"Show you, dear father, all the store of love we were heaping up in our hearts—so sad, alas! that we could not spend it upon you?"
"Tell you aloud all that we think in secret?"
"Yes—you may do so—you may do so," said Marshal Simon, faltering with joy; "what prevented you, my children? But no; do not answer; enough of the past!—I know all, I understand all. You misinterpreted my gloom, and it made you sad; I, in my turn, misinterpreted your sadness. But never mind; I scarcely know what I am saying to you. I only think of looking at you—and it dazzles me—it confuses me—it is the dizziness of joy!"
"Oh, look at us, father! look into our eyes, into our hearts," cried
Rose, with rapture.
"And you will read there, happiness for us, and love for you, sir!" added
Blanche.
"Sir, sir!" said the marshal, in a tone of affectionate reproach; "what does that mean? Will you call me father, if you please?"
"Dear father, your hand!" said Blanche, as she took it, and placed it on her heart.
"Dear father, your hand!" said Rose, as she took the other hand of the marshal. "Do you believe now in our love and happiness?" she continued.
It is impossible to describe the charming expression of filial pride in the divine faces of the girls, as their father, slightly pressing their virgin bosoms, seemed to count with delight the joyous pulsations of their hearts.
"Oh, yes! happiness and affection can alone make the heart beat thus!" cried the marshal.