She was succeeded by a woman with a round cap and calico wrapper. She brought back only a single book, which she laid on the desk, saying:
“Great heaven! we had hard work to finish it! I thought that we would never see the end!”
“It is true that you have had the book nearly a month.”
“Oh, dear me! we don’t read fast at our house; you see, as a general thing, my man reads to me while I am working; and as he still has the catarrh, he stops at every comma to cough. Never mind, it’s mighty interesting. I cried hard with that poor girl who spends fifteen years in the underground dungeon, with nothing but bread and water to eat. She must have had a good stomach, I tell you, not to be sick.”
“Do you want something else?”
“Yes, to be sure. Something about robbers, if you please, and about ghosts, if you have anything, because a novel with robbers and ghosts in it can’t help being interesting. Oh! and then I want something with pictures, some of those lovely pictures of crimes. I am very fond of pictures, I am; and then you see, I say to myself: ‘a novel that they don’t spend the money to put pictures in, why it can’t have Peru behind it.’ Don’t I hit the mark?”
“Here is something, madame, that will interest you greatly.”
“What is it?”
“The Ghosts of the Nameless Château, or The Brigands of the Abandoned Quarry.”
“Ah! what a splendid title! what a ring there is to it! Let’s look at the pictures. A man eating a skeleton. Bless my soul! that must be good. I don’t want to see any more; I’ll take the Ghosts, and I’ll go and buy some jujube paste for my husband, so that he won’t cough quite so much when he’s reading.”