At nightfall Honore returned, and when he went up to the bed and saw that
his mother was still alive, he asked: "How is she?" just as he had done
formerly when she had been ailing, and then he sent La Rapet away, saying
to her: "To-morrow morning at five o'clock, without fail." And she
replied: "To-morrow, at five o'clock."

She came at daybreak, and found Honore eating his soup, which he had made
himself before going to work, and the sick-nurse asked him: "Well, is
your mother dead?" "She is rather better, on the contrary," he replied,
with a sly look out of the corner of his eyes. And he went out.

La Rapet, seized with anxiety, went up to the dying woman, who remained
in the same state, lethargic and impassive, with her eyes open and her
hands clutching the counterpane. The nurse perceived that this might go
on thus for two days, four days, eight days, and her avaricious mind was
seized with fear, while she was furious at the sly fellow who had tricked
her, and at the woman who would not die.

Nevertheless, she began to work, and waited, looking intently at the
wrinkled face of Mother Bontemps. When Honore returned to breakfast he
seemed quite satisfied and even in a bantering humor. He was decidedly
getting in his wheat under very favorable circumstances.

La Rapet was becoming exasperated; every minute now seemed to her so much
time and money stolen from her. She felt a mad inclination to take this
old woman, this, headstrong old fool, this obstinate old wretch, and to
stop that short, rapid breath, which was robbing her of her time and
money, by squeezing her throat a little. But then she reflected on the
danger of doing so, and other thoughts came into her head; so she went up
to the bed and said: "Have you ever seen the Devil?" Mother Bontemps