Here Dagobert coughed two or three times, stooped down, and appeared to be seeking on the ground the little red and blue check-handkerchief spread over his knees.  He remained thus bent for some seconds, and, when he raised himself, he drew his hand across his moustache.

“How well father knows you!”

“How rightly has he guessed that you would love us!”

“Well, well, children; pass over that!—­Let’s come to the part where the general speaks of my little Agricola, and of Gabriel, my wife’s adopted child.  Poor woman! when I think that in three months perhaps—­but come, child, read, read,” added the old soldier, wishing to conceal his emotion.

“I still hope against hope, my dear Eva, that these pages will one day reach you, and therefore I wish to insert in them all that can be interesting to Dagobert.  It will be a consolation to him, to have some news of his family.  My father, who is still foreman at Mr. Hardy’s, tells me that worthy man has also taken into his house the son of old Dagobert.  Agricola works under my father, who is enchanted with him.  He is, he tells me, a tall and vigorous lad, who wields the heavy forge hammer as if it were a feather, and is light-spirited as he is intelligent and laborious.  He is the best workman on the establishment; and this does not prevent him in the evening, after his hard day’s work, when he returns home to his mother, whom he truly loves, from making songs and writing excellent patriotic verses.  His poetry is full of fire and energy; his fellow-workmen sing nothing else, and his lays have the power to warm the coldest and the most timid hearts.”

“How proud you must be of your son, Dagobert,” said Rose, in admiration; “he writes songs.”

“Certainly, it is all very fine—­but what pleases me best is, that he is good to his mother, and that he handles the hammer with a will.  As for the songs, before he makes a ‘Rising of the People,’ or a ‘Marseillaise,’ he will have had to beat a good deal of iron; but where can this rascally sweet Agricola have learned to make songs at all?—­No doubt, it was at school, where he went, as you will see, with his adopted brother Gabriel.”

At this name of Gabriel, which reminded them of the imaginary being whom they called their guardian angel, the curiosity of the young girls was greatly excited.  With redoubled attention, Blanche continued in these words: 

“The adopted brother of Agricola, the poor deserted child whom the wife of our good Dagobert so generously took in, forms, my father tells me, a great contrast with Agricola; not in heart, for they have both excellent hearts; but Gabriel is as thoughtful and melancholy as Agricola is lively, joyous, and active.  Moreover, adds my father, each of them, so to speak, has the aspect, which belongs to his character.  Agricola is dark, tall, and strong, with a gay and bold air; Gabriel, on the contrary, is weak, fair, timid as a girl, and his face wears an expression of angelic mildness.”