Fortinbras passed his arm round his daughter’s waist and drew her to him affectionately.
“She would spoil me too, if she had the chance. It is astonishing what capability there is in this little body.”
Félise, yielding to the caress, touched her father’s hair. “It’s like mamman, when she was young, n’est-ce pas?” She spoke in French which came more readily.
“Yes,” said Fortinbras, in a deep voice. “Just like your mother.”
“I try to resemble her. Tu sais, every time I feel I am lazy or missing my duties, I think of mamman, and I say, ‘No, I will not be unworthy of her.’ And so that gives me courage.”
“I’ve heard so much of Mrs. Fortinbras,” said Martin, “that I seem to know her intimately.”
A smile of great tenderness and sadness crept into Fortinbras’s eyes as he turned them on his d
