When he came to the time at which his father had spoken about her, her attention was caught by hearing her own name, and, uncovering her face, she said:
“Pardon me! I was not following you; I would like to know—if you do not mind beginning over again.”
He related everything at great length, with stoppages, breaks, and reflections of his own from time to time. She listened to him eagerly now perceiving with a woman's keen sensibility all the sudden changes of fortune which his narrative indicated, and trembling with horror, every now and then, exclaiming:
“Oh, my God!”
The little fellow, believing that she had calmed down, ceased beating César, in order to catch his mother's hand, and he listened, too, as if he understood.
When the narrative was finished, young Hautot continued:
“Now, we will settle matters together in accordance with his wishes. Listen: I am well off, he has left me plenty of means. I don't want you to have anything to complain about—”
But she quickly interrupted him:
“Oh! Monsieur César, Monsieur César, not today. I am cut to the heart—another time—another day. No, not to-day. If I accept, listen! 'Tis not for myself—no, no, no, I swear to you. 'Tis for the child. Besides this provision will be put to his account.”
Thereupon César scared, divined the truth, and stammering: