"Oh, dear, how unlucky! Oh, dear, how unlucky to lose such a fine calf!"
Françoise likewise lamented, and the regrets they all expressed grew so aggressive, so full of implied hostility, that Patoir felt hurt. He hurried to them, stopping, however, outside the door, for decency's sake.
"I say! I give you warning. Just remember that you implored me to save your cow. I know you so well, you beggars. Now, don't you go about telling everybody that I killed your calf."
"That's right enough, right enough," muttered Buteau, going back with him into the cow-house. "All the same, it was you that cut it up."
As Lise lay prostrate among the three chairs, a kind of billow passed over her. Françoise, who in her desolation had so far seen nothing, became quite thunderstruck.
"A little more patience," said La Frimat. "It'll soon be all right."
Françoise, on her part, shook herself free from the fascination of the sight, and feeling embarrassed, went and took her sister's hand.
"My poor Lise," she said affectionately, "what great trouble you're in!"
"Oh, yes, yes! And no one pities me. If I only had some pity! Oh, dear! It's beginning again. Won't it ever be born?"