"That is true, my girl," said Pique-Vinaigre, with bitter irony; "work,
break your back to fix up your room a little; as soon as you get something,
your husband will rob you again, and some fine day he will sell your
daughter as he has sold your clothes."

"Oh! before that he must kill me!--my poor Catherine!"

"He will not kill you, and he will sell your poor Catherine. He is your
husband, is he not? He is the head of the family, as your lawyer told you,
as long as you are not separated by law, and as you have not five hundred
francs to give for that, you must be resigned; your husband has the right
to take his daughter from you, and where he pleases. Once he and his
mistress have a hankering after this poor little child, they will have
her."

"But, if this infamy was possible, would there be any justice?"

"Justice," said Pique-Vinaigre, with a burst of sardonic laughter, "is like
meat; it is too dear for the poor to eat. Only, understand me, if it is in
question to send them to Melun, to put them in the pillory, or throw them
into the galleys, it is another affair; they give them this justice
_gratis_. If they cut their throats, it is again _gratis_--always
_gratis_. Ta-a-a-ake your tickets!" added Pique-Vinaigre, imitating a
mountebank; "it is not ten sous, two sous, one you, a centime that it will
cost you. No, ladies and gentlemen, it will cost you the trifle of nothing
at all; it suits every one's pockets; you have only to furnish the
_head_--the cutting and curling are at the expense of the government. Here
is justice _gratis_. But the justice which would prevent an honest mother
of a family from being beaten and despoiled by a vagabond of a husband, who