Then she forgot about it.
It appeared quite natural to her that one should lose one's head about Virginia.
The two children were of equal importance; they were united in her heart and their fate was to be the same.
The chemist informed her that Victor's vessel had reached Havana.
He had read the information in a newspaper.
Felicite imagined that Havana was a place where people did nothing but smoke, and that Victor walked around among negroes in a cloud of tobacco.

Could a person, in case of need, return by land?
How far was it from Pont-l'Eveque?
In order to learn these things she questioned Monsieur Bourais.

He reached for his map and began some explanations concerning longitudes, and smiled with superiority at Felicite's bewilderment.

At last, he took his pencil and pointed out an imperceptible black point in the scallops of an oval blotch, adding: "There it is." She bent over the map; the maze of coloured lines hurt her eyes without enlightening her; and when Bourais asked her what puzzled her, she requested him to show her the house Victor lived in.

Bourais threw up his hands, sneezed, and then laughed uproariously; such ignorance delighted his soul; but Felicite failed to understand the cause of his mirth, she whose intelligence was so limited that she perhaps expected to see even the picture of her nephew! It was two weeks later that Liebard came into the kitchen at market-time, and handed her a letter from her brother-in-law.