? She mek no complain,
heh?"

"That isn't what her father wanted, and it isn't what you promised him."

Pierre looked thoughtful; his face softened slightly.

"We have no children, you and me. We have honly Elise, one li'l girl,
_la bonne_ Elise. You wan' mek me give up _la bonne_ Elise? _P'quoi?_"
His face blazed again as he looked up wrathfully. "You wan' mek her go
to school! _P'quoi?_ So she learn mek _teedle, teedle_ on ze piano? So
she learn speak gran'? So she tink of me, Pierre, one li'l Frenchmens,
not good enough for her, for mek her shame wiz her gran' friends? Heh?
Who mek ze care for ze li'l babby? Who mek her grow up strong? Heh? You
mek her go school. You mek ze gran' dam-zelle. You mek her go back to
her pip'l. You mek me, Pierre, you, grow hol' wiz noddings? Hall ze res'
ze time wiz no li'l Elise? How you like li'l Elise go away and mek ze
marry, and w'en she have li'l children, she say to her li'l children,
'_Mes enfants, voila!_ Pierre and Madame, _tres bon_ Pierre and Madame,'
and _les petits enfants_ mek big eyes at Pierre and Madame and li'l
Elise? She say, '_Pauvres enfants_, Pierre and Madame will not hurt you.
_Bon_ Pierre! _Bonne_ Madame!'" Pierre made a gesture of deprecating
pity.

Madame was touched to the quick. Starting tears dimmed the heavy eyes.
Had she not thought of all this a thousand times? If Pierre cared so
much for li'l Elise how much more reason had she to care? Li'l Elise had
been the only bright spot in her dreary life, yet she was firm. Elise
had been very dear to her in the past, but her duty was plain. Her voice
was gentler.

"Elise is not ours, Pierre. It is harder to do now what we ought to have
done long ago."

Pierre rose and walked excitedly back and forth. He was speaking half to
himself, half to Madame.

"Sixtin year 'go li'l Elise mammy die. Sixtin year! She no say, 'Madame
Marie, tek my li'l babby back Eas' to my friend, _hein_? No. She say,
'Madame Marie, my poor li'l babby ain' got no mammy no mo'. Tek good
care my poor li'l babby.' Then she go die. We mek good care of ze li'l
Elise, me and you, heh? We sen' away Elise? _Sacre non!_ Nevaire!"
Pierre stopped, and looked fiercely at Madame.

"Yes," answered Madame. "Her mammy asked me to care for her little baby,
but it was for her father. When her father died he made you promise to
give her to her friends. Don't I know how hard it is?" Her tears were
flowing freely now. "Every year we said, 'She is yet t