"What a duck! ... give me a kiss, Bran."
But Bran retreated behind his mother's skirts murmuring:
"The cat says bow-wow-wow."
"Don't be silly, my Wing. Come on--and say how do you do. This is Kitty."
"Je sais bien," said Bran, and handed Kitty a hardy smile. Bran knew all things well--at least that was his favourite response to all remarks. When Val first took him to Notre Dame and they knelt together in the light of the wonderful rose-window, she whispered in his ear:
"Brannie, you are in the most beautiful church in the world."
"Je sais bien," he had answered blandly.
They all proceeded to Villa Duval, followed by the speculative glances of the crowd and the grocer's handcart carrying Harriott's luggage. Kitty and Haidee, subtly aware of the admiring eyes of the two young Frenchmen, assumed a demure air mingled with light and not too annihilating scorn.
Harriott expressed herself charmed with Villa Duval and all that therein was, from the rose-tree on the balustrade that bore both pink and white roses as a tribute to pére Duval's skill in grafting, to the meat-safe suspended by a chain from the dining-room floor to the cellar below. After inspecting the cabins, peeping out of the windows, and hearkening to the man-eater in the kitchen, she said:
"You don't know how lucky you are, Val, living in peace and simplicity like this. You ought to be a very happy woman."