He pretended he had some work to do. He would have to sit up a little longer. But she grew angry, she wished him to take some rest; it was foolish to work himself to death like that!
“You hear me, now go to bed. Gasparine, promise me to make him go to bed.”
The cousin, who had just placed a glass of sugar and water, and one of Dickens’ novels on the night table, looked at her. Without answering, she bent over and said:
“You are so nice, this evening!”
And she kissed her on both cheeks, with her dry lips and bitter mouth, in the resigned manner of a poor and ugly relation. Campardon, his face very red, and suffering from a difficult digestion, also looked at his wife. His mustache quivered slightly as he kissed her in his turn.
“Good night, my little duck.”
“Good night, my darling. Now, mind you go to bed at once.”
“Never fear!” said Gasparine. “If he’s not in bed asleep at eleven o’clock, I’ll get up and put his lamp out.”
Toward eleven o’clock, Campardon, who was yawning over a Swiss cottage, the fancy of a tailor of the Rue Rameau, rose from his seat and undressed himself slowly, thinking of Rose, so pretty and so clean; then, after opening his bed, on account of the servants, he went and joined Gasparine in hers. It was so narrow that they slept very uncomfortably in it, and their elbows were constantly digging into each other’s ribs. He especially always had one leg quite stiff in the morning, through his efforts to balance himself on the edge of the mattress.
At the same time, as Victoire had gone to her room, having finished her washing up, Lisa came, in accordance with her usual custom, to see if mademoiselle required anything more. Angèle was waiting for her comfortably in her bed; and thus, every evening, unknown to the parents, they had endless games at cards, on a corner of the counterpane, which they spread out for the purpose. They played at beggar-my-neighbor, while abusing cousin Gasparine, a dirty creature, whom the maid coarsely pulled to pieces before the child. They both avenged themselves for their hypocritical submission during the day, and Lisa took a low delight in this corruption of Angèle, and in satisfying the curiosity of this sickly girl, agitated by the crisis of her thirteen years. That night they were furious with Gasparine, who, for two days past, had taken to locking up the sugar, with which the maid filled her pockets, to empty them afterward on the child’s bed. What a bear she was! now they were not even able to get a lump of sugar to suck when going to sleep!