“Certainly, Agricola, we often talked about you with Dagobert; and latterly, too, with Gabriel,” added Blanche.
“Gabriel!” cried Agricola and his mother, at the same time.
“Yes,” replied Dagobert, making a sign of intelligence to the orphans, “we have lots to tell you for a fortnight to come; and among other things, how we chanced to meet with Gabriel. All I can now say is that, in his way, he is quite as good as my boy (I shall never be tired of saying ‘my boy’); and they ought to love each other like brothers. Oh, my brave, brave wife!” said Dagobert, with emotion, “you did a good thing, poor as you were, taking the unfortunate child—and bringing him up with your own.”
“Don’t talk so much about it, my dear; it was such a simple thing.”
“You are right; but I’ll make you amends for it by and by. ‘Tis down to your account; in the mean time, you will be sure to see him to-morrow morning.”
“My dear brother arrived too!” cried the blacksmith; “who’ll say, after this, that there are not days set apart for happiness? How came you to meet him, father?”
“I’ll tell you all, by and by, about when and how we met Gabriel; for if you expect to sleep, you are mistaken. You’ll give me half your room, and a fine chat we’ll have. Spoil-sport will stay outside of this door; he is accustomed to sleep at the children’s door.”
“Dear me, love, I think of nothing. But, at such a moment, if you and the young ladies wish to sup, Agricola will fetch something from the cook-shop.”
“What do you say, children?”
“No, thank you, Dagobert, we are not hungry; we are too happy.”