"Now none of your sermons, as I told you in the beginning; didn't I? Don't I know? Of course it troubles me to see the children with their pale faces, that used to be so rosy and fat like these two here. By the way what's your names?"
Again Celestina answered for us—"The smaller girl is the daughter of
Monsieur Dumas, and the other is her cousin, Mademoiselle Paula Javanel."
"Paula Javanel! Paula Javanel!" repeated the Breton as if trying to remember something. "I think I've heard that name before," and he looked fixedly at Paula for some seconds, and then suddenly he laughed immoderately. "Yes, yes; now I remember! Ha! ha! ha! Now I know! You're the 'Cat Mother'!"
"Cat Mother!" and Celestina looked much puzzled. "What on earth do you mean?" I had completely forgotten the ridiculous nickname that the Breton's son had given her, for the boy had run away from home several years ago.
"They called me that," explained Paula, "because I once saved a cat's life."
But the strong coffee had quite restored the Breton's good humor and he hastened to add, "Yes, she did; but she hasn't told the whole story! She's the only person in the whole village that was ever brave enough to stand up to that big brat of mine. She wrenched the cat out of his hands, and the boy came back to the house, I remember well, with a pair of ears well pulled and the air of a whipped dog."
"But I didn't pull his ears," said Paula, reddening.
"Well, if you didn't, who did, then?"
But Paula shook her head and would say nothing further.
"Well, anyway, I remember that the boy was made fun of by the whole neighborhood, and to revenge himself he gave her 'Cat Mother' for a nickname. He, too, is a bad one like his father. To tell the truth he never obeyed anybody, and dear knows where he is or what he's doing now. At least he's not like you two who came here to learn how to pray with Celestina."