“Yes, dear.”
“You don’t come too often these days,” he said, toying with her ear.
“That is because I know that you are tired, and would rather sleep when you have left your study.”
“Too tired, you think, to enjoy your presence?”
“Yes; you know I have not lost the girlish habit of liking to lie awake and talk. You go to sleep the moment you touch the pillow. Ah, me! how we change! I remember how you used to keep me awake with your ineffable words and caresses! and I was so indifferent then. You loved me more than I could possibly appreciate;” and she added, taking the hair-pins from her silvery hair, and with a little sigh, “Ah! if I were only young again!” For answer, the doctor sang the trivial words of Beranger:
“Combien je regrette
Mon bras si dodu,
Ma jambe bien faite
Et le temps perdu.”
“Translate your French. It is something shocking, no doubt.”