"I am ugly, I know. Say what you please: all the same to me; but don't strike me, that's all I ask."
"What have you got in that old handkerchief?" said La Louve.
"Yes, yes, what is it? Come, show it."
"Oh no, I entreat you!" said the poor creature, holding the bundle tightly in her hands.
"You must give it up."
"Yes; take it from her, La Louve."
"What is it?"
"Well, it is baby's clothes I have commenced for my child. I make them with the old pieces of linen I pick up. It is of no consequence to you, is it?"
"Oh, let us see the baby-linen of Mont Saint Jean! Come, come," cried
La Louve, snatching the bundle from the hands of Mont Saint Jean.
The wretched handkerchief was torn to pieces in the struggle, and its contents, composed of rags and bits of stuff of all colors, were strewn on the ground and trampled under foot, amid shouts of laughter.