Onésime, deeply mortified and anxious to atone for his former blunder, persisted, nevertheless, and, lifting the cover of the urn, began to pour the water from the kettle with his right hand, while his left rested on the edge of the table. But unfortunately his eyes played him false as usual, and he began pouring the contents of the tea-kettle down one side of the urn, instead of into the opening, covering his left hand with boiling water and burning it frightfully. He manifested a truly heroic stoicism, however. But for the slight start caused by the sudden and intense suffering, he gave no sign, and, conscious now of the mistake he had made, finally managed to fill the urn, after which he said, gently: "The urn is filled, aunt. Shall I make the tea? Mademoiselle will take a cup, perhaps." "What! you have actually filled the urn without any fresh catastrophe? You really ought to have a leather medal, my dear," laughed his aunt. "Don't pay any attention to what she says, M. Onésime," interposed the young girl. "Your aunt takes such delight in teasing you that I feel it my duty to come to your assistance. And now will you be kind enough to give me a cup of tea?" "No, no, don't you dare to think of such a thing!" exclaimed the housekeeper, laughing. "You will be sure to break one of these pretty pink and white cups monsieur brought us the last time he came home." But Onésime gave the lie to his aunt's gloomy prognostications, by bringing the cup of tea to the young girl without spilling a drop, and was rewarded by a gentle "Thank you, M. Onésime," accompanied with her sweetest smile. But the sad, almost imploring expression in the young man's eyes, as he turned toward her, touched her deeply. "Alas!" she said to herself, "he does not even see that I am smiling at him. He always seems to be asking you to have patience with his infirmity." This thought grieved her so much that the older woman noticed the fact, and asked: "What is the matter, my child? You look sad." Hearing his aunt's words, Onésime turned anxiously to the young girl, as if trying to read the expression of her face, while she, embarrassed by the housekeeper's remark, answered: "You are mistaken, I am not in the least sad; but just now when you spoke of my father it reminded me that he ought to have reached home several days ago." "Surely you are not going to torment yourself about that, my child. Is this the first time your father has failed to arrive at the appointed time?" "It worries me, nevertheless."