"Oh, yes! but when one's voice is sweet to begin with——"
"Come, write; are you ready?"
"To be sure."
"First of all, this little mahogany cradle—the one my poor little boy slept in. Ah! I shall never part with this cradle!—Next, the little desk, with drawers, downstairs; I shall keep that, too."
"And the piano, dear; we mustn't forget the piano."
"That goes without saying; for we shall not find one there."
"And we will play a great deal, for music must be even more agreeable in the country than in Paris."
"Why so?"
"Because, in the first place, we can hear each other better."
"This old easy-chair—what they call a ganache; it's very convenient when one isn't feeling very well; you can sleep very comfortably in it."