As soon as Anne Marie had asked her question, Jeanne Marie answered it.
"But your ticket, Coton-Maï!" [2]
"Where? Give it here! Give it here!"
The old woman, who had not been able to move her back for weeks, sat bolt upright in bed, and stretched out her great bony fingers, with the long nails as hard and black as rake-prongs from groveling in the earth.
"THIS TIME WE HAVE CAUGHT IT!"
Jeanne Marie poured the money out of her cotton handkerchief into them.
Anne Marie counted it, looked at it; looked at it, counted it; and if she had not been so old, so infirm, so toothless, the smile that passed over her face would have made it beautiful.