I hope you won't be astonished, my dear fellow, but—I have another piece of news relating to Barbassou-Pasha.
The day before yesterday, while my uncle and I were chatting together, as is our custom, before he went to bed, I observed that he yawned in an unusual manner. I had remarked this symptom before, and I drew my own conclusion from it, which was that overtaken once more by his adventurous instincts, he was beginning to find life tedious in the department of Le Gard,—he was longing for something or other, that was certain! And I began ransacking my mind to find some new food upon which he might exercise his all-devouring energy, when he said to me, just before I left him—
"By the bye, André, I have written to your aunt that I am returned. She will probably arrive some time between now and the end of the week."
"Ah!" I replied; "well, uncle, that's capital! I shall be delighted to have our family life back again."
"Yes, the house will seem really furnished then," he continued. "Well, good night, my boy!"
"Good night, uncle."
Then I left him.
Now, although this legitimate conjugal desire of my uncle's was quite rational on his part, you may nevertheless imagine that I went to bed rather puzzled. Which of my aunts should I see arrive? My uncle had acquainted me with this design in such an artless manner that it never occurred to me to venture any question on the subject. I began therefore to form conjectures based upon his present frame of mind, as to which of his wives he had probably selected.
I commenced by setting aside my aunt Cora, of the Isle of Bourbon. It was not very likely that the Pasha wanted to add to his past ontological researches upon the coloured races. Excluding also my aunt Christina de Postero, whose adventure with Jean Bonaffé had brought her into disgrace, there remained only my aunt Lia Ben Lévy, my aunt Gretchen Van Cloth, and my aunt Eudoxie de Cornalis, so that the question was now considerably narrowed. Still I must confess that it was not much use my setting all my powers of induction to work, taking as my premises the captain's age, his present tastes, his plans, &c. All I succeeded in doing was to lose myself in a maze of affirmations and contradictions from which I could find no way out. The best thing to be done was to wait. So I waited.