“Oh! it is my papa! it is my papa!”
“Dear love! how happy it makes me to hold you in my arms again! how could I have delayed my return so long!”
I sat down beside Madame Ernest and took my daughter on my knee.
“So you recognized me, did you?” I asked her.
“Oh, yes, papa; I recognized your voice too.”
“Have you thought of me sometimes?”
“Yes, papa, and I said that you were an awful long time away.”
“My dear love, after this, I won’t leave you any more.”
Ernest’s two children had left their play and had drawn near to look at me. A little boy, about three years old, alone had remained on the grass; he looked at us with a timid air. Suddenly my daughter left my knee and ran to the little boy, took his hand, and led him to me, saying:
“Come, Eugène, and kiss papa.”