“And from whom, then?”
“You shall know that by and by.”
“Well, then—since you have a Gabriel of your own—there is the more reason that you should love ours.”
“Yours! but who is yours? I am on thorns till you tell me.”
“You know, Dagobert,” resumed Rose, “that Blanche and I are accustomed to fall asleep, holding each other by the hand.”
“Yes, yes, I have often seen you in your cradle. I was never tired of looking at you; it was so pretty.”
“Well, then—two nights ago, we had just fallen asleep, when we beheld—”
“Oh, it was in a dream!” cried Dagobert. “Since you were asleep, it was in a dream!”
“Certainly, in a dream—how else would you have it?”
“Pray let my sister go on with her tale!”