Francois had perfectly understood the gesture of his mother; he jumped up quickly, and with one bound was out of his mother's reach.
"You want mother to beat you soundly?" cried Calabash, "do you?"
The widow, holding the rod in her hand, bit her lips, and looked at Francois with a steady eye, without pronouncing a word. From the slight agitation of Amandine's hands, who sat with her head down, while her neck was suffused with red, it could be seen that the child, although accustomed to such scenes, was alarmed at the fate which awaited her brother, who, having taken refuge in a corner of the kitchen, seemed alarmed and yet rebellious.
"Take care of yourself; mother will get up, and then it will be too late," said Calabash.
"All the same to me," answered Francois, turning pale. "I prefer to be beaten, as I was yesterday, to going to the wood-pile at night."
"And why?" said Calabash, impatiently.
"I am afraid of the wood-pile!" answered Francois, shuddering in spite of himself.
"You are afraid, fool! of what?"
Francois hung his head without answering.
"Will you speak? What are you afraid of?"