Georgette did not hear them; the modulations of her voice seemed to keep time with the cradling of a dream. Her large eyes, gazing upward, were divine; however gloomy may be the vault over a child's head, heaven is always reflected in its eyes.
When René-Jean had finished, he scraped the bottom of the porringer with the spoon, sighed, and remarked with dignity,—
"I have eaten my soup."
This roused Georgette from her dreaming.
"Thoup," said she.
And seeing that René-Jean had finished his, and that Gros-Alain was still eating, she took the bowl of soup which stood beside her, and began to eat, carding the spoon quite as often to her ear as she did to her mouth.
From time to time she renounced civilization and ate with her fingers.
When Gros-Alain had scraped the bottom of his porringer he jumped out of bed and trotted after his brother.