I have reopened my letter.

I hope you won't be astonished, my dear fellow, but--I have another

piece of news relating to Barbassou-Pasha.

The day before yesterday, while my uncle and I were chatting together,

as is our custom, before he went to bed, I observed that he yawned in

an unusual manner. I had remarked this symptom before, and I drew my own

conclusion from it, which was that overtaken once more by his

adventurous instincts, he was beginning to find life tedious in the

department of Le Gard,--he was longing for something or other, that was

certain! And I began ransacking my mind to find some new food upon which

he might exercise his all-devouring energy, when he said to me, just

before I left him-"By the bye, André, I have written to your aunt that I am returned. She

will probably arrive some time between now and the end of the week."

"Ah!" I replied; "well, uncle, that's capital! I shall be delighted to

have our family life back again."

"Yes, the house will seem really furnished then," he continued. "Well,

good night, my boy!"

"Good night, uncle."

Then I left him.

Now, although this legitimate conjugal desire of my uncle's was quite

rational on his part, you may nevertheless imagine that I went to bed

rather puzzled. Which of my aunts should I see arrive? My uncle had

acquainted me with this design in such an artless manner that it never

occurred to me to venture any question on the subject. I began therefore

to form conjectures based upon his present frame of mind, as to which of

his wives he had probably selected.

I commenced by setting aside my aunt Cora, of the Isle of Bourbon. It

was not very likely that the Pasha wanted to add to his past ontological

researches upon the coloured races. Excluding also my aunt Christina de

Postero, whose adventure with Jean Bonaffé had brought her into

disgrace, there remained only my aunt Lia Ben Lévy, my aunt Gretchen Van

Cloth, and my aunt Eudoxie de Cornalis, so that the question was now

considerably narrowed. Still I must confess that it was not much use my

setting all my powers of induction to work, taking as my premises the

captain's age, his present tastes, his plans, &c. All I succeeded in

doing was to lose myself in a maze of affirmations and contradictions

from which I could find no way out. The best thing to be done was to

wait. So I waited.




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