"La Louve, I think that I already see you established in your little home in the depths of the forest, with your husband and two or three children. Children,—what happiness! Are they not?"
"The children of my man!" exclaimed La Louve, with intense eagerness. "Ah, yes! They would be dearly loved,—they would!"
"How they would keep you company in your solitude! And, then, when they grew up they would be able to render you great service: the youngest would pick up the dead branches for fuel; the eldest would go into the grass of the forest to watch a cow or two, which they would give you as a reward for your husband's activity, for as he had been a poacher he would make a better keeper."
"To be sure; that's true enough. But really your castles in the air are very amusing. Go on, Goualeuse."
"They would be very much satisfied with your husband, and you would have some allowances from your master, a poultry-yard, a garden; and, in fact, you would have to work very hard, La Louve, from morning till night."
"Oh, if that were all, if I once had my good man near me, I should not be afraid of work! I have stout arms."
"And you would have plenty to employ them, I will answer for that. There is so much to do,—so much to do! There is the stable to clean, the meals to get ready, the clothes to mend; to-day is washing day, next day there's the bread to bake, or perhaps the house to clean from top to bottom; and, then, the other keepers would say, 'There is no such manager as Martial's wife; from the cellar to the garret, in her house, it is a pattern of cleanliness, and the children are taken such care of! But then she is so very industrious, Madame Martial.'"
"Really though, La Goualeuse, is it true? I should call myself Madame Martial," said La Louve, with a sort of pride,—"Madame Martial!"
"Which is better than being called La Louve,—is it not?"
"Pardieu! Why, there's no doubt but I should rather be called by my man's name than the name of a wild beast; but—bah!—bah! louve I was born, louve I shall die!"