you mean," he said--"upon my word I
don't. But it is a trick I would not advise everybody to try."

There were other embarrassing moments, caused by George's having things
to conceal. There was, for instance, the matter of the six months' delay
in the marriage--about which Henriette would never stop talking. She
begrudged the time, because she had got the idea that little Gervaise
was six months younger than she otherwise would have been. "That shows
your timidity again," she would say. "The idea of your having imagined
yourself a consumptive!"

Poor George had to defend himself. "I didn't tell you half the truth,
because I was afraid of upsetting you. It seemed I had the beginning of
chronic bronchitis. I felt it quite keenly whenever I took a breath, a
deep breath--look, like this. Yes--I felt--here and there, on each side
of the chest, a heaviness--a difficulty--"

"The idea of taking six months to cure you of a thing like that!"
exclaimed Henriette. "And making our baby six months younger than she
ought to be!"

"But," laughed George, "that means that we shall have her so much the
longer! She will get married six months later!"

"Oh, dear me," responded the other, "let us not talk about such things!
I am already worried, thinking she will get married some day."

"For my part," said George, "I see myself mounting with her on my arm
the staircase of the Madeleine."

"Why the Madeleine?" exclaimed his wife. "Such a very magnificent
church!"

"I don't know--I see her under her white veil, and myself all dressed
up, and with an order."

"With an order!" laughed Henriette. "What do you expect to do to win an
order?"

"I don't know that--but I see myself with it. Explain it as you will, I
see myself with an order. I see it all, exactly as if I were there--the
Swiss guard with his white stockings and the halbard, and the little
milliner's assistants and the scullion lined up staring."

"It is far off--all that," said Henriette. "I don't like to talk of it.
I prefer her as a baby. I want her to grow up--but then I change my
mind and think I don't. I know your mother doesn't. Do you know, I don't
believe she ever thinks about anything but her little Gervaise."

"I believe you," said the father. "The child can certainly boast of
having a grandmother who loves her."

"Also, I adore your mother," declared Henriette. "She makes me forget my
misfortune in not having my own mother. She is so good!"

"We are all l