“Cousin, come here and let me present you to our excellent aunt.”
“One moment, pleathe,” said Cézarine, “until I get rid of thith mitherable dog of herth, that hath grabbed my cathmere. Oh! I know what the matter ith—day before yethterday I wrapped up a leg of mutton in it——”
Virginie coughed to drown Cézarine’s words, and the latter at last escaped from the dog and bestowed a regal salutation on Mère Fourcy.
“This is my cousin,” said Virginie, presenting her friend to Denise’s aunt. “I told her about your lovely niece, and she could not resist the desire to make her acquaintance and yours, venerable aunt; we left our hotels and climbed into the wretched chamber vessel called a stage, where we had no other company than a couple of old clowns who smelt of rancid butter. But when we are going to see people we like and esteem, we take a standing jump over all such little annoyances, don’t we, cousin?”
“Yeth, my dear,” Cézarine replied, walking like Semiramis.
“It’s very kind of you, madame,” said Mère Fourcy, “and we appreciate your courtesy. But you must have something to eat.”
“We have already dined à la fourchette, but we don’t like to decline.”
“For my part, I could eat all day long in the country,” said Cézarine.
The ladies entered the house, and while the table was being laid, Cézarine petted Coco.
“What a hanthome boy! what a fine profile!” she exclaimed. “He’ll look like Théodore. Ith he yourth, my beauty?”