“What then?” she asked.
“Tell them we were all playing, and I’ll forgive you,” said Nicolas, in a threatening voice.
“Little wretch, mind you say it!” repeated Catherine, whose glance was more terrifying than her brother’s murderous threat.
“Yes, I will, if you let me alone,” replied the child. “But anyhow I will never go out again without my scissors.”
“You are to hold your tongue, or I’ll drown you in the Avonne,” said Catherine, ferociously.
“You are monsters,” cried the abbe, coming up; “you ought to be arrested and taken to the assizes.”
“Ha! and pray what do you do in your drawing-rooms?” said Nicolas, looking full at the countess and Blondet. “You play and amuse yourselves, don’t you? Well, so do we, in the fields which are ours. We can’t always work; we must play sometimes,—ask my sister and La Pechina.”
“How do you fight if you call that playing?” cried Blondet.
Nicolas gave him a murderous look.
“Speak!” said Catherine, gripping La Pechina by the forearm and leaving a blue bracelet on the flesh. “Were not we amusing ourselves?”