And the call of the water was very gentle, and
it would be so pleasant to have to struggle no longer, to yield to
destiny, like a poor soft-hearted weakling who has lived too long.
Morange leant forward more and more, and in fancy could already feel the
sonorous river seizing him, when a gay young voice in the rear recalled
him to reality.
"What are you looking at, Monsieur Morange? Are there any big fishes
there?"
It was Hortense, looking extremely pretty, and tall already for her ten
years, whom a maid was conducting on a visit to some little friends at
Auteuil. And when the distracted accountant turned round, he remained for
a moment with trembling hands, and eyes moist with tears, at the sight of
that apparition, that dear angel, who had recalled him from so far.
"What! is it you, my pet!" he exclaimed. "No, no, there are no big
fishes. I think that they hide at the bottom because the water is so cold
in winter. Are you going on a visit? You look quite beautiful in that
fur-trimmed cloak!"
The little girl began to laugh, well pleased at being flattered and
loved, for her old friend's voice quivered with adoration.
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