“But she could not—non, non! You do not theenk!”
Madeleine laughed gaily.
“What would you do if I went away for three weeks?” Ken asked.
“You do not go!... It ees not true.” Her eyes grew big and her lips parted as she waited for his answer.
“No, I’m not going any place.... But if I should go, what would you do?”
“I should be ver’ solitaire. Ver’ often I should weep. And I should work ver’ hard at all times—to make the days go more fast.”
“Would you find another American officer to help you pass the time?”
“You know,” she said, simply.
“Oh, là là!” exclaimed Madeleine. “Regard these children. It ees the great love. Toujours fidèle. It ees mos’ beautiful.”
“It is ever’thing,” said Andree. “You, mademoiselle, love a ver’ little. So you are happy a ver’ little. N’est-ce pas? I love ver’ much, so I am happy ver’ much. It is clear. You theenk you are mos’ happy, but you do not know. It is not until you love, mademoiselle, until you love weeth all the love there is that you have the great happiness.”