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Cousin Hans received the impression that he was trying to snap his fingers; and presently Ola said, slowly, and clearly, in his monotonous and unsympathetic speaking voice: "Hope's clad in April green trommelommelom, trommelommelom;" you see, poor fellow, he could not sing. It was by the merest chance that Monsieur and Madame Tousseau came to Saint-Germain-en-Laye in the early days of September.
"Well, Monsieur Whitmore!" cried Madame Tousseau, gayly, "here at last you've found a place where you can't possibly help enjoying yourself." "For my part," answered the American, slowly, "I find no enjoyment in seeing the people who haven't money making fools of themselves to please the people who have." "Oh, you're incorrigible!" laughed the young wife.
It seemed as though it had been well thought out in advance as though a whole series of impressions had condensed themselves into these words. Perhaps that was why his answer sank so deep into the minds of Monsieur and Madame Tousseau. Neither of them thought it a particularly brilliant remark; on the contrary, they agreed that it must be miserable to take so gloomy a view of things.
Two vigorous strokes with its pinions would bring the rope up taut, and it would fall back upon the sward. There it would lie by the hour, then shake itself and clamber up to its little perch again. When it turned its head to watch the happy pair, Madame Tousseau burst into a fit of laughter at its melancholy mien.
Each aroma seems to have its amateurs, for there are always people crowding round; but the majority stroll up and down the long street of booths. Monsieur and Madame Tousseau had plunged into all the fun of the fair. They had gambled in the most lucrative lottery in Europe, presided over by a man who excelled in dubious witticisms.
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