kept the dogs. The priest took the old horse. The wagon is useful to
Chouquet, and with the money he has bought railroad stock. That is the
only deep, sincere love that I have ever known in all my life."

The doctor looked up. The marquise, whose eyes were full of tears, sighed
and said:

"There is no denying the fact, only women know how to love."

PIERROT

Mme. Lefevre was a country dame, a widow, one of these half peasants,
with ribbons and bonnets with trimming on them, one of those persons who
clipped her words and put on great airs in public, concealing the soul of
a pretentious animal beneath a comical and bedizened exterior, just as
the country-folks hide their coarse red hands in ecru silk gloves.

She had a servant, a good simple peasant, called Rose.

The two women lived in a little house with green shutters by the side of
the high road in Normandy, in the centre of the country of Caux. As they
had a narrow strip of garden in front of the house, they grew some
vegetables.

One night someone stole twelve onions. As soon as Rose became aware of
the theft, she ran to tell madame, who came downstairs in her woolen
petticoat. It was a shame and a disgrace! They had robbed her, Mme.
Lefevre! As there were thieves in the country, they might come back.

And the two frightened women examined the foot tracks, talking, and
supposing all sorts of things.

"See, they went that way! They stepped on the wall, they jumped into the
garden!"

And they became apprehensive for the future. How could they sleep in
peace now!

The news of the theft spread. The neighbor came, making examinations and
discussing the matter in their turn, while the two women explained to
each newcomer what they had observed and their opinion.

A farmer who lived near said to them:

"You ought to have a dog."

That is true, they ought to have a dog, if it were only to give the
alarm. Not a big dog. Heavens! what would they do with a big dog? He
would eat their heads off. But a little dog (in Normandy they say
"quin"), a little puppy who would bark.

As soon as everyone had left, Mme. Lefevre discussed this idea of a dog
for some time. On reflection she made a thousand objections, terrified at
the idea of a bowl full of soup, for she belonged to that race of
parsimonious country women who always carry centimes in their pocket to
give alms in public to beggars on the road and to put in the Sunday
collection plate.

Rose, who lo