“This reminds me again, young ladies, that you were whispering all along the road this morning; and that when I spoke of white, you answered black.”

“Yes, Dagobert, we were thinking of Gabriel.”

“And, ever since, we love him as well as he loves us.”

“But he is only one between both of you!”

“Was not our mother one between us?”

“And you, Dagobert—­are you not also one for us both?”

“True, true!  And yet, do you know, I shall finish by being jealous of that Gabriel?”

“You are our friend by day—­he is our friend by night.”

“Let’s understand it clearly.  If you talk of him all day, and dream of him all night, what will there remain for me?”

“There will remain for you your two orphans, whom you love so much,” said Rose.

“And who have only you left upon earth,” added Blanche, in a caressing tongue.

“Humph! humph! that’s right, coax the old man over, Nay, believe me, my children,” added the soldier, tenderly, “I am quite satisfied with my lot.  I can afford to let you have your Gabriel.  I felt sure that Spoil sport and myself could take our rest in quiet.  After all, there is nothing so astonishing in what you tell me; your first dream struck your fancy, and you talked so much about it that you had a second; nor should I be surprised if you were to see this fine fellow a third time.”

“Oh, Dagobert! do not make a jest of it!  They are only dreams, but we think our mother sends them to us.  Did she not tell us that orphan children were watched over by guardian angels?  Well, Gabriel is our guardian angel; he will protect us, and he will protect you also.”

“Very kind of him to think of me; but you see, my dear children, for the matter of defence, I prefer the dog; he is less fair than your angel, but he has better teeth, and that is more to be depended on.”

“How provoking you are, Dagobert—­always jesting!”

“It is true; you can laugh at everything.”

“Yes, I am astonishingly gay; I laugh with my teeth shut, in the style of old Jovial.  Come, children, don’t scold me:  I know I am wrong.  The remembrance of your dear mother is mixed with this dream, and you do well to speak of it seriously.  Besides,” added he, with a grave air, “dreams will sometimes come true.  In Spain, two of the Empress’s dragoons, comrades of mine, dreamt, the night before their death, that they would be poisoned by the monks—­and so it happened.  If you continue to dream of this fair angel Gabriel, it is—­it is—­why, it is, because you are amused by it; and, as you have none too many pleasures in the daytime, you may as well get an agreeable sleep at night.  But, now, my children, I have also much to tell you; it will concern your mother; promise me not to be sad.”

“Be satisfied! when we think of her we are not sad, though serious.”