as if she were listening to him, all the facts without
forgetting a single detail, mentioning the most trivial matters with the
minuteness of a countryman. And the child still kept assailing him,
making kicks at his ankles.

When he came to the time at which his father had spoken about her, her
attention was caught by hearing her own name, and, uncovering her face
she said:

"Pardon me! I was not following you; I would like to know--If you did
not mind beginning over again."

He related everything at great length, with stoppages, breaks and
reflections of his own from time to time. She listened to him eagerly
now perceiving with a woman's keen sensibility all the sudden changes of
fortune which his narrative indicated, and trembling with horror, every
now and then, exclaiming:

"Oh, my God!"

The little fellow, believing that she had calmed down, ceased beating
Cesar, in order to catch his mother's hand, and he listened, too, as if
he understood.

When the narrative was finished, young Hautot continued:

"Now we will settle matters together in accordance with his wishes."

"Listen: I am well off he has left me plenty of means. I don't want you
to have anything to complain about--"

But she quickly interrupted him.

"Oh, Monsieur Cesar, Monsieur Cesar, not to-day. I am cut to the
heart--another time--another day. No, not to-day. If I accept, listen!
'Tis not for myself--no, no, no, I swear to you. 'Tis for the child.
Besides this provision will be put to his account."

Thereupon, Cesar scared, divined the truth, and stammering:

"So then--'tis his--the child?"

"Why, yes," she said.

And Hautot, Junior, gazed at his brother with a confused emotion,
intense and painful.

After a lengthened silence, for she had begun to weep afresh, Cesar,
quite embarrassed, went on:

"Well, then, Mam'zelle Donet I am going. When would you wish to talk
this over with me?"

She exclaimed:

"Oh! no, don't go! don't go. Don't leave me all alone with Emile. I
would die of grief. I have no longer anyone, anyone but my child. Oh!
what wretchedness, what wretchedness. Mousieur Cesar! Stop! Sit down
again. You will say something more to me. You will tell me what he was
doing over there all the week."

And Cesar resumed his seat, accustomed to obey.

She drew over another chair for herself in front of the stove, where the
dishes had all this time been simmering, took Emile upon her knees, and
asked Cesar a thousand quest