"Sh!" said Elizabeth, not having told Marie Louise and Philippe, who chattered too much about the object of the journey, on which she was taking them as useful allies. The two were just disputing about the matter.
"I tell you we are going to Saint-Martin."
"Certainly not. We are going by train," stated the more competent little girl.
And their mother, as she listened, was laying her finest black dress in the top tray, arched so as not to crush it.
Once in the compartment, a second class carriage, the little ones could not restrain their joy.
"It is Paris!" cried the big boy, as if he had solved a delicate problem. And the magic syllables fell from his little round mouth like a golden ball.
Marie Louise looked attentively at her mother, and then came and laid her face against hers. Their cheeks were of the same delicacy, and their fair hair mingled.
"Shall we see papa?" asked the child.
"Yes."
"And we shall stay with him?"