for Sunday after next, at
Janville."

But there was still no answer, for just then a servant came to say that
a woman with an infant in her arms desired to see Madame. And Beauchene,
having recognized the wife of Moineaud, the fitter, bade her come in.
Boutan, who had now risen, was prompted by curiosity to remain a little
longer.

La Moineaude, short and fat like her husband, was a woman of about
forty, worn out before her time, with ashen face, pale eyes, thin faded
hair, and a weak mouth which already lacked many teeth. A large family
had been too much for her; and, moreover, she took no care of herself.

"Well, my good woman," Constance inquired, "what do you wish with me?"

But La Moineaude remained quite scared by the sight of all those people
whom she had not expected to find there. She said nothing. She had hoped
to speak to the lady privately.

"Is this your last-born?" Beauchene asked her as he looked at the pale,
puny child on her arm.

"Yes, monsieur, it's my little Alfred; he's ten months old and I've
had to wean him, for I couldn't feed him any longer. I had nine others
before this one, but three are dead. My eldest son, Eugene, is a soldier
in Tonquin. You have my two big girls, Euphrasie and Norine, at the
works. And I have three left at home--Victor, who is now fifteen, then
Cecile and Irma, who are ten and seven. After Irma I thought I had
done with children for good, and I was well pleased. But, you see, this
urchin came! And I, forty too--it's not just! The good Lord must surely
have abandoned us."

Then Dr. Boutan began to question her. He avoided looking at the
Beauchenes, but there was a malicious twinkle in his little eyes, and
it was evident that he took pleasure in recapitulating the employer's
arguments against excessive prolificness. He pretended to get angry
and to reproach the Moineauds for their ten wretched children--the boys
fated to become food for powder, the girls always liable to misfortune.
And he gave the woman to understand that it was her own fault if she was
in distress; for people with a tribe of children about them could never
become rich. And the poor creature sadly answered that he was quite
right, but that no idea of becoming rich could ever have entered their
heads. Moineaud knew well enough that he would never be a cabinet
minister, and so it was all the same to them how many children they
might have on their hands. Indeed, a number proved a help when the
youngst