“You are mistaken! little boys are just the ones they do keep in the houses of correction until they grow up, so that they can’t loiter along the roads doing nothing.”
“Well, then, in prison I’d play with the other little boys, as you say there’s little boys there.”
“No, you wouldn’t play, because they don’t keep little ne’er-do-wells in prison to play and enjoy themselves; they make them work; and those who refuse are punished, kept on bread and water, and not allowed to speak to anyone.—Come now, think and tell me whether the few cherries you have eaten are worth all the punishments that they might bring upon you.”
Little Emile made no reply; he gazed at Honorine, furtively at first, but at last made bold to look her in the face, as if to assure himself that she was not laughing at him, and that she really meant what she had said. Doubtless the young woman’s face inspired confidence, for he seemed to reflect; and after a few moments he muttered:
“What am I to do to get cherries then? there ain’t any cherry tree at our house; and they won’t give me any money to buy any.”
“Why, instead of stealing—which is very, very wrong, even if it’s only cherries—you should just come and ask for some; and I would never refuse to give them to you! Especially if I haven’t heard of your doing any more naughty things, like throwing stones at a cow to make her run through the fields at the risk of hurting people, especially poor little children who might not have time to get out of the way. Oh! it is so wicked to hurt those who are weak and can’t defend themselves; only cowardly hearts do that.”
“Oh! I fight with big boys, I do!”
“Don’t fight at all; that will be much better.”
Then she made a sign to Agathe, who understood her and brought a little basket filled with cherries. Honorine took out two handfuls and handed them to the little boy.
“Here,” she said, “since you are so fond of cherries, take these.”