sembling the roar of
a famished animal; then, hurrying back to her mattress, she threw
herself upon it, exclaiming:

"Hungry! hungry! hungry!"

"Well, gentlemen," said the poor, half-crazed artisan, with haggard
looks, "you see all that is left me of my poor child, my Adele,--we
called her Adele, she was so pretty she deserved a pretty name; and she
was just four years old last night. Ay, and this morning even I kissed
her, and she put her little arms about my neck and embraced me,--oh, so
fondly! And now, you see, gentlemen, perhaps you will tell me there is
one mouth less to feed, and that I am lucky to get rid of one,--you
think so, don't you?"

The unfortunate man's reason was fast giving way under the many shocks
he had received.

"Morel," cried Madeleine, "give me my child! I will have her!"

"To be sure," replied the lapidary; "that is only fair. Everybody ought
to secure their own happiness!" So saying, he laid the child in its
mother's arms, and uttering a groan, such as comes only from a breaking
heart, he covered his face with his hands; while Madeleine, almost as
frenzied as her husband, placed the body of her child amid the straw of
her wretched bed, watching it with frantic jealousy, while the other
children, kneeling around her, filled the air with their wailings.

The bailiffs, who had experienced a temporary feeling of compassion at
the death of the child, soon fell back into their accustomed brutality.

"I say, friend," said Malicorne to the lapidary, "your child is dead,
and there's an end of it! I dare say you think it a misfortune; but
then, you see, we are all mortal, and neither we nor you can bring it
back to life. So come along with us; for, to tell you the truth, we're
upon the scent of a spicy one we must nab to-day. So don't delay us,
that's a trump!"

But Morel heard not a word he said. Entirely preoccupied with his own
sad thoughts, the bewildered man kept up a kind of wandering delivery of
his own afflicting ideas.

"My poor Adele!" murmured he; "we must now see about laying you in the
grave, and watching by her little corpse till the people come to carry
it to its last home,--to lay it in the ground. But how are we to do that
without a coffin,--and where shall we get one? Who will give me credit
for one? Oh, a very small coffin will do,--only for a little creature of
four years of age! And we shall want no bearers! Oh, no, I can carry it
under my arm. Ha! ha! ha!" added he, wit