A
man, with a heavy, loutish face and figure, was sitting with
his arms on the table, twirling a glass about in his fingers,
a bottle half full of vine before him. He turned round as
Jeanne-Marie entered with Madelon in her arms, and rising
slowly went towards them.
"Eh, Jeanne-Marie, what have you got there?" he said.
"Does that concern you?" answered the woman sharply enough;
"drink your wine, Jacques Monnier, and do not trouble yourself
with other people's affairs."
"_Est-elle morte, la petite?_" asked Jacques, recoiling at the
sight of Madelon's white face.
"_Est-elle morte?_" repeated Jeanne-Marie, "and with her eyes as
wide open as yours! _Allons, mon enfant, du courage_," she
added, as Madelon opened her eyes for a moment; but she closed
them again, and the woman looking round, said, "There will be
no peace here, with you men coming in and out. Open that door
for me, Jacques," pointing to one nearly opposite the
entrance.
The man obeyed. It opened at the bottom of the ladder-like
staircase, a gleam of light from above, showing where another
door at the top step led into a small bed-room.
Pages:
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407