“I try to make myself comfortable.”
“My dear husband,” said the Countess Ambrose, “you proposed a visit to Milan two years ago, and the chevalier proposed it a few hours ago, and now we are on our way.”
“Yes, sweetheart, but my idea was that we should spend a month there.”
“If you want to do that,” said I, “I will see to everything.”
“Thank you, my dear sir; you are really a wonderful man.”
“You do me too much honour, count, there is nothing wonderful about me, except that I execute easily an easy task.”
“Yes; but you will confess that a thing may be difficult from the way in which we regard it, or from the position in which we find ourselves.”
“You are quite right.”
When we were again on our way the countess said,—
“You must confess, sir, that you are a very fortunate man.”