I wish--
Bah! I am forgetting----"
"What did you say, papa?"
"Nothing," he answered; "I think I was forgetting where I was.
How dark it is growing! you must light the candles soon. I
must look at you again; you know I want to see your eyes, and
smile, and pretty hair once more. And you, my little one, you
will not forget my face? Don't cry, don't cry," he said, with
a sudden pain in his voice; "I cannot bear it. I have never
made you cry before: have I, my child?"
"Never, never," she said, stifling her tears desperately.
"You must think of me sometimes when you are grown up," he
went on in his feeble voice, harping still on the same
subject. "You will have no money, my poor little one--if it had
not been for that devil Legros--but it is too late to think of
that now. Well, I think you will have beauty, and that will go
far even if you have no _dot_, and I should like you to marry
well. But when you have a husband, and are rich, perhaps, you
must still think sometimes of the days when you were a little
girl, and had a papa who loved no one in the world so much as
his little Madelon.
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