At that she threw herself into my arms and kissed me affectionately; she had recovered all her sunny humor of earlier days. To make the ladies amiable, all that is necessary is to do everything that they want.
XI
A SCENE
We hired an apartment on Boulevard Montmartre; it was rather expensive, but very attractive. We could not take possession for three months. Meanwhile, my wife was in a most delightful mood, save for the petty discussions which occur between the most closely attached couples; for after all, we are not perfect. My Eugénie was as she used to be in the earlier days of our married life; she never mentioned Ernest or Marguerite, and I did not tell her that I went sometimes to see them.
One lovely winter morning we determined to go to see our daughter. We could not bear to wait until spring to embrace our little Henriette. No sooner had we formed the plan than I went out to hire a cabriolet for the whole day. I provided a cold chicken, a pie and a bottle of bordeaux; things which are difficult to procure at a nurse’s house, but which are never out of place anywhere. Eugénie wore a large bonnet which protected her from the wind, and a large, thick cloak; I wrapped myself in my own cloak, simply leaving my hands free to drive; and we started for Livry.
It was a beautiful drive, the air was sharp, but the sun shone brightly. And we had, what was better still, love and good spirits for travelling companions; so that we made the journey merrily enough. When my hands were too cold, Eugénie took the reins and drove for me.
We sang and laughed and ate in our cabriolet; we were our own masters; there were only we two; no tiresome coachman behind to grumble if we went too fast or if we whipped the horse, or to sneer as he counted the kisses we exchanged. It is so pleasant for people who love each other to be alone!
We drove along the outskirts of the famous forest of Bondy, which is much less famous to-day, because there are fewer thieves in the forest and more in the salons. In due time we reached Livry, a village where there are almost no cottages, a town where there are few houses. We found our nurse’s house, and made a triumphal entry into a yard full of manure, mud and pools of water; what the peasants call piqueux. My wife had already alighted from the carriage; she had spied the nurse with a little one in her arms; and she ran to her, and seized the child, crying:
“This is my daughter! I know her!”
For my part, I confess that I should never have known her. When my daughter left us, she was three days old; and I consider that at that age all children resemble each other. She was now four months; one could begin to distinguish something; but I should never have been able to tell whether she was my daughter, or the nurse’s child, who was three months older; mothers never make a mistake.
Eugénie examined her daughter admiringly and insisted that she looked like me already. With the best will in the world, I could detect no resemblance; and although I felt that I should love my daughter dearly, frankly, I could as yet see nothing adorable about her.