, how I should like to have one of them--that one
there--the little bit of a one!"

Springing down from the carriage, she ran toward the children, took one
of the two youngest--that of the Tuvaches, and lifting it up in her
arms, she kissed him passionately on his dirty cheeks, on his frowzy
hair daubed with earth, and on his little hands, which he swung
vigorously, to get rid of the caresses which displeased him.

Then she got up into the carriage again, and drove off at a lively trot.
But she returned the following week, and seating herself on the ground,
took the youngster in her arms, stuffed him with cakes, gave bon-bons to
all the others, and played with them like a young girl, while the
husband waited patiently in the frail carriage.

She returned again; made the acquaintance of the parents, and reappeared
every day with her pockets full of dainties and of pennies.

Her name was Madame Henri d'Hubieres.

One morning, on arriving, her husband alighted with her, and without
stopping with the children, who now knew her well, she entered the
peasants' cottage.

They were busy splitting wood to cook the soup. They straightened up,
much surprised, offered chairs, and waited expectantly.

Then the woman, in a broken, trembling voice, began:

"My good people, I have come to see you, because I should like--I should
like to take--your little boy with me----"

The country people, too stupefied to think, did not answer.

She recovered her breath, and continued: "We are alone, my husband and
I. We should keep it--Are you willing?"

The peasant woman began to understand. She asked:

"You want to take Charlot from us? Oh, no, indeed!"

Then M. d'Hubieres intervened:

"My wife has not explained clearly what she means. We wish to adopt him,
but he will come back to see you. If he turns out well, as there is
every reason to expect, he will be our heir. If we, perchance, should
have children, he will share equally with them; but if he should not
reward our care, we should give him, when he comes of age, a sum of
twenty thousand francs, which shall be deposited immediately in his
name, with a notary. As we have thought also of you, we should pay you,
until your death, a pension of one hundred francs a month. Have you
quite understood me?"

The woman had arisen, furious.

"You want me to sell you Charlot? Oh, no, that's not the sort of thing
to ask of a mother! Oh, no! That would be an abomination!"

The man, gra