“Ah, yes! to be sure; I was mixed up. Is the little fellow asleep yonder your brother?”
“No, madame, he’s a poor little orphan, that Monsieur Auguste is taking care of.”
“The deuce! does Auguste do that kind of thing? That’s very fine of him, and I am glad to hear it; it gives him a higher place in my esteem.—And you want to see Auguste, do you?”
“Yes, madame; Coco’s father has just died, and I wanted to consult Monsieur Dalville.”
“What have you got in that basket?”
“Some little presents from our place—eggs and chickens, and some cake that my aunt made herself.”
“Oh! I’m awfully fond of village-made cake! Will you let me taste it, my young village maid?”
Denise would have preferred to present the cake untouched to Auguste; but she dared not refuse Mademoiselle Virginie, who instantly opened the basket and broke off a big piece, which she proceeded to eat, continuing the conversation meanwhile.
“I’m very much afraid, my dear, that you’ve come here for nothing.”