Now the
charming girl caresses him. I am curious whether it is the dear
papa himself or the uncle, or, perhaps--Ah, the enviable mortal!
But no, it is quite impossible; he is at least forty years older
than she. See, that indeed must be his wife--an elderly lady, who
sits near him on the sofa, and who offers rusks to the young lady.
The old lady seems very dignified; but to whom does she go now? I
cannot see the person. An ear and a piece of a shoulder are all
that peep forth near the window. I cannot exactly take it amiss
that the respectable person turns his back to me; but that he
keeps the young lady a quarter of an hour standing before him,
lets her courtesy and offer her good things, does thoroughly
provoke me. It must be a lady--a man could not be so unpolite
towards this angelic being. But--or--now she takes the cup; and
now, oh, woe! a great man's hand grasps into the rusk-basket--the
savage! and how he helps himself--the churl! I should like to know
whether it is her brother,--he was perhaps hungry, poor fellow!
Now come in, one after the other, two lovely children, who are
like the sister. I wonder now, whether the good man with one ear
has left anything remaining. That most charming of girls, how she
caresses the little ones, and kisses them, and gives to them all
the rusks and the cakes that have escaped the fingers of Monsieur
Gobble. Now she has had herself, the sweet child! of the whole
entertainment, no more than me--the smell.
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