But it was of no avail, he could not sleep, nor could he think of
anything else than what he had just said. He walked around the fire
twenty times, walked away and returned; at last, feeling as excited as
if he had swallowed a mouthful of gunpowder, he leaned against the tree
that sheltered the two children and watched them sleeping.
[Illustration: Chapter IX
_The child knelt on the girl's skirt, clasped his little hands, and
began to repeat his prayer with interest and fervently at first, for he
knew the beginning very well_.]
"I don't know why I never noticed that little Marie is the prettiest
girl in the province!" he thought. "She hasn't a great deal of color,
but her little face is as fresh as a wild rose! What a pretty mouth and
what a cunning little nose!--She isn't tall for her age, but she's built
like a little quail and light as a lark!--I don't know why they think
so much at home of a tall, stout, red-faced woman. My wife was rather
thin and pale, and she suited me above all others.--This girl is
delicate, but she's perfectly well and as pretty to look at as a white
kid! And what a sweet, honest way she has! how well you can read her
kind heart in her eyes, even when they are closed in sleep!--As for wit,
she has more than my dear Catherine had, I must admit, and one would
never be bored with her.
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