“It isn’t glory, I tell you! It’s happiness!”
Phil and Poufaille were speaking low, and no one heard them. Suzanne had sat down, and every one was accustomed to Poufaille’s gestures. No one paid any attention.
“Good Poufaille, dear old Poufaille, I am sorry to give you pain, old man,” Phil said pleasantly, as he took away the bottle.
“No; it’s not worth while,” Poufaille said sadly; “I shall drink no more. Only follow what I say,—do you follow? Do you know why I am not married?”
“No,” said Phil, putting the bottle beyond reach.
“It is because you are not married.”
“Indeed!” said Phil. “So, my good Poufaille, you wish to marry me off like that?”
“Yes; as you swore you would do!” answered Poufaille.
“To whom?”
“To Helia!”