"What the deuce is that, Mother Barbançon?" asked the veteran, who had already picked up his hat and cane, preparatory to departure.
"It is a cravat I have made for you, monsieur," said the worthy housekeeper,—"a little surprise I ventured upon, as you have nothing but your black cravat to wear on this happy day—and—I—I thought that—"
And the worthy woman, quite overcome with excitement and emotion, burst into tears, unable to finish the sentence.
The old officer, though he positively loathed the idea of swathing his neck in this uncomfortable affair, was so deeply touched by this attention on the part of his housekeeper that his voice trembled with emotion, as he replied:
"Why, Mother Barbançon, Mother Barbançon, what extravagance! I really ought to scold you well."
"See, there is a J and a B for Jacques Bernard, embroidered in each corner," said the housekeeper, calling attention to this decoration with manifest pride.
"True, there are my initials. See, Olivier!" said the good man, delighted with this attention.
"Why, my dear, good woman, you have no idea what pleasure, what great pleasure you have given me!" he added.
"Oh, thank you, monsieur," replied Madame Barbançon, as deeply touched and as joyfully as if she had received the most generous reward.
"But it is getting late," she added. "Look, it is half past six. Quick, monsieur, let me put it on for you."