"Sir,—why,—there are so many persons here, that I dare not."
"Pooh! Where do you come from, my dear woman?" inquired the doctor, impatiently; "would you like to have a confessional brought? Come, come, make haste!"
"Sir, these are family matters."
"Oh, be easy, we are all family men here; a large family, too, as you see," added the prince of science, who was in very high spirits that day. "Come, come, let us have an end of this."
More and more alarmed, Jeanne, stammering and hesitating at each moment, said:
"I had—a quarrel with my husband—about the children; I mean my eldest daughter, that he wanted to take away; and I wouldn't agree, because of a wicked woman he lived with, and who might give bad advice to my daughter. So then, my husband, who was tipsy,—yes, sir,—for if not, he'd never have done it,—my husband gave me a very hard push, and I fell; and then, soon after, I began to vomit blood."
"Pooh, pooh, pooh! Your husband pushed you, and you fell; you describe it very nicely! Why, he did more than push you; he must have struck you in the stomach; perhaps trampled on you, or kicked you? Come, answer,—let's have the truth."
"Oh, sir, I assure you that he was tipsy; but for that he would never have been so wicked."
"Good or wicked, drunk or sober, it is not to the purpose, my good woman. I am not a public officer, and only want a fact accurately described. Now, were you not knocked down, and trampled under foot?"
"Yes!" said Jeanne, weeping; "and yet I never gave him any cause of complaint. I worked as long as I could, and—"