"He won't mind, and she will give us a good _dejeuner_. I
could eat a horse."
"And I a carriage! But why go to a museum for breakfast?"
"It is a _cafe_--old Malaumain is a collector."
"Of what?"
"Of everything. From bird's eggs to souvenirs of Guillaume, whom he
adores. The house is supposed to have been at one time lived in by the
Conqueror, and old Malaumain has made busts of him, and pictures, and
all kinds of things. He will talk to you about _l'Entente cordiale_ and
the crossing of the two races, and the Friendly Hand, until you muzzle
him. He is a dear old chap, and his wife is a very excellent cook. I
used to run away when I was a little kid visiting _grand-mere_, and go
and beg her for sandcakes with the Conqueror's head done on top in
sugar!"
Madame Malaumain, contrary to expectation, appeared at an upper window
at the first knock, came down in a neat white _peignoir_, and after a
quick stare at Theo held out her hand.
"_C'est le petit Joyselle_," she said cordially, "_avec sa future?_"
"Yes--but if you don't give us breakfast, she will die, and then where
shall I be?" he answered, laughing. "How is M. Malaumain?"
"He is well, thank you, M.
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