Since he was not able to, he
displayed in a huge yawn, a terrifying set of teeth, worthy of a
wild beast. They were horrid animals, I assure you, not the kind
you would like to meet loose on a lonely road.
Fortunately some pretty little witsits, with black faces, no
bigger than your fist, and white and grey ruffles, whistling like
blackbirds, by their pretty tricks did away with the bad
impression made by these sinister neighbours.
[Illustration: Cake Walk; Mother Etienne's dream.]
This one was a regular little mother, that one had just been
sweeping out the yard, another was the living image of the Count's
servant when he followed his master on his walks, carrying under
his arm a shawl or a sunshade. An orang-outang, an elderly
peasant, whose four big hands were clasped, suggested to her how
useful it would be to have a helper like that to milk the cows. It
would go twice as fast with four hands. What a lot of precious
time it would save.
And many other queer things came into her head. That yowling dog,
that sharp-faced rabbit, are the type who come on fair-days to cry
their papers, sell their toys, etc.--a noisy, rough crew. Goodness
gracious! Where was Mother Etienne's absurd dream leading her?
She, whose life was always so calm, and who, to tell the truth,
with Germaine, were rather like the two little monkeys at the
corner of the fire-place, hands clasped under their aprons, feet
on foot-warmers, and little pointed handkerchiefs on their heads.
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