BOOK EIGHTH.
CHAPTER 6. THREE HUMAN HEARTS DIFFERENTLY CONSTRUCTED.
(continued)
Phoebus, who had seen nothing in the line of beauty, since
he left the village maids of Queue-en-Brie, was intoxicated
with Fleur-de-Lys, which imparted to our officer so eager and
gallant an air, that his peace was immediately made. Madame
de Gondelaurier herself, still maternally seated in her big arm-
chair, had not the heart to scold him. As for Fleur-de-Lys's
reproaches, they expired in tender cooings.
The young girl was seated near the window still embroidering
her grotto of Neptune. The captain was leaning over the
back of her chair, and she was addressing her caressing
reproaches to him in a low voice.
"What has become of you these two long months, wicked man?"
"I swear to you," replied Phoebus, somewhat embarrassed
by the question, "that you are beautiful enough to set an
archbishop to dreaming."
She could not repress a smile.
"Good, good, sir. Let my beauty alone and answer my
question. A fine beauty, in sooth!"
"Well, my dear cousin, I was recalled to the garrison.
"And where is that, if you please? and why did not you
come to say farewell?"
"At Queue-en-Brie."
Phoebus was delighted with the first question, which helped
him to avoid the second.
"But that is quite close by, monsieur. Why did you not
come to see me a single time?"
Here Phoebus was rather seriously embarrassed.
"Because--the service--and then, charming cousin, I have
been ill."
"Ill!" she repeated in alarm.
"Yes, wounded!"
"Wounded!"
She poor child was completely upset.
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