Monsieur, Madame, and Bebe -- V

to which he subjects them. The sole of the left boot was worn thin, and a little hole was threatening at the toe of the right. The laces, worn and slack, hung to the right a

oots, his playfellows, those with which he ascended sand hills and explored puddles. They were devoted to him, and shared his existence so closely that something of himself was met with again in them. I should have recognized them among a thousand; they had an e

abyish itself, and assumes that expression of

n seemed monstrous, heavy, coarse, ridiculous, with their heels. From their heavy and disabused air one

till asleep in the adjoining room; I felt them, I turned them over, I looked at them on all sides, and I found a delightful smile rise t

it is puerile and sublime, it can neither be analyzed nor expla

s cast the first stone at me

toe, reminded me of his plump little foot, and that a tho

nails, wriggling about, pulling at my beard, and

g in front of a good fire, I pulled

his hands lost in the sleeves, would wait with glittering ey

e teasings that excited his impatience and allowe

rm, waving his bare legs in the air. From his open mouth, in which two rows of shi

te, "Come, baby, come, my little angel, you will get cold . .

s at the sight of his fair-haired head, and flus

look at me

e. Good gracious

stood that

and healthy he is, our baby

s adorable; at l

thers who do not know how to be papas as often as possible, who do not know how to roll on the carpet, play at being a horse, pretend to be the great wolf, undress

of that happiness which is greatly calumniated and accused of not existing because we expect it to fall from heaven in a solid mass when it lie

earching around us and seeking in the corners; it

d glance rivetted on the horizon. It seems as though the present scorched their feet, and when you say to them, "

shall converse, there I shall drink delicious wine, there I s

d claim the price of their fatigue, the present, laughing

ays, and one should have a good understanding

you are a dup

t happiness, already dressed on a golden plate, and to play music during yo

after our cooking ourselves, and not insist that hea

and his moist, regular breathing fanned my hand. I thought of the ha

appy, and what a singular fancy that is of g

we would sit for hours by the

nal love, discover its causes, say 'I love my child because he is so and so, or so and so.' With the mother such analysis is impossible, she does not love her child because he is handsome or ugly, because he does or does not resemble her, has or has not her tastes. She loves him because sh

eart nor bowels, we are fearful savages. What you say is m

he seems to say, "It is he." She takes him without the slightest embarrassment, her movements are natural, she shows no awkwardness, and in her two twining arms the baby finds a place to fit him, and falls asleep contentedly in the nest created for him. It would be thought that woman serves a mysterious apprentic

ship to be served to t

ne to that

is firstborn, it must be acknowledged that he is

and thence bawls with all the force of his lungs. He expands more strength, poor man, in lifting up his child than he would in bursting a door op

meets nothing but misadventures; he must be captivated, captured, made to have

ther rises to the rank of corporal the

move-the "pa-pa" the little creature first murmurs. It is strange that the first w

the word that means, "I am yours, love me, give me a place in your heart, open your arms to me; you see I do not know much as yet, I ha

ate of flatteries, the sweetest of cares

lose. We were all in a circle around him, kneeling down to be on a level with him. They kept saying to him, "Say it again, dear,

d felt that two big tears

was a papa in earne