"Dear, good aunt! Oh, how delightful to have some one to love us!"
"And you return the tender affection she bears you?"
"Oh, with all my heart!" exclaimed Fleur-de-Marie, clasping her hands, and raising her eyes to heaven with an expression impossible to describe. "And I should help her to work, to attend to the family linen, to keep everything neat and clean, to store up the summer fruits against winter—oh, she would never have to complain that I was idle, I promise! First of all, in the morning—"
"Wait a bit, Fleur-de-Marie; you are in too great a hurry. I want to finish describing the house to you; never mind your aunt just yet."
"Ah, ha, Mr. Painter! All this is taken from some pretty landscape you have been painting on a fan. Now I know what makes you so expert at describing it!" said La Goualeuse, laughing merrily at her own little jest.
"You little chatterer, be quiet, will you?"
"Yes, I am a chatterer, indeed, to interrupt you so often, M. Rodolph; but pray go on, and I will not speak again till you have finished painting this dear farm."
"Your room is on the first floor—"
"My room! how charming! Oh, go on—go on, please, M. Rodolph, and describe all about it to me!" And the delighted girl opened her large laughing eyes, and pressed more closely against Rodolph, as if she expected to see the picture in his hand.
"Your chamber has two windows looking out upon the flower garden, and a small meadow, watered by the river we mentioned. On the opposite bank of the stream rises a small hill, planted with fine old chestnut-trees; and from amongst them peeps out the village church—"