ure, how it hurts! how it hurts!"

"Have you seen the doctor?" asked Caniveau.

"I should say not!"

"Why?"

The fear of the doctor seemed to cure Belhomme. He straightened up
without, however, dropping his handkerchief.

"What! You have money for them, for those loafers? He would have come
once, twice, three times, four times, five times! That means two
five-franc pieces, two five-franc pieces, for sure. And what would he
have done, the loafer, tell me, what would he have done? Can you tell
me?"

Caniveau was laughing.

"No, I don't know. Where are you going?"

"I am going to Havre, to see Chambrelan."

"Who is Chambrelan?"

"The healer, of course."

"What healer?"

"The healer who cured my father."

"Your father?"

"Yes, the healer who cured my father years ago."

"What was the matter with your father?"

"A draught caught him in the back, so that he couldn't move hand or
foot."

"Well, what did your friend Chambrelan do to him?"

"He kneaded his back with both hands as though he were making bread! And
he was all right in a couple of hours!"

Belhomme thought that Chambrelan must also have used some charm, but he
did not dare say so before the priest. Caniveau replied, laughing:

"Are you sure it isn't a rabbit that you have in your ear? He might have
taken that hole for his home. Wait, I'll make him run away."

Whereupon Caniveau, making a megaphone of his hands, began to mimic the
barking of hounds. He snapped, howled, growled, barked. And everybody in
the carriage began to roar, even the schoolmaster, who, as a rule, never
ever smiled.

However, as Belhomme seemed angry at their making fun of him, the priest
changed the conversation and turning to Rabot's big wife, said:

"You have a large family, haven't you?"

"Oh, yes, Monsieur le cure--and it's a pretty hard matter to bring
them up!"

Rabot agreed, nodding his head as though to say: "Oh, yes, it's a hard
thing to bring up!"

"How many children?"

She replied authoritatively in a strong, clear voice:

"Sixteen children, Monsieur le cure, fifteen of them by my husband!"

And Rabot smiled broadly, nodding his head. He was responsible for
fifteen, he alone, Rabot! His wife said so! Therefore there could be no
doubt about it. And he was proud!

And whose was the sixteenth? She didn't tell. It was doubtless the first.
Perhaps everybody knew, for no one was surprised. Even Caniveau kept mum.

But Belhomme began to moan again: