"I must love you very much, Chouette, for you make me do just what you like," said Tortillard, slowly advancing.
The dim, wavering light of the candle, which but imperfectly lighted this gloomy way, reflected the black profile of this hideous brat on the slimy walls, which were full of crevices and reeking with damp. At the end of this passage, through the half obscurity, might be seen the low and crumbling arch of the entrance to the cellar, the thick door strengthened with iron bars, and, standing out in the shade, the red shawl and white cap of the Chouette.
By the united exertions of the two, the door opened harshly on its rusty hinges; a puff of humid vapour escaped from this den, as dark as midnight. The light, placed on the ground, threw its faint beams on the first steps of the stone staircase, the bottom of which was completely lost in the darkness. A cry, or, rather, a savage roar, came from the depths of the cave.
"Ah, there's fourline wishing his mamma good-morning!" said the Chouette, with a sneer.
And she descended several steps, in order to conceal her basket in some hole.
"I'm hungry!" exclaimed the Schoolmaster, in a voice that shook with rage; "do you wish to kill me like a mad dog?"
"What's the deary lovey hungry?" said the Chouette, with a laugh of mockery; "then smell its thumb."
There was a sound like that of a chain twisted violently; then a groan of mute, repressed passion.
"Take care! Take care, or you'll have a bump in your leg, as you had at Bouqueval farm, poor dear pa!" said Tortillard.
"He's right, the boy is,—keep yourself quiet, fourline," continued the hag; "the ring and chain are solid, old No-Eyes, for they came from Father Micou's, and he sells nothing but the best goods. It is your fault, too; why did you allow yourself to be bound whilst you were asleep? We only had then to put the ring and chain in this place, and bring you down here in the cool to preserve you, old darling."