"Not the least in the world—only—"
"Only what? I hate these only's—out with it all!"
"My dear uncle, I've told you I know nothing about it—only I have seen his shepherdess."
"His shepherdess? You're laughing, Clotilde. Do you believe in shepherdesses at this time of day?"
"Yes, uncle—for I tell you I saw his shepherdess fall down in a faint on the side of the Lignon."
"The deuce you did? A shepherdess!—Hector in love with a shepherdess!"
"Yes, uncle; but a very pretty one, I assure you, in silk petticoat and corset of white satin."
The father was petrified. "What is the meaning of all this? It must be a very curious story. Bring me my fowling-piece and game-bag. Do you think, my dear Clotilde, that infernal boy has returned to his shepherdess?"
"Yes, uncle."
"Well—has the shepherdess any sheep?"