who can so well keep the secrets of others, guarding your own so closely."
"Me have secrets?" cried Rigolette. "I only wish I had some more secrets of my own; it must be very amusing to have secrets."
"Do you really mean to assert that you have not a 'nice little secret' about some love-affair?"
"Love-affair!"
"Are you going to persuade me you have never been in love?" said Rodolph, looking fixedly at Rigolette, the better to read the truth in her telltale features.
"Been in love? Why, of course I have, with M. Giraudeau, M. Cabrion, M. Germain, and you!"
"Are you sure you loved them just as you do me, neither more nor less?"
"Oh, really, I cannot tell you so very exactly! If anything, I should say less; because I had to become accustomed to the squinting eyes of M. Giraudeau, the disagreeable jokes and red beard of M. Cabrion, and the low spirits and constant dejection of M. Germain, for the poor young man was very sad, and always seemed to have a heavy load on his mind, while you, on the contrary, took my fancy directly I saw you."
"Come now, my pretty neighbour, you must not be angry with me; I am going to speak candidly and sincerely, like an old friend."
"Oh, don't be afraid to say anything to me; I am very good-natured; and besides, I feel certain you are too kind; you could never have the heart to say anything to me that would give me pain."
"You are quite right; but do tell me truly, have you never had any lovers?"
"Lovers! I should think not! What time have I for such things?"
"What has time got to do with it?"
"Why, everything, to be sure. In the first place, I should be jealous as a tigress; and I should be continually worrying myself with one idea or another; and let me ask you whether you think it is likely I could afford to lose two or three hours a day in fretting and grieving. And then, suppose my lover were to turn out false! Oh, what tears it would cost me; how wretched I should be! All that sort of thing would put me sadly behindhand with my work, I can tell you."
"Well, but all lovers are not faithless and a cause of grief and
