whom Mathieu had previously espied, and
whose story, according to Norine, was so sadly pathetic.

Victoire ceased sewing and raised her head. She was a servant girl by
calling, one of those unlucky creatures who are overtaken by trouble
when they have scarce arrived in the great city from their native
village. "Well," said she, "it's quite certain that one won't be able
to dawdle in bed, and that one won't have warm milk given one to drink
before getting up. But, all the same, it isn't lively to see nothing but
that big gray wall yonder from the window. And, besides, one can't go on
forever doing nothing."

Norine laughed and jerked her head, as if she were not of this opinion.
Then, as her little sisters embarrassed her, she wished to get rid of
them.

"And so, my pussies," said she, "you say that papa's still angry with
me, and that I'm not to go back home."

"Oh!" cried Cecile, "it's not so much that he's angry, but he says that
all the neighbors would point their fingers at him if he let you come
home. Besides, Euphrasie keeps his anger up, particularly since she's
arranged to get married."

"What! Euphrasie going to be married? You didn't tell me that."

Norine looked very vexed, particularly when her sisters, speaking both
together, told her that the future husband was Auguste Benard, a jovial
young mason who lived on the floor above them. He had taken a fancy to
Euphrasie, though she had no good looks, and was as thin, at eighteen,
as a grasshopper. Doubtless, however, he considered her strong and
hard-working.

"Much good may it do them!" said Norine spitefully. "Why, with her evil
temper, she'll be beating him before six months are over. You can just
tell mamma that I don't care a rap for any of you, and that I need
nobody. I'll go and look for work, and I'll find somebody to help me.
So, you hear, don't you come back here. I don't want to be bothered by
you any more."

At this, Irma, but eight years old and tender-hearted, began to cry.
"Why do you scold us? We didn't come to worry you. I wanted to ask you,
too, if that baby's yours, and if we may kiss it before we go away."

Norine immediately regretted her spiteful outburst. She once more called
the girls her "little pussies," kissed them tenderly, and told them that
although they must run away now they might come back another day to see
her if it amused them. "Thank mamma from me for her oranges. And as for
the baby, well, you may look at it, but