Nevertheless, when she beheld her captain enter, she thought him so handsome, his doublet so new, his baldrick so shining, and his air so impassioned, that she blushed with pleasure. The noble damsel herself was more charming than ever. Her magnificent blond hair was plaited in a ravishing manner, she was dressed entirely in that sky blue which becomes fair people so well, a bit of coquetry which she had learned from Colombe, and her eyes were swimming in that languor of love which becomes them still better.
Phœbus, who had seen nothing in the line of beauty, since he left the village maids of Queue-en-Brie, was intoxicated with Fleur-de-Lys, which imparted to our officer so eager and gallant an air, that his peace was immediately made. Madame de Gondelaurier herself, still maternally seated in her big armchair, had not the heart to scold him. As for Fleur-de-Lys's reproaches, they expired in tender cooings.
The young girl was seated near the window still embroidering her grotto of Neptune. The captain was leaning over the back of her chair, and she was addressing her caressing reproaches to him in a low voice.
"What has become of you these two long months, wicked man?"
"I swear to you," replied Phœbus, somewhat embarrassed by the question, "that you are beautiful enough to set an archbishop to dreaming."
She could not repress a smile.
"Good, good, sir. Let my beauty alone and answer my question. A fine beauty, in sooth!"
"Well, my dear cousin, I was recalled to the garrison."
"And where is that, if you please? and why did not you come to say farewell?"
"At Queue-en-Brie."
Phœbus was delighted with the first question, which helped him to avoid the second.
"But that is quite close by, monsieur. Why did you not come to see me a single time?"
Here Phœbus was rather seriously embarrassed.
"Because—the service—and then, charming cousin, I have been ill."
