"Well, no; he never has," said Francois, looking at his red handkerchief with delight. Amandine said, in a very low tone, "Brother Martial does not make us presents, because he hasn't the means."
"If he would steal, he'd have them," said Nicholas; "eh, Francois?"
"Yes, brother," answered Francois. Then he added: "Oh, the beautiful silk! What a fine cravat for Sunday?"
"What a fine head-dress!" said Amandine.
"Not to say how wild the children of the lime-burner will be when they see you pass," said Calabash, looking at the children to see if they comprehended the bearing of the words. The abominable creature thus called vanity to her assistance to stifle the last scruples of conscience. "The beggars will burst with envy: while you, with your fine silk, will look like little gentry."
"That's true," answered Francois. "I am much more content with my fine cravat, since the little lime-burners will be so jealous; ain't you, Amandine?"
"I am content with my fine kerchief."
"You'll never be anything but a noodle!" said Calabash, disdainfully; and taking from the table a piece of bread and cheese, she gave it to the children and said, "Go upstairs to bed. Here is a lantern. Take care of the fire, and put out the light before you go to sleep."
"And," added Nicholas, "remember, if you say a word to Martial about the box, or the copper, or the clothes, you shall have a dance, so that you'll take fire; not to say taking away the silks."
After the departure of the children, Nicholas and his sister hid the stolen articles in a little cellar under the kitchen.