“Well done, Leontine!” exclaimed De la Pailleterie; “that is the seventh chapter I have composed since morning. Are you fatigued, my child?”
“Very—very weary,” replied the voice, in a melancholy cadence.
“You shall have rest soon. Come hither. Do you see me?”
“Ah! you are very cruel!”
“I understand. Cease to be fatigued—I will it!”
“Ah! thanks, thanks!”
“Do you see me now?”
“I do. Oh, how handsome!”
The Marquis caressed his whiskers.