Only we sent him to La Vimeux, for we wouldn't
hear any more of La Loiseau since she sent Pierre back in such a fearful
state. And this time, as the little fellow is now two years old, I was
determined to have him home again, though I don't even know where I shall
put him. I've been waiting for an hour now, and I can't help trembling,
for I always fear some catastrophe."
She could not remain in the shop, but remained standing by the doorway,
with her neck outstretched and her eyes fixed on the street corner. All
at once a deep cry came from her: "Ah! here they are!"
Leisurely, and with a sour, harassed air, La Couteau came in and placed
the sleeping child in Madame Menoux's arms, saying as she did so: "Well,
your George is a tidy weight, I can tell you. You won't say that I've
brought you this one back like a skeleton."
Quivering, her legs sinking beneath her for very joy, the mother had been
obliged to sit down, keeping her child on her knees, kissing him,
examining him, all haste to see if he were in good health and likely to
live. He had a fat and rather pale face, and seemed big, though puffy.
When she had unfastened his wraps, her hands trembling the while with
nervousness, she found that he was pot-bellied, with small legs and arms.
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