"What does this bad word mean, mother?" asked the child, half frightened
by her anger. "Is that what they call poor children who have no father?"

His mother folded him in her arms. "Oh!" she continued, "it is an
infamous slander! These people never saw your father, they have only
been here six years, and this is the eighth since he went away, but this
is abominable! We were married in that church, we came at once to live
in this house, which was my marriage portion, and my poor Martin has
relations and friends here who will not allow his wife to be insulted--"

"Say rather, his widow," interrupted a solemn voice.

"Ah! uncle!" exclaimed the woman, turning towards an old man who had just
emerged from the house.

"Yes, Bertrande," continued the new-comer, "you must get reconciled to
the idea that my nephew has ceased to exist. I am sure he was not such a
fool as to have remained all this time without letting us hear from him.
He was not the fellow to go off at a tangent, on account of a domestic
quarrel which you have never vouchsafed to explain to me, and to retain
his anger during all these eight years! Where did he go? What did he
do? We none of us know, neither you nor I, nor anybody else. He is
assuredly dead, and lies in some graveyard far enough from here. May God
have mercy on his soul!"

Bertrande, weeping, made the sign of the cross, and bowed her head upon
her hands.

"Good-bye, Sanxi," said the uncle, tapping the child's,' cheek. Sanxi