“He is right,” replied little Marie. “That is what you told him. He has a good memory, and has not forgotten. But, little Pierre, you must learn that your father never tells a story. We passed through the big forest whilst you were sleeping, and now we are in the small forest where there are no wicked beasts.”
“Is the little forest very far away from the big one?”
“Far enough; besides, the wolves never go out of the big forest. And then, if some of them should come here, your father would kill them.”
“And you too, little Marie?”
“Yes, we, too, for you would help also, my Pierre. You are not frightened, are you? You would beat them soundly?”
“Yes, indeed, I would,” said the child, proudly, as he struck a heroic attitude; “we would kill them.”
“There is nobody like you for talking to children and for making them listen to reason,” said Germain to little Marie. “To be sure, it is not long ago since you were a small child yourself, and you have not forgotten what your mother used to say to you. I believe that the younger one is, the better one gets on with children. I am very much afraid that a woman of thirty who does not yet know what it is to be a mother, would find it hard to prattle to children and reason with them.”
“Why, Germain? I don’t know why you have such a bad idea of this woman; you will change your mind.”
“The devil take the woman!” exclaimed Germain. “I wish I were going away from her forever. What do I want of a wife whom I don’t know?”
“Little father,” said the child, “why is it that you speak so much of your wife to-day, since she is dead?”