The weariness and
suffering betrayed by the thin face and the clinging of the skin to
the bones, had in themselves a sort of charm.
"Good-evening, Pierquin," said Monsieur Claes.
Once more a husband and a father, he took his youngest child from his
wife's lap and tossed him in the air.
"See that little fellow!" he exclaimed to the notary. "Doesn't such a
pretty creature make you long to marry? Take my word for it, my dear
Pierquin, family happiness consoles a man for everything. Up, up!" he
cried, tossing Jean into the air; "down, down! up! down!"
The child laughed with all his heart as he went alternately to the
ceiling and down to the carpet. The mother turned away her eyes that
she might not betray the emotion which the simple play caused her,
--simple apparently, but to her a domestic revolution.
"Let me see how you can walk," said Balthazar, putting his son on the
floor and throwing himself on a sofa near his wife.
The child ran to its father, attracted by the glitter of the gold
buttons which fastened the breeches just above the slashed tops of his
boots.
"You are a darling!" cried Balthazar, kissing him; "you are a Claes,
you walk straight. Well, Gabriel, how is Pere Morillon?" he said to
his eldest son, taking him by the ear and twisting it. "Are you
struggling valiantly with your themes and your construing? have you
taken sharp hold of mathematics?"
Then he rose, and went up to the notary with the affectionate courtesy
that characterized him.
Pages:
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86