She looked absently about the room, with happy
eyes, trying to recall the details of the scene between her and
Daniel; her glance fell on her father's weary face, and its melancholy
expression struck her sharply. She got up, and standing behind
him, laid her hand on his shoulder and said, with a little sigh of
compassion that tried to conceal her inward joy:
"Poor little Papa!"
Clerambault looked at Rosine, whose eyes, in spite of herself, shone
with happiness:
"And my little girl is not 'poor' any longer, is she?"
Rosine blushed: "Why do you say that?" she asked.
Clerambault only shook his head at her, and she leaned forward laying
her cheek against his:
"She is no longer poor," he repeated.
"No," she whispered, "she is very, very rich."
"Tell me about this fortune of hers?"
"She has--first of all--her dear Papa."
"Oh, you little fraud!" said Clerambault, trying to move so that he
could see her face, but Rosine put her hands over his eyes:
"No, I don't want you to look at me, or say anything to me...." She
kissed him again, and said caressingly:
"Poor dear little Papa."
Rosine had now escaped from the cares that weighed on the house, and
it was not long before she flew away from the nest altogether, for she
had passed her examinations and was sent to a hospital in the South.
Pages:
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298