Silent labor consumed her; for twenty years she had been desperately
selling bits of cotton and packages of needles without ever making a
fortune, but pleased, nevertheless, at being able to add her modest gains
to her husband's monthly salary in order to provide him with sundry
little comforts. His rheumatism would no doubt soon compel him to
relinquish his post as a museum attendant, and how would they be able to
manage with his pension of a few hundred francs per annum if she did not
keep up her business? Moreover, they had met with no luck. Their first
child had died, and some years had elapsed before the birth of a second
boy, whom they had greeted with delight, no doubt, though he would prove
a heavy burden to them, especially as they had now decided to take him
back from the country. Thus Mathieu found the worthy woman in a state of
great emotion, waiting for the child on the threshold of her shop, and
watching the corner of the avenue.
"Oh! it was Celeste who sent you, monsieur! No, La Couteau hasn't come
yet. I'm quite astonished at it; I expect her every moment. Will you
kindly step inside, monsieur, and sit down?"
He refused the only chair which blocked up the narrow passage where
scarcely three customers could have stood in a row.
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