"Monsieur Goulden, I thank you," I replied; "but this watch is for
Catharine, and I wish to have earned it. You will pain me if you
refuse the money; I would as lief not take the watch."
He said nothing more, but took the thirty-five francs; then he opened
his drawer, and chose a pretty steel chain, with two little keys of
silver-gilt, which he fastened to the watch. Then he put all together
in a box with a rose-colored favor. He did all this slowly, as if
affected; then he gave me the box.
"It is a pretty present, Joseph," said he. "Catharine ought to think
herself happy in having such a lover as you. She is a good girl. Now
we can take our supper. Set the table."
The table was arranged, and then Monsieur Goulden took from a closet a
bottle of his Metz wine, which he kept for great occasions, and we
supped like old friends, rather than as master and apprentice; all the
evening he never stopped speaking of the merry days of his youth;
telling me how he once had a sweetheart, but that, in 1792, he left
home in the _levee en masse_ at the time of the Prussian invasion, and
that on his return to Fenetrange, he found her married--a very natural
thing, since he had never mustered courage enough to declare his love.
However, this did not prevent his remaining faithful to the tender
remembrance, and when he spoke of it he seemed sad indeed. I recounted
all this in imagination to Catharine, and it was not until the stroke
of ten, at the passage of the rounds, which relieved the sentries on
post every twenty minutes on account of the great cold, that we put two
good logs on the fire, and at length went to bed.