These last words failed to attract Yvon's attention, however, and he continued:
"What are the little concessions I make, my dearest, in comparison with the blissful happiness I owe to you? Think," he added, turning to the crib, "this little angel that is the joy of my life, who gave her to me?" And he was about to open the curtains, when his wife said to him, warningly:
"Take care, Yvon, she is asleep."
"Let me just take one peep at her, only one. I have not seen her all day."
"The light of the lamp might arouse her, my dear, and the poor little thing has just had such a trying time."
"What! has she been ill?" inquired Cloarek, anxiously, leaving the cradle. "Do you really feel uneasy about her?"
"Not now, my dear, but you know how extremely nervous and excitable she is. She resembles me only too much in this respect," added Jenny, with a melancholy smile.
"And I, far from regretting that the dear child is so impressionable, rejoice at it, on the contrary, for I hope she will be endowed with the same exquisite sensibility of feeling that you are."
The young woman gently shook her head.
"This is what happened. Our big Newfoundland dog came into the room, and frightened the poor little thing so that I had great difficulty in quieting her afterward."