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