"Oh! you have been sick?" replied the bourgeoisé, in a voice of sneering severity. "Oh! you have been sick a long time? I warn you, my girl, that the place, though not a very hard one, is of some importance, and that I must have a woman of very good health."
Jeanne tried to repair her imprudent words. She declared:
"Oh! I am cured, quite cured."
"That is your affair. Moreover, we haven’t reached that yet. You are married or single, which? What are you?"
"I am a widow, Madame."
"Ah! You have no child, I suppose?"
And, as Jeanne did not answer directly, the lady insisted, more sharply:
"Say, have you children, yes or no?"
"I have a little girl," she confessed, timidly.
Then, making grimaces and gestures as if she were scattering a lot of flies, she cried:
"Oh! no child in the house; no child in the house; not under any consideration. Where is your little girl? "
"She is with my husband’s aunt."
'And what is this aunt?"
"She keeps a wine-shop in Rouen."
"A deplorable calling. Drunkenness and debauchery,—that is a pretty example for a little girl! However, that concerns you, that is your affair. How old is your little girl?"
