“Seeing him in good condition, but wet from head to foot, mother Brazon lifted him up by one arm, and pulling up his frock, administered a spanking which considerably augmented the loudness of the little boy’s shrieks. I was indignant. It appears that I was wrong. I have since heard it said that, medicinally, the maternal treatment was admirably suited to the occasion. Is that true, doctor?”
“Quite true,” answered the doctor, laughing.
“With all this going on, I was scarcely contented; on the one hand, I was beginning to shiver with cold, and on the other, for the first time in my life, I found myself with strangers far away from the remainder of my clothes, and I had a terrible fear lest Madame Brazon should profit by the occasion to administer to me (otherwise than on my ears) the same treatment she had so recently applied to her own son, and which the doctor, no doubt, would have approved. But these two exercises had been sufficient to calm the good woman.
“We had no sooner entered the house than she proved herself a loving mother to little Auguste, and very kind to me. Quick as a wink she undressed us both entirely, and bundled us both, in spite of our resistance, between the white sheets of her big bed.
“Three minutes later she made us each drink a glass of sugared wine—very hot—which put Auguste in an extremely jubilant frame of mind. I could not share it. The worst was perhaps over. All was finished on our side of the river, but that which was soon going to pass on the other side began to occupy my mind. I thought alternately of papa, of mamma, of my uncle, of my wet clothes, of the two boxes on my ears, of the boat, and of aunt Marie. All this was very complicated for a childish brain, already confused. Little Auguste, searching for a warm place, had curled up in my arms and gone to sleep. Scarcely knowing it, I followed his example, and became unconscious in the middle of my sad reflections. It seems they let us sleep nearly two hours. When I awoke and found myself in that room and in that bed, and felt the head of a chubby little boy on my shoulder, I was, at first, much astonished. I opened my eyes without daring to move. But soon my memory returned, I remembered everything, and cried, ‘Papa! papa!’
“‘Present!’ replied my father. He had been there by my bedside,—my dear father,—for one hour, and my darling mother was there also. Aunt Sister Marie had been unable to leave, or she would have been there, too.
“Madame Brazon, it appears, had at length succeeded in recognizing in the small gentleman so scantily clad, whose ears she had so lately boxed, the little boy she had often seen in the garden across the river, and to explain the enigma, she had sent a neighbor to uncle Antoine’s. It had suddenly interrupted the game of chess. My father arrived soon after, bringing with him my uncle’s doctor. The doctor, after looking at the pretty picture we made in Madame Brazon’s bed, had said, ‘Let them sleep.’
“While waiting for us to wake up, father had sent to town for dry clothes; my mother had brought them herself. When I was dressed, my father took me between his knees and said to me: