“I mean so far as the child we have come to see is concerned. They have sent us to find out about his health; can’t we see that as well as our masters? And even better, for we have better eyes than they have.”
“You speak of your masters with very little respect, Monsieur Jasmin.”
“Mademoiselle, I respect and venerate them, but that doesn’t prevent me from saying that they are both of them in a miserable state. What wretched carcasses! They make me feel very sad!”
“Hush, Monsieur Jasmin, here we are!”
The carriage had stopped in front of Frimousset’s house, and Jacquinot’s shouts had put the whole household in commotion.
“Those are Chérubin’s parents,” was heard in every direction. The little boys rushed to meet the carriage; Jacquinot went to draw wine to offer to his guests; while Nicole, after hastily washing her nursling and wiping his nose, took him in her arms and presented him to Jasmin and Turlurette, just as they alighted from the carriage, and called out to them:
“Here he is, monsieur and madame; take him, and see how well he is! Ah! I flatter myself that he wasn’t as pretty as that when you gave him to me!”
“True; he’s superb!” said Jasmin, kissing the child.
“Yes, he is as well as can be!” said Turlurette, turning little Chérubin over and over in every direction.
But while they admired her nursling, Nicole, who had had time to recover herself, looked closely at Jasmin and Turlurette, and then exclaimed: