“So you recognized me, did you?” I asked her.
“Oh, yes, papa; I recognized your voice too.”
“Have you thought of me sometimes?”
“Yes, papa, and I said that you were an awful long time away.”
“My dear love, after this, I won’t leave you any more.”
Ernest’s two children had left their play and had drawn near to look at
me. A little boy, about three years old, alone had remained on the
grass; he looked at us with a timid air. Suddenly my daughter left my
knee and ran to the little boy, took his hand, and led him to me,
saying:
“Come, Eugène, and kiss papa.”
I had guessed that it was he. I examined him closely: he had pretty
chestnut hair, lovely eyes, a pink and white complexion, and a gentle
expression; he looked very much like Eugénie; that was all that I could
discover in his features.
Doubtless my face had grown stern, for the child seemed to be afraid to
come forward. I could not help smiling, however, when he said to me with
a comical gravity:
“Good-morning, papa.”
I kissed him on the cheek, but sighed as I did so, with a heavy weight
at my heart. Then I put him down and he returned at once to the grass.
It seemed that the poor little fellow noticed that I had kissed him
against my will.
I took my daughter on my knee again; she jumped about and clapped her
hands for joy, saying:
“Now, when mamma comes back, I shall be happy; she will come soon, won’t
she, papa? Why didn’t you bring her back? She told me that she was going
to get you.”
I turned my eyes away and made no reply. Ernest said to me in an
undertone:
“My friend, you forbade us to mention your wife to you; but you must
expect now that Henriette will mention her very often. You certainly
would not want your daughter to cease to think of her mother?”
“No, of course not; besides, I am more reasonable now than I used to be.
I am now curious to learn--Henriette, go and play with your little
friends.”
My daughter went back to her brother and Ernest’s children. I sat
between Marguerite and Ernest and said to them:
“Tell me what has occurred since I went away, and how it happened that
my daughter was placed in your charge.”
“Yes, we will tell you all about it,” said Marguerite. “But first--I
say, Ernest, have you told him?”
Ernest smiled but said nothing.
“What is it?” I inquired.
“We are married!” cried Marguerite, jumping up and down on the bench.
“It is all settled--three months ago. Ah! I am not afraid of his leaving
me now; I am his wife.”
She ran to Ernest, took his head in her hands, and kissed him; he
extricated himself, saying:
“Stop! you are rumpling my shirt.”
“You see, Monsieur Henri, he is less agreeable already!--Oh! I only said
that in fun.”
“My dear friends, you have done well to be married, since that was your
wish. I do not think that you will be any happier than you were, but I
hope that you will be as happy. You have pledges of happiness.”