"I complain of nothing," replied the honest nobleman; "God forbid! with my daughter and you, what more could I ask for my happiness?"
"Oh! yes; you talk like that when any one is listening to you, but if our backs are turned, and a little fly stings you, you put on a look of resignation altogether out of place in your position."
"My position is what God has made it," rejoined Monsieur Antoine, with melancholy gentleness. "If my daughter accepts it without regret, it is not for you or me to reproach Providence."
"I!" cried Gilberte; "what regret can I have, pray? Tell me, dear father; for, so far as I am concerned, I should look in vain to find anything on earth that I lack or that I can ask to have improved."
"And I am of mademoiselle's opinion," said Emile, deeply touched by the sincere and nobly affectionate expression on that lovely face; "I am sure that she is happy, because——"
"Because what? Tell us, Monsieur Cardonnet!" said Gilberte playfully; "you were going to say why, and you stopped short."
"I should be very sorry to seem to say anything insipid," replied Emile, blushing almost as red as the girl; "but I was thinking that when one had these three treasures, beauty, youth and amiability, one should be happy, because one could be sure of being loved."
"I am happier than you think, then," said Gilberte, putting one hand in her father's and the other in Janille's; "for I am loved dearly without reference to those other things. Whether I am beautiful and amiable, I don't know; but I am sure that if I were ugly and cross, my father and mother would love me just the same. My happiness therefore comes from their goodness to me and not from any merit of my own."
"We will permit you to believe, however," said Monsieur Antoine to Emile, pressing his daughter to his heart, "that it comes partly from one and partly from the other."
"Oh! Monsieur Antoine, see what you've done!" cried Janille; "more of your absent-mindedness! You've made a mark with your egg on Gilberte's sleeve."