“But have you said good-by to Mme. la Princesse?”
“She would never forgive me for waking her at this hour.”
“Mon Dieu! but you have no luggage.”
“I have a bag in the hall below.”
“Ah, mon Dieu! I hope this is all for the best. So you are going with only a bag? Désiré, have you forgotten Angélique?”
“I have three thousand francs in an envelope—it will keep you going. Do try and make it do for six months. Look at me; I have only three thousand for a year.”
“I will try. Ah, mon Dieu! I wish I had never seen this day; my heart is heavy. Thanks, I will not open the envelope till I meet Angélique; we will open it together. We are like two children sitting at a feast and pulling crackers; each day is like a cracker tied with dawn-colored ribbon. Sometimes Angélique weeps at the contents of these crackers, sometimes she laughs and claps her hands; she will clap her hands to-day. Come, let us go and follow our fates.”
“This is my luggage,” said Toto, picking up a huge Gladstone bag in the hall.
Gaillard opened the hall door, and they passed out into the bright morning. The clock of St. Augustin was striking eight; the sparrows were fighting in the sunshine; the earth seemed teeming with life and light and happiness.
“How good it all is!” said Toto, as they drove over the Seine. He was echoing Célestin’s eternal sentiment without knowing it. “What a lovely world it is, and how little we see of it! We snore in our beds during the best part of the day, and live the rest of our time by lamplight.”