"Oh, my darling, I understand you," said the colonel, pressing her
hand as she assailed him with kisses.
"Hush!" whispered the young girl, glancing at her mother.
Dumay's rather sly and pregnant silence made Modeste somewhat uneasy
as to the upshot of his journey to Paris. She looked at him furtively
every now and then, without being able to get beneath his epidermis.
The colonel, like a prudent father, wanted to study the character of
his only daughter, and above all consult his wife, before entering on
a conference upon which the happiness of the whole family depended.
"To-morrow, my precious child," he said as they parted for the night,
"get up early, and we will go and take a walk on the seashore. We have
to talk about your poems, Mademoiselle de La Bastie."
His last words, accompanied by a smile, which reappeared like an echo
on Dumay's lips, were all that gave Modeste any clew to what was
coming; but it was enough to calm her uneasiness and keep her awake
far into the night with her head full of suppositions; this, however,
did not prevent her from being dressed and ready in the morning long
before the colonel.
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