Notwithstanding this bit of philosophy, I read Catharine's letter slowly to him. When I had ended, he took it, and for a long time gazed at it dreamily, and then handed it back, saying:
"There! Josephel. She is a good girl, and a sensible one, and will never marry any one but you."
"Do you really think so?"
"Yes; you may rely upon her; she will never marry a Passauf. I would rather distrust the emperor than such a girl."
I could have embraced Zunnier for these words; but I said:
"I have received a bill for one hundred francs. Now for some white wine of Alsace. Let us try to get out."
"That is well thought of," said he, twisting his mustache and putting his pipe in his pocket. "I do not like to mope in a garden when there are taverns outside. We must get permission."
We arose joyfully and went to the hospital, when the letter-carrier, coming out, stopped Zunnier, saying:
"Are you Christian Zunnier, of the second artillerie-à-cheval?"
"I have that honor, monsieur the carrier."