"I don't know what to do; I can think of nothing. When does Frédéric return?"
"In a week; we have plenty of time."
"Time! a week will soon be gone; and if he finds Sister Anne here!"
"Why, it seems to me that we might tell the girl not to speak."
"Of course she won't speak; but her gestures, the expression of her face, will say enough."
"Indeed! well, I give you my word that I often can't understand her at all."
Dubourg tortured his brain to find some method of sending away Sister Anne and her son. Ménard sat with his eyes fixed on his snuff-box, and pretended to be equally engrossed by that subject, but in reality his thoughts were full of a pâté of hare which had arrived from Paris the night before, and which they were to attack at dinner.
Constance returned to the house with the dumb girl and the child; Sister Anne's face still bore traces of suffering, but she was calmer and more resigned; when she saw Dubourg, she smiled sadly at him, and presented her son, at whom he gazed with interest, dismayed by the striking resemblance between his features and his father's.
"Don't you think he's a lovely boy?" said Constance.
"Yes, madame," Dubourg replied, as he kissed the child; "he's very pretty."