"I obey you in all things with joy."
"The tenth of May, which is a Saturday, will suit me very nicely, for it is my birthday."
"Very well, the tenth of May."
"Your parents live near Rouen, do they not? You have told me so, at least."
"Yes, near Rouen, at Canteleu."
"What are they?"
"They are—they are small annuitants."
"Ah! I should very much like to know them."
He hesitated, greatly perplexed, and said: "But, you see, they are—" Then making up his mind, like a really clever man, he went on: "My dear, they are mere country folk, innkeepers, who have pinched themselves to the utmost to enable me to pursue my studies. For my part, I am not ashamed of them, but their—simplicity—their rustic manners—might, perhaps, render you uncomfortable."
She smiled, delightfully, her face lit up with gentle kindness as she replied: "No. I shall be very fond of them. We will go and see them. I want to. I will speak of this to you again. I, too, am a daughter of poor people, but I have lost my parents. I have no longer anyone in the world." She held out her hand to him as she added: "But you."