"I don't know anything about that; but if they do love them, they love them after the manner of wolves, I suppose, bringing them a piece of their bleeding prey when they are little, and leading them out to attack and devour the poor lambs when they get older."
A bitter expression flitted over Cloarek's face; then he answered, smiling:
"After all, you and M. Onésime may be right. If you would talk to me about silks and merino I might hold my own, but I am not much of a judge of privateers and privateering."
"I was sure you would agree with us. How could a person who is as generous, compassionate, and affectionate as you are think otherwise? or, rather, I could not think differently from what you do, my dear father, for if I have a horror of everything that is cruel and wicked, if I love everything that is good and beautiful, is it not to you and your example I owe it, as well as to the precepts of my poor mother whom you loved so devotedly? for not a day passes that Suzanne does not relate some instance of your deep affection for her."
The conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of the housekeeper, candle in hand, who, to Yvon's great surprise, announced:
"I am very sorry, but it is ten o'clock, monsieur."
"Well, what of it, Suzanne?"
"It is the hour the doctor said mademoiselle must go to bed, you know."
"Give me just a quarter of an hour more, Suzanne?"
"Not a single minute, mademoiselle."