"Madame, you are right," replied Renard, doffing his greasy cap and making a low bow which had about it an insulting air of mockery.
"And on that occasion," went on Sophie, "you made inquiry respecting two lads?"
"I did so, madame; once more you are entirely right."
"Are these the lads then, monsieur?"
"These are they, madame, sans doute. The eye of love—such love as I have for these dear petits garcons—" and Foxy showed his teeth—"is not to be deceived."
"What then do you want, monsieur, now you have found them?" asked Mother Sophie.
"Madame, you are a stranger to me!" cried Foxy. "You know not—how should you?—this heart of mine, or you would not make such an inquiry. Unworthy, ungrateful as these children are, I am ready (such is my magnanimous nature!) to forgive and receive them back into my affection and my service."
"Hein, monsieur! Eh bien!" cried the strident voice of Pelagie, who had hitherto stood silent. "But what say the boys to this? You say you are willing to have them back; now the question is, are they ready to return to you? For there should be two sides to a bargain, monsieur, as all the world knows."
"You have reason, Pelagie," said Sophie quietly. "What say you, my children?" and the old woman's voice softened, and her face grew tender and pitiful, as the lads clung to her in their fear and distress. "What say you, will you go with Monsieur Renard, your former master?"
"No, no, good mother, never! Never again!" cried both boys at once.