"Is this the place where you can see the doctor."
"Women now!" growled the adjutant. "What do you want now?"
"Beg pardon, excuse me, Doctor," rejoined the peasant woman, who came up very timidly. "I came for my son who is a soldier."
"Tell me now, old woman, am I here to keep track of your son, or what?"
With her hands crossed on the handle of her umbrella, timorous, she examined the place about her.
"It seems like he is very sick, my son is, very, very sick.... And so I came to see if he was not around here, Doctor."
"What's your name?"
"My name is Riboulleau."
"Riboulleau.... Riboulleau!... That may be ... look in that pile there."
The attendant who was broiling his pudding turned his head.