ing their little ones in thy
honor, for the dignity which thou dost keep alive in the dwellings of
the lowliest, for the gorgeous apparel put aside for thee in the depths
of the old crippled wardrobe; above all I bless thee for all the
happiness which thou didst bring in full measure that morning to the
great new house on the outskirts of the old faubourg.

The toilets completed, the breakfast hastily swallowed,[3] they are
putting on their hats in front of the mirror in the salon. Grandmamma is
casting her eye around for the last time, sticking in a pin here,
retying a ribbon there, adjusting the paternal cravat; but, while all
the little party are pawing the floor impatiently, beckoned out of doors
by the beauty of the day, suddenly their gayety is clouded by a ring at
the door-bell.

FOOTNOTES:

[3] There is in the text at this point a play upon words which it is
impossible to render in English. "Les toilettes terminees, le dejeuner
fini, pris sur le pouce--et sur le pouce de ces demoiselles vous pensez
ce qu'il peut tenir," etc., that is to say: "the breakfast at an end,
taken upon the thumb--and you can imagine how much the thumbs of those
young ladies would hold." To eat _sur le pouce_ (eat upon the thumb)
means to eat hastily, without taking time to sit down.

"Suppose we don't go to the door?" the children suggest.

And what relief, what a shout of joy when friend Paul appears!

"Come quick, quick; let us tell you the good news!"

He knew before anybody else that the play was accepted. He had had
difficulty enough in making Cardailhac read it, for at the first sight
of the "little lines," as he called the verses, he wanted to send the
manuscript to the Levantine and her _masseur_, as he did with all the
rubbish that was sent to him. But Paul was careful not to speak of his
intervention. As for the other great event, which was not mentioned
because of the children, he guessed it without difficulty from the
tremulous happiness of Maranne, whose fair hair stood straight on end
over his forehead,--because the poet constantly thrust both hands
through it, as he always did in his moments of joy,--from the slightly
embarrassed demeanor of Elise, and from the triumphant airs of M.
Joyeuse, who stood proudly erect in his spotless linen, with all the
happiness of his dear ones written on his face.

Grandmamma alone preserved her usual tranquil bearing; but one detected
in her, in the zeal with which she waite