Jean looked a laugh at her through his great brass-rimmed spectacles and added:
“Ba su, then I know. It is because we go to sleep in my hut at Plemont where She live so long. I know, you never sleep there.”
Maitresse Aimable shook her head once more, and drew from her pocket a letter.
At sight of it Dormy Jamais crawled quickly over to where the Femme de Ballast sat, and, ‘reaching out, he touched it with both hands.
“Princess of all the world—bidemme,” he said, and he threw out his arms and laughed.
Two great tears were rolling down Maitresse Aimable’s cheeks.
“How to remember she, ma fuifre!” said Jean Touzel. “But go on to the news of her.”
Maitresse Aimable spread the letter out and looked at it lovingly. Her voice rose slowly up like a bubble from the bottom of a well, and she spoke.
“Ah man pethe benin, when it come, you are not here, my Jean. I take it to the Greffier to read for me. It is great news, but the way he read so sour I do not like, ba su! I see Maitre Damian the schoolmaster pass my door. I beckon, and he come. I take my letter here, I hold it close to his eyes. ‘Read on that for me, Maitre Damian—you,’ I say. O my good, when he read it, it sing sweet like a song, pergui! Once, two, three times I make him read it out—he has the voice so soft and round, Maitre Damian there.”
“Glad and good!” interrupted Jean. “What is the news, my wife? What is the news of highnesss—he?”