“He probably came here on business. I know all the families he visits; none of them lives here.”
While thus talking, Albert approached the hut, and, before Eugénie could prevent him, entered. She followed.
Mère Vinceneau was at home that day, in one of her fits of idleness and ill-humor. She at once recognized Eugénie, whom she did not like. She had, as I have already remarked, a general antipathy against the rich.
“What have you come here for?” said she.
“We do not wish to disturb you in the least,” said Eugénie, whose curiosity was now roused. “My cousin and I merely wish to rest ourselves. Perhaps you could give us some milk.”
“I have none.”
Mère Vinceneau was a tall, spare woman, with a forbidding countenance, and covered with rags. Had it not been for her crabbed face, she would certainly have excited compassion. However, Eugénie’s sympathies were awakened at the sight of her wretched condition.
“You seem very destitute, my good woman,” said she. “Can I be of any service to you?”
La Vinceneau softened a little at this gracious offer. “Thank you,” she said. “It is true we are badly off, while some people have too much.... Nevertheless, I ought not to complain. We have one friend.... You know him well—M. Louis, the engineer of your mill. What a kind heart he has! There is one who loves the poor! If the rich only resembled him!...”
“Do you live here alone?”