“It is not a pretty kitten, mademoiselle Alix,” said André, who sat beside Giles smoking.
“No; it is not pretty; except as all kittens are pretty—the delicate little paws; the beautiful movements. In time it will look better; with brushing and good food,” said Alix. “And it has a charming little coral nose to match the coral beads under its feet.—Only hear it purr, Giles! Have you ever noticed the softness of a kitten’s feet?—they are like raspberries to hold in one’s hand.”
André watched her meditatively.
“It is time for your bed, mon enfant.” Madame Vervier’s voice came from the drawing-room. “I will visit you before you sleep.—Ah, mais non! You must not have the kitten with you. You would be devoured by fleas. It will be quite happy shut into the kitchen.”
“But it is so young, Maman; so lonely. It must so miss its mother.” Alix stood supplicating, the kitten held to her cheek. “I do not mind the fleas.”
Madame Vervier was melted; or it was, perhaps, an evening on which she was inclined to indulgence. “Very well. If you do not mind the fleas! While it misses its mother, then. Too soon, alas, it will be a mother itself!”
“No; for it is a male cat, Maman,” said Alix with austere realism. “You need fear nothing on that score. There will be no more kittens to trouble you.”
“A la bonne heure!” laughed madame Vervier.
“But she returns to you, after her holiday with us here, the charming young creature,” André, when Alix had carried away her kitten, observed to Giles. It was remarkable, the sense they all gave Giles, that Alix was permanently his responsibility, and André’s voice had almost the geniality of family affection. If not he, then another English husband. Alix’s future had been, by those most concerned with it—by himself and by her mother—definitely agreed upon; that was the fact to which André’s voice and smile bore witness; and madame Vervier was certainly imparting the same news to monsieur de Maubert as she now sat embroidering beside him in her Ingres dress and scarf.
Alix herself, meanwhile, remained in ignorance of her destiny.