"I said to-morrow, M. le Curé, and it will be to-morrow," said he, when conducting his pastor to the threshold of the door.
"Dear, holy soul of the good God!" cried Pierrette, looking after the curé as he leisurely walked down the road, repeating his rosary as he went along. "Good dear priest, that he is! We need many more like him, Ragaud!"
"Good, holy man, in truth," replied the farmer; "but what he proposes to us is an affair of importance. You are young and healthy yet, wife, but in ten years your arms will not be as strong as now. You must think of that, even if God keeps you in good health. A child is a comfort in a house, but all the burden falls on the mother. Suppose this little one should become refractory and vagabond, like Cotentin's son."
"That is true," said La Ragaude.
"Suppose he should get bad ideas in his head, and send religion and honesty to the devil."
"That would be a great misfortune," again said La Ragaude, but this time sighing.
"I know you," continued the good man—"you become attached to every one. Didn't you weep like a little girl because I beat Capitaine, who is only an ox, and who deserved it? And haven't I seen you half crazy because Brunette had the gripes?—and she was only a cow.... Can it be hoped that you would be more reasonable about a child who would become ours?—for we must do the thing well or not at all; isn't it so?"
"It is just as you say," replied Pierrette, sighing still louder; "but what, then, shall we do?"
"My opinion is that we must consider it well," answered Ragaud.