“No; you shall see them to-morrow. It’s more than a year since you came to see us—fifteen months at least! They have grown tremendously in that time! The older one is four now, and the younger three. You can tell us whom they look like.”
Déneterre’s appearance interrupted our conversation. My brother-in-law manifested great pleasure at my arrival; he embraced me with sincere cordiality, urged me to pass the winter with them at Melun, and I saw in his eyes that his heart agreed with his lips; I noticed simply that when he came in he had in his hands a billiard cue, which he stood in a corner. We talked business and the news of Paris for a moment. Déneterre was in good spirits; his cotton mill was prosperous, his business was in excellent shape, he hoped to be able to retire and live on his income in a few years.
While we were talking, Amélie went in and out, gave orders, had a room made ready for me, invited me to take something before supper.
“I never take supper,” I said.
“You must do it here, my dear; it’s one of the customs of the province, and it’s not disagreeable, I assure you.”
“All right; I’ll take supper when I am hungry.”
“Speaking of eating,” said Déneterre, “where are the children? Why don’t they come to kiss their uncle?”
“They’re in bed, my dear,” said Amélie.
“In bed, already! why, that’s ridiculous! You put them to bed too early.”
“Their health requires it.”