She had not taken her daughter. My little Henriette ran out to embrace me, with outstretched arms! How could Eugénie take any pleasure, away from her daughter? I could not understand it.
“Didn’t your mamma take you?” I asked the child, taking her on my knee.
“No, papa.”
“Did you cry when she went away?”
“Yes, papa, I cried.”
“Poor child! you cried, and your mother left you behind!”
“But mamma told me that if I was very good she would bring me a cake; so then I stopped crying.”
“Did anybody come to see your mamma to-day?”
“Yes, you know, that gentleman who plays music with mamma, and who gives me sweeties.”
“Monsieur Dulac?”