"I still have two woollen dresses and some comforters," Cécile went on; "you will see how warm they will be, the poor dears!"
Then Maheude found her tongue, and stammered:
"Thank you so much, mademoiselle. You are all too good."
Tears had filled her eyes, she thought herself sure of the five francs, and was only preoccupied by the way in which she would ask for them if they were not offered to her. The housemaid did not reappear, and there was a moment of embarrassed silence. From their mother's skirts the little ones opened their eyes wide and gazed at the brioche.
"You only have these two?" asked Madame Grégoire, in order to break the silence.
"Oh, madame! I have seven."
M. Grégoire, who had gone back to his newspaper, sat up indignantly.
"Seven children! But why? good God!"
"It is imprudent," murmured the old lady.
Maheude made a vague gesture of apology. What would you have? One doesn't think about it at all, they come quite naturally. And then, when they grow up they bring something in, and that makes the household go. Take their case, they could get on, if it was not for the grandfather who was getting quite stiff, and if it was not that among the lot only two of her sons and her eldest daughter were old enough to go down into the pit. It was necessary, all the same, to feed the little ones who brought nothing in.