all over with me.

"Well, what may be your will, madam?" said I.

Helene came towards me with uplifted, petitionary eyes.

"You are not going to be angry with me, Hugo!" she said. And she lifted
her eyes again upon me--irresistible, compelling, solvent of dignities,
and able to break down all pride.

O all ye men who have never seen my Helene look up thus at you--but only
common other eyes, go and hang yourselves on high trees for very envy.
Well, as I say, Helene looked up at me. She kept on looking up at me.

And I--well, I hung a moment on my pride, and then--clasped her in my
arms.

"Dear minx, thrice wicked one!" I exclaimed, "wherefore do you torment
me--break my heart?"

"Because," said she, escaping as soon as she had gained her pretty,
rascal way, "you think yourself so clever, Hugo, such an irresistible
person, that you must be forever returning to this window and getting
this book of chivalry by heart. Now you are going to be cross again. Oh,
shame, and with your little sister--

"'That never did you any harm,
But killed the mice in your father's barn.'"

With such babyish words she talked the frowns off my face, or, when they