"We do not want tears, but an answer. Have you any children?"
"Yes, sir, two little boys and a girl."
"How long have you been sick?"
"For four days, sir," said Jeanne, wiping her eyes.
"Tell me how you became sick."
"Sir, there are so many people, I do not dare."
"Where do you come from, my dear?" said the doctor, impatiently. "Would you not like me to bring a confessional here? Come, speak, and be quick. Be composed, we are quite a family party—quite a large family, as you see," added the prince of science, who was on that day in a gay humor. "Come, let us finish."
More and more intimidated, Jeanne said, stammering and hesitating at each word, "I had, sir, a quarrel with my husband, on the subject of my children; I mean to say, of my eldest daughter. He wished take her away. I—you comprehend, sir,—I did not wish it, on account of a vile woman, who might give bad advice to my child; then my husband, who was drunk—oh! yes, sir, except for that he would not have done it—my husband pushed me very hard; I fell, and—then, a short time after, I began to throw up blood."
"Ta, ta, ta; your husband pushed you, and you fell. You set it off very nicely. He has certainly done more than push you; he must have struck you very hard, and what is more, several times. Perhaps, also, he has trampled you under foot. Come, answer! tell the truth."
"Ah! sir, I assure you he was drunk, otherwise he would not have been so wicked."