"Yes, when he goes to the opera, and he often goes, he describes to me the singing and tells me about the dresses of the ladies.Oh! I would I were cured for the sake of my father, who lives solely for me as Ilive by him and for him, and then for my son, to whom I would fain be a real mother.Ah! monsieur, what blessed beings my old father and my good son are! I should also like to recover so as to hear Lablache, Rubini, Tamburini, Grisi, and 'I Puritani.' But--""Come, come, my child, be calm! If we talk music we are lost!" said the old man, smiling.
That smile, which rejuvenated his face, was evidently a perpetual deception to the sick woman.
"Yes, yes, I'll be good," said Vanda, with a petulant little air; "but when will you give me an accordion?"The portable instrument then called by that name had just been invented.It could, if desired, be placed at the edge of a bedstead, and only needed the pressure of a foot to give out the sounds of an organ.This instrument, in its highest development, was equal to a piano; but the cost of it was three hundred francs.Vanda, who read the newspapers and reviews, knew of the existence of the instrument, and had wished for one for the last two months.
"Yes, madame, you shall have one," said Godefroid, after exchanging a look with the old man."A friend of mine who is just starting for Algiers has a fine instrument and I will borrow it of him.Before buying, you had better try one.It is possible that the powerful, vibrating tones may be too much for you.""Can I have it to-morrow?" she said, with the wilfulness of a creole.
"To-morrow?" said Monsieur Bernard, "that is soon; besides, to-morrow is Sunday.""Ah--" she exclaimed, looking at Godefroid, who fancied he could see a soul hovering in the air as he admired the ubiquity of Vanda's glances.