You will easily understand that Emile and I do not spend the whole of the night which follows after such an evening in sleep.  Why!  Do you mean to tell me that a wise man should be so much affected by a mere coincidence of name!  Is there only one Sophy in the world?  Are they all alike in heart and in name?  Is every Sophy he meets his Sophy?  Is he mad to fall in love with a person of whom he knows so little, with whom he has scarcely exchanged a couple of words?  Wait, young man; examine, observe.  You do not even know who our hosts may be, and to hear you talk one would think the house was your own.

This is no time for teaching, and what I say will receive scant attention.  It only serves to stimulate Emile to further interest in Sophy, through his desire to find reasons for his fancy.  The unexpected coincidence in the name, the meeting which, so far as he knows, was quite accidental, my very caution itself, only serve as fuel to the fire.  He is so convinced already of Sophy’s excellence, that he feels sure he can make me fond of her.

Next morning I have no doubt Emile will make himself as smart as his old travelling suit permits.  I am not mistaken; but I am amused to see how eager he is to wear the clean linen put out for us.  I know his thoughts, and I am delighted to see that he is trying to establish a means of intercourse, through the return and exchange of the linen; so that he may have a right to return it and so pay another visit to the house.

I expected to find Sophy rather more carefully dressed too; but I was mistaken.  Such common coquetry is all very well for those who merely desire to please.  The coquetry of true love is a more delicate matter; it has quite another end in view.  Sophy is dressed, if possible, more simply than last night, though as usual her frock is exquisitely clean.  The only sign of coquetry is her self-consciousness.  She knows that an elaborate toilet is a sign of love, but she does not know that a careless toilet is another of its signs; it shows a desire to be like not merely for one’s clothes but for oneself.  What does a lover care for her clothes if he knows she is thinking of him?  Sophy is already sure of her power over Emile, and she is not content to delight his eyes if his heart is not hers also; he must not only perceive her charms, he must divine them; has he not seen enough to guess the rest?

We may take it for granted that while Emile and I were talking last night, Sophy and her mother were not silent; a confession was made and instructions given.  The morning’s meeting is not unprepared.  Twelve hours ago our young people had never met; they have never said a word to each other; but it is clear that there is already an understanding between them.  Their greeting is formal, confused, timid; they say nothing, their downcast eyes seem to avoid each other, but that is in itself a sign that they understand, they avoid each other with one consent; they already