This little episode which had caused Jean’s modesty such a rude, yet sweet trial, had brought him exquisite joy, the Abbe bore his godson such affection. The most tender father never loved more warmly the dearest of his children. When the old Cure looked at the young officer, he often said to himself:
“Heaven has been too kind; I am a priest, and I have a son!”
The Abbe sank into a very agreeable reverie; he felt himself at home, he felt himself too much at home; by degrees his ideas became hazy and confused, reverie became drowsiness, drowsiness became slumber, the disaster was soon complete, irreparable; the Cure slept, and slept profoundly. This marvellous dinner, and the two or three glasses of champagne may have had something to do with the catastrophe.
Jean perceived nothing; he had forgotten the promise made to his godfather. And why had he forgotten it? Because Mrs. Scott and Miss Percival had thought proper to put their feet on the footstools, placed in front of their great wicker garden-chairs filled with cushions; then they had thrown themselves lazily back in their chairs, and their muslin skirts had become raised a little, a very little, but yet enough to display four little feet, the lines of which showed very distinctly and clearly beneath two pretty clouds of white lace. Jean looked at these little feet, and asked himself this question:
While he was trying to solve this problem, Bettina, all at once, said to him in a low voice:
“How your fault?” asked Mrs. Scott, also in a low voice.
“Yes; my godfather rises at daybreak, and goes to bed very early; he told me to be sure and prevent his falling asleep; when Madame de Longueval was here he very often had a nap after dinner. You have shown him so much kindness that he has fallen back into his old habits.”
“And he is perfectly right,” said Bettina, “do not make a noise, do not wake him.”
“You are too good, Miss Percival, but the air is getting a little fresh.”
“Ah! that is true, he might catch cold. Stay, I will go and fetch a wrap for him.”
“I think, Miss Percival, it would be better to try and wake him skilfully, so that he should not suspect that you had seen him asleep.”
“Let me do it,” said Bettina. “Susie, let us sing together, very softly at first, then we will raise our voices little by little, let us sing.”