"Revenez, revenez, beaux jours de mon enfance,"
he began, in a small, tremulous, fluty voice.
"They'll have a long road to travel back, parbleu!" muttered Müller.
"De votre aspect riant charmer ma souvenance!"
Here Mdlle. Rosalie struck a wrong chord, became involved in hopeless difficulties, and gasped audibly.
Monsieur Philomène darted a withering glance at her, and went on:--
"Mon coeur; mon pauvre coeur" ...
More wrong chords, and a smothered "mille pardons!" from Mdlle. Rosalie.
"Mon coeur, mon pauvre coeur a la tristesse en proie,
En fouillant le passé"....
A dead stop on the part of Mdlle. Rosalie.