"How old is this midget?" she asked.
The mother did not understand. The vivandière repeated,—"I ask you how old it is?"
"Oh, eighteen months," said the mother.
"That's quite old," said the vivandière; "it ought not to nurse any longer, you must wean it. We will give him soup."
The mother began to feel more at ease. The two little ones, who had awakened, were rather interested than frightened; they admired the plumes of the soldiers.
"Ah, they are very hungry!" said the mother.
And she added,—
"I have no more milk."
"We will give them food," cried the sergeant, "and you also. But there is something more to be settled. What are your political opinions?"
The woman looked at him and made no reply.