'Oh, come away!
do, Madame--I'm frightened.'
'No, on the contrary, sit here by me. It is very odd, you will think, ma
chere--un gout bizarre, vraiment!--but I love very much to be near to the
dead people--in solitary place like this. I am not afraid of the dead
people, nor of the ghosts. 'Av you ever see a ghost, my dear?'
'Do, Madame, _pray_ speak of something else.'
'Wat little fool! But no, you are not afraid. I 'av seen the ghosts myself.
I saw one, for example, last night, shape like a monkey, sitting in the
corner, with his arms round his knees; very wicked, old, old man his face
was like, and white eyes so large.'
'Come away, Madame! you are trying to frighten me,' I said, in the childish
anger which accompanies fear. Madame laughed an ugly laugh, and said--
'Eh bien! little fool!--I will not tell the rest if you are really
frightened; let us change to something else.'
'Yes, yes! oh, do--pray do.'
'Wat good man is your father!'
'Very--the kindest darling. I don't know why it is, Madame, I am so afraid
of him, and never could tell him how much I love him.'
This confidential talking with Madame, strange to say, implied no
confidence; it resulted from fear--it was deprecatory.
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