eight," said suddenly the gruff voice of
Dagobert, accompanying this piece of humor with a loud laugh.
A cry of gay surprise was heard, and then Rose resumed: "Good-morning,
Dagobert."
"Good-morning, my children. You are very lazy to-day, I must tell you."
"It is not our fault. Our dear Augustine has not yet been to call us. We
are waiting for her."
"Oh! there it is," said Dagobert to himself, his features once more
assuming an expression of anxiety. Then he returned aloud, in a tone of
some embarrassment, for the worthy man was no hand at a falsehood: "My
children, our companion went out this morning--very early. She is gone to
the country--on business--she will not return for some days--so you had
better get up by yourselves for today."
"Our good Madame Augustine!" exclaimed Blanche, with interest. "I hope it
is nothing bad that has made her leave suddenly--eh, Dagobert?"
"No, no--not at all--only business," answered the soldier. "To see one of
her relations."
"Oh, so much the better!" said Rose. "Well, Dagobert, when we call you
can come in."
"I will come back in a quarter of an hour," said the soldier as he
withdrew; and he thought to himself: "I must lecture that fool Loony--for
he is so stupid, and so fond of talking, that he will let it all out."
The name of the pretended simpleton will serve as a natural transition,
to inform the reader of the cause of the hilarity of the sisters. They
were laughing at the numberless absurdities of the idiot. The girls rose
and dressed themselves, each serving as lady's-maid to the other. Rose
had combed and arranged Blanche's hair; it was now Blanche's turn to do
the same for her sister. Thus occupied, they formed a charming picture.
Rose was seated before the dressing-table; her sister, standing behind
her, was smoothing her beautiful brown hair. Happy age! so little removed
from childhood, that present joy instantly obliterates the traces of past
sorrow! But the sisters felt more than joy; it was happiness, deep and
unalterable, for their father loved them, and their happiness was a
delight, and not a pain to him. Assured of the affection of his children,
he, also, thanks to them, no longer feared any grief. To those three
beings, thus certain of their mutual love, what was a momentary
separation? Having explained this, we shall understand the innocent
gayety of the sisters, notwithstanding their father's departure, and the
happy, joyous expression, which n
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