"Nor we neither."
"A poor little innocent!"
"Who would have a heart to hurt it?"
"Must be a monster!"
"No hearts!"
"Wild beasts!"
"I told you truly," said Fleur-de-Marie. "That you were not cruel. You are kind; your error is not reflecting that Mont Saint Jean deserves as much compassion as though she had her child in her arms, that's all."
"That's all!" cried La Louve, with warmth; "no, that's not all. You were right, La Goualeuse; we were cowards, and you were brave in daring to tell us so; and you are brave in not trembling after having told us. You see we were right in constantly insisting that you were not one of us—it must always come to that. It vexes me; but so it is. We were all wrong just now. You were pluckier than the whole gang of us!"
"That's true; this little blonde must have had courage to tell us the truth right in our faces."
"After all, it is true, when we strike Mont Saint Jean, we do strike her child."