"As of my existence," answered the woman, "for, on that evening, yes, it
was evening, she was, saving your presence, a little tipsy. She remained
in my shop more than an hour."

"And what did she say?"

"I think I see her now," continued the shopkeeper: "she was leaning
against the counter near the scales, jesting with a fisherman of Marly,
old Husson, who can tell you the same; and she called him a fresh water
sailor. 'My husband,' said she, 'was a real sailor, and the proof is,
he would sometimes remain years on a voyage, and always used to bring me
back cocoanuts. I have a son who is also a sailor, like his dead father,
in the imperial navy.'"

"Did she mention her son's name?"

"Not that time, but another evening, when she was, if I may say so, very
drunk. She told us that her son's name was Jacques, and that she had not
seen him for a very long time."

"Did she speak ill of her husband?"

"Never! She only said he was jealous and brutal, though a good man at
bottom, and that he led her a miserable life. He was weak-headed, and
forged ideas out of nothing at all. In fact he was too honest to be
wise."

"Did her son ever come to see her while she lived here?"