not the sort of thing
to ask of a mother! Oh, no! That would be an abomination!"

The man, grave and deliberate, said nothing; but approved of what his
wife said by a continued nodding of his head.

Madame d'Hubieres, in dismay, began to weep; turning to her husband,
with a voice full of tears, the voice of a child used to having all its
wishes gratified, she stammered:

"They will not do it, Henri, they will not do it."

Then he made a last attempt: "But, my friends, think of the child's
future, of his happiness, of--"

The peasant woman, however, exasperated, cut him short:

"It's all considered! It's all understood! Get out of here, and don't
let me see you again--the idea of wanting to take away a child like
that!"

Madame d'Hubieres remembered that there were two children, quite little,
and she asked, through her tears, with the tenacity of a wilful and
spoiled woman:

"But is the other little one not yours?"

Father Tuvache answered: "No, it is our neighbors'. You can go to them
if you wish." And he went back into his house, whence resounded the
indignant voice of his wife.

The Vallins were at table, slowly eating slices of bread which they
parsimoniously spread with a little rancid butter on a plate between the
two.

M. d'Hubieres recommenced his proposals, but with more insinuations,
more oratorical precautions, more shrewdness.

The two country people shook their heads, in sign of refusal, but when
they learned that they were to have a hundred francs a month, they
considered the matter, consulting one another by glances, much
disturbed. They kept silent for a long time, tortured, hesitating. At
last the woman asked: "What do you say to it, man?" In a weighty tone he
said: "I say that it's not to be despised."

Madame d'Hubieres, trembling with anguish, spoke of the future of their
child, of his happiness, and of the money which he could give them
later.

The peasant asked: "This pension of twelve hundred francs, will it be
promised before a lawyer?"

M. d'Hubieres responded: "Why, certainly, beginning with to-morrow."

The woman, who was thinking it over, continued:

"A hundred francs a month is not enough to pay for depriving us of
the child. That child would be working in a few years; we must have a
hundred and twenty francs."

Tapping her foot with impatience, Madame d'Hubieres granted it at once,
and, as she wished to carry off the child with her, she gave a hundred
francs extra,