And Dr. Seraskier! I place myself between him and what he is looking at,
so that he seems to be looking straight at me; but with a far-away look
in his eyes, as is only natural. Presently something amuses him, and he
smiles, and his eyes crinkle up as his daughter's used to do when she
was a woman, and his majestic face becomes as that of an angel,
like hers.
_L'ange du sourire!_
And my gay, young, light-hearted father, with his vivacity and
rollicking laugh and eternal good-humor! He is just like a boy to me
now, le beau Pasquier! He has got a new sling of his own invention; he
pulls it out of his pocket, and slings stones high over the tree-tops
and far away out of sight--to the joy of himself and everybody else--and
does not trouble much as to where they will fall.
My mother is young enough now to be my daughter; it is as a daughter, a
sweet, kind, lovely daughter, that I love her now--a happily-married
daughter with a tall, handsome husband who yodles divinely and slings
stones, and who has presented me with a grandson--_beau comme le
jour_--for whatever Peter Ibbetson may have been in his time, there is
no gainsaying the singular comeliness of little Gogo Pasquier.
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