once or twice, I merely presume, if one loves them--"_et ma femme est
tres gen-tille, elle est fran-caise et tres belle, tres, tres belle,
vraiment; elle n'est fas comme moi, un pet-it homme laide, ma femme est
grande et belle, elle sait bien lire et e-crire, vraiment; et notre fils
... vous dev-ez voir notre pet-it fils...._")--used to start up and cry
out, taking B. by one arm and me by the other,

"_Allons, mes amis! Chan-tons 'Quackquackquack_.'"

Whereupon we would join in the following song, which Monsieur Auguste had
taught us with great care, and whose renditions gave him unspeakable
delight:

"_Un canard, deployant chez elle
(Quackquackquack)
Il disait a sa canard fidele
(Quackquackquack)
Il disait (Quackquackquack)
Il faisait (Quackquackquack)
Quand_" (spelling mine)
"_finirons nos desseins,
Quack.
Quack.
Quack.
Quack."

I suppose I will always puzzle over the ecstasies of That Wonderful Duck.
And how Monsieur Auguste, the merest gnome of a man, would bend backwards
in absolute laughter at this song's spirited conclusion upon a note so
low as to wither us all.