"First of all, how is she? how is the child coming on?"
"Very well, monsieur; little Marie's rather delicate; she's slight, like her mother; but she's growing like a little mushroom. As for Madame Landernoy—you know, you saw her before the baby was born; well, you wouldn't know her to-day. Her cheeks and lips are red again, and her figure's slender and her eyes clear. Oh! she's mighty pretty now, I tell you!"
"So much the better, I am sure!"
"Well, no, monsieur; it ain't so much the better! in fact, she don't like to have people call her pretty."
"Why so, Madame Potrelle? I shall never believe that a woman is sorry to be attractive."
"Well, that's the way it is with her, monsieur; because, since she's got to be so fresh and pretty, it's begun all over again."
"What has begun again?"
"Oh! mon Dieu! the young popinjays running after her."
"When a woman doesn't answer the men who follow her, they soon leave her in peace."
"Sometimes, monsieur, sometimes. But some of 'em stick like leeches. Still, as you say, she don't answer 'em, and when they come and apply to me, as a middle-aged man did not long ago—you ought to see how I stand 'em off! He offered me ten francs, the blackguard, to let him go upstairs and say two words to Madame Landernoy; he was sure she wouldn't be sorry to have him come; he had a pretty proposal to make to her. 'Monsieur,' says I, standing on my footwarmer to make myself more imposing, 'you take that young woman for what she ain't; and if you don't clear out this minute, I'll throw two cats at your head.' He saw that I had Bribri in one hand and his brother in the other, and he didn't ask for his change. He ran, and I guess he's running still."