“Six and a half—and I broke the bowl, and papa’s soup——”
“Yes, yes, it’s on the ground; you mustn’t think any more about it.”
“It was cabbage soup—hi! hi!”
“Oh! I can smell it. But don’t cry any more. I promise you that you shan’t be whipped.”
“Yes, I shall; I broke the bowl, and grandma told me to be very careful.”
“Come, listen to me: what’s your name?”
“Coco—and I’ve broke the bowl.”
“Well, my little Coco, I’ll give you money to buy another bowl, and to have three times as much cabbage soup made. I hope you won’t cry any more now.”
As he spoke, Auguste took a five-franc piece from his pocket and put it in the child’s hand; but Coco stared at the coin with his big blue eyes open wider than ever, and continued none the less to sob bitterly, saying: