"Calm down, children.
Don''t topple over the edifice.
That''s fine, first-class thunder; all right.
That''s no slouch of a streak of lightning.
Bravo for the good God!
Deuce take it!
It''s almost as good as it is at the Ambigu."
That said, he restored order in the netting, pushed the two children gently down on the bed, pressed their knees, in order to stretch them out at full length, and exclaimed:--
"Since the good God is lighting his candle, I can blow out mine. Now, babes, now, my young humans, you must shut your peepers. It''s very bad not to sleep.
It''ll make you swallow the strainer, or, as they say, in fashionable society, stink in the gullet. Wrap yourself up well in the hide!
I''m going to put out the light. Are you ready?"
"Yes," murmured the elder, "I''m all right.
I seem to have feathers under my head."
"People don''t say `head,''" cried Gavroche, "they say `nut''."
The two children nestled close to each other, Gavroche finished arranging them on the mat, drew the blanket up to their very ears, then repeated, for the third time, his injunction in the hieratical tongue:--
"Shut your peepers!"
And he snuffed out his tiny light.
Hardly had the light been extinguished, when a peculiar trembling began to affect the netting under which the three children lay.◎本◎作◎品◎由◎思◎兔◎在◎線◎閱◎讀◎網◎友◎整◎理◎上◎傳◎