"Where is thy unfortunate boy gone to, Martine?" she enquired,--"Is
it wise to let him be with the Patoux children? They are strong and
quick and full of mischief,--they might do him fresh injury in play
without meaning it."

"I will trust them," answered Martine curtly,--"They have taken him
to see a Cardinal."

"A Cardinal!" and the old woman craned her withered neck forward in
amazement and began to laugh feebly,--"Nom de Jesus! That is
strange! What does the Cardinal want with him?"

"Nothing," said Martine gruffly--"It seems that he is an old man who
is kind to children, and the girl Babette has a fancy to get his
blessing for my Fabien,--that is all."

"And that is little enough," responded the old vegetable-vendor,
still laughing, or rather chuckling hoarsely--"A blessing is not
worth much nowadays, is it Martine? It never puts an extra ounce of
meat in the pot-au-feu,--and yet it is all one gets out of the
priests for all the prayers and the praise. Last time I went to
confession I accused myself of the sin of envy. I said 'Look here,
my father, I am a widow and very old; and I have rheumatism in all
my bones, and I have only a bit of matting to sleep on at home, and
if I have a bad day with the market I can buy no food. And there is
a woman living near me who has a warm house, with a stove in it,--
and blankets to cover her, and a bit of money put by, and I envy her
her blankets and her stove and her house and her money. Is that a
sin?' And he said it was a sin; but that he would absolve me from it