At first Madame Jozain had annoyed them greatly by trying to intrude upon their seclusion; and it had taken several polite, but unmistakable rebuffs to reach her that they were d’Hautreves, and that the child would be received gladly where the aunt must not expect to enter.
Madame swallowed her mortification and said nothing, but she bided her time to take her revenge. “I’ll show them before long that I know how poor they are; and that funny little story I got out of Tite Souris, about Mam’selle Diane cleaning her banquette with a veil over her face—every one in the neighborhood shall know it. Poor, proud, old thing, she thought she could insult me and I wouldn’t resent it!”
And while Madame was planning her little revenge, and rehearsing her grievances to herself, Madame d’Hautreve and Mam’selle Diane were wondering if something couldn’t be done to get the child out of the clutches of such an aunt.
“It seems dreadful,” Mam’selle Diane would say, sadly, “to leave her with that woman. I can’t think she has any right to her; there’s a mystery about it, and it ought to be investigated. Oh, mama dear, if we had some money I’d hire a lawyer to find out. If she really is the child’s next-of-kin, I suppose she has a legal right to her, and that no one could oblige her to relinquish that right; but one might buy the child; I think she is just the woman to be moved by money. Oh, mama, if our claim had only gone through! If we’d only got what we ought to have had, I would try—if you had no objections—to get the child.”
“Dear, dear, Diane, how absurd you are! What would you do with her?”
“Why, you could adopt her, mama, and I could have the care of her.”
“But, my child, that is all romancing. We have no money, and we never shall have any. It is useless to think of that claim, it will never be considered; and even if we had money, it would be a great risk to take a child we know nothing of. I think with you that there’s some mystery, and I should like to have it looked into, yet I don’t think it’s worth while worrying about; we have troubles enough of our own.”
“Oh, mama, we need not be selfish because we are poor,” said Diane, gently.
“We can’t help it, child; selfishness is one of the results of poverty. It is self, self, constantly; but you are an exception, Diane. I will give you the credit of thinking more of others’ interest than of your own. You show it in everything. Now, about that bird. Madame Jourdain should have paid you for it, and not thrown it on your hands.”
“Oh, mama, she couldn’t sell it,” said Mam’selle Diane, rejectedly. “It wouldn’t be right to expect her to lose the price of it. She says it didn’t ‘take’ as well as the ducks.”