It was after the mumps, which we both had together in a double‑bedded infirmerie next to the lingerie—a place where it was a pleasure to be ill; for she was in and out all day, and told us all that was going on, and gave us nice drinks and tisanes of her own making—and laughed at all Barty's jokes, and some of mine! and wore the most coquettish caps ever seen.
Besides, she was an uncommonly good‑looking woman—a tall blonde with beautiful teeth, and wonderfully genial, good‑humored, and lively—an ideal nurse, but a terrible postponer of cures! Lord Archibald quite fell in love with her.
"C'est moi qui voudrais bien avoir les oreillons ici!" he said to her. "Je retarderais ma convalescence autant que possible!"
"Comme il sait bien le français, votre oncle—et comme
MADEMOISELLE MARCELINE
il est poli!" said Marceline to the convalescent Barty, who was in no hurry to get well either!
When we did get well again, Barty would spend much of his play‑time fetching and carrying for Mlle. Marceline—even getting Dumollard's socks for her to darn—and talking to her by the hour as he sat by her pleasant window, out of which one could see the Arch of Triumph, which so triumphantly dominated Paris and its suburbs, and does so still—no Eiffel Tower can kill that arch!
I, being less precocious, did not begin my passion for Mlle. Marceline till next year, just as Bonneville and Jolivet trois were getting over theirs. Nous avons tous passé par là!