He was so timid he scarcely dared enter, but stood still, holding a tall white rose-tree in his arms, a magnificent plant with a stem that reached to his face and entangled the flowers in his beard.

Gervaise ran to him, her cheeks burning from the heat of the stoves.

But he did not know how to get rid of his pot; and when she had taken it from his hands he stammered, not daring to kiss her.

It was she who was obliged to stand on tip-toe and place her cheek against his lips; he was so agitated that even then he kissed her roughly on the eye almost blinding her.

They both stood trembling.
"Oh! Monsieur Goujet, it's too lovely!" said she, placing the rose-tree beside the other flowers which it overtopped with the whole of its tuft of foliage.
"Not at all, not at all!" repeated he, unable to say anything else.
Then, after sighing deeply, he slightly recovered himself and stated that she was not to expect his mother; she was suffering from an attack of sciatica.