“No, Victoire; I was cross myself when I said that.”
As Victoire was going to speak again, the surgeon imposed silence, observing that she must be put to bed, and should be kept quiet. Madame de Fleury laid her upon the bed, as soon as Maurice had cleared it of the things with which it was covered; and as they were spreading the ragged blanket over the little girl, she whispered a request to Madame de Fleury that she would “stay till her mamma came home, to beg Maurice off from being whipped, if mamma should be angry.”
Touched by this instance of goodness, and compassionating the desolate condition of these children, Madame de Fleury complied with Victoire’s request; resolving to remonstrate with their mother for leaving them locked up in this manner. They did not know to what part of the town their mother was gone; they could tell only “that she was to go to a great many different places to carry back work, and to bring home more, and that she expected to be in by five.” It was now half after four.
Whilst Madame de Fleury waited, she asked the boy to give her a full account of the manner in which the accident had happened.
“Why, ma’am,” said Maurice, twisting and untwisting a ragged handkerchief as he spoke, “the first beginning of all the mischief was, we had nothing to do, so we went to the ashes to make dirt pies; but Babet would go so close that she burnt her petticoat, and threw about all our ashes, and plagued us, and we whipped her. But all would not do, she would not be quiet; so to get out of her reach, we climbed up by this chair on the table to the top of the press, and there we were well enough for a little while, till somehow we began to quarrel about the old scissors, and we struggled hard for them till I got this cut.”
Here he unwound the handkerchief, and for the first time showed the wound, which he had never mentioned before.
“Then,” continued he, “when I got the cut, I shoved Victoire, and she pushed at me again, and I was keeping her off, and her foot slipped, and down she fell, and caught by the press-door, and pulled it and me after her, and that’s all I know.”
“It is well that you were not both killed,” said Madame de Fleury. “Are you often left locked up in this manner by yourselves, and without anything to do?”
“Yes, always, when mamma is abroad, except sometimes we are let out upon the stairs or in the street; but mamma says we get into mischief there.”
This dialogue was interrupted by the return of the mother. She came upstairs slowly, much fatigued, and with a heavy bundle under her arm.