The eyes in question, which were indeed more blue than grey, were now staring up unwinkingly and rather disconcertingly at the young man.
"Dost thou recognise me, Maurice?" asked Armand. "Thou art thyself unlike anyone or anything that I have ever seen. Is it possible that I am reminded of a monkey?"
"M. le Comte would not wish to hold him?" suggested the nurse.
"Si," answered Armand. "Give him to me. He will not break, hein?"
He had the gift of doing everything deftly, and he held his son in a manner to call forth praises from the guardian. Maurice still studied him, and was carried over to Martha at the window.
"Well, my good Martha," said Armand, "what do you think of him?"
"He takes to you, Sir," responded Mrs. Kemblet weightily. (Never, though she sometimes accorded her "lamb" a title, did she address the source of that title otherwise.) "And there's no doubt he has your eyes."
"He has need to take to someone, has he not?" observed Armand.
And though it had given Martha "a turn" to see the poor innocent in his father's arms when he had never been in his mother's, she rose in defence, knowing the Breton ignorant of English.
"She'll be all right, Sir, my lady will, when she's stronger, you'll see, and be as fond of him as never was, she as wanted him so badly.... Will he go back to his Nana now, the precious?"