"See, here," said Marie, true to her mission of comforter, "to-night we shall have a luxury, for this work must be finished and carried home to-morrow morning, and so I shall allow myself a candle. Sometimes I am afraid that I want more light than in old days, but I daresay that is a foolish fancy. The cabbage will be ready in a few minutes; meanwhile, tell me what more news you have got there in the paper. M. Plon has a great respect for my scholarship, but he is afraid I waste my time over his journals—aha, M. Plon, you little know that I have got my reader!"
"Plon is an ass," said Jean gruffly, for he did not like any one to find a flaw in the wife whom he often scolded himself.
"Perhaps," said Marie happily. "But now, find me something horribly delightful to-night, something to make me shudder."
"Capture of a wolf in Auvergne."
"Of a wolf! Is it possible!" demanded Madame Didier, much interested. "And how many people did he eat?"
"Only one."
"Only one! What a stupid wolf! Go on, my friend."
"Suicide of a husband."
"Not that, I do not like anything so sad," she said in a changed voice. "And where was his wife all the time, that she could not prevent it, I should like to know? No, let me hear a little more about this robbery, and then we will have our dinner."