'Octave!' said Marthe, in a tone of reproach; 'don't tease the poor child.'
But Désirée had not heard him; she was explaining to Serge with much detail how the bird had flown away.
'It just slipped out, you see, like that, and then it flew over yonder and lighted on Monsieur Rastoil's big pear-tree. Next it flew off to the plum-tree at the bottom, came back again and went right over my head into the big trees belonging to the Sub-Prefecture, and I've never seen it since; no, never since.'
Her eyes filled with tears.
'Perhaps it will come back again,' Serge ventured to say.
'Oh! do you think so? I think I will put the others into a box, and leave the door of the cage open all night.'
Octave could not restrain his laughter, but Marthe called to Désirée:
'Come and look here! come and look here!'
Then she gave her the doll. It was a magnificent one now. It had a stiff dress, a head made of a pad of calico, and arms of list sewn on at the shoulders. Désirée's eyes lighted up with sudden joy. She sat down again upon the stool, and, forgetting all about the bird, began to kiss the doll and dandle it in her arms with childish delight.