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CHAPTER VIII
THE RAY OF LIGHT
IN THE HOVEL
The big girl approached and laid her hand in her father’s.
‘Feel how cold I am,’ said she.
‘Bah!’ replied the father, ‘I am much colder than that.’
The mother exclaimed impetuously:—
‘You always have something better than any one else, so
you do! even bad things.’
‘Down with you!’ said the man.
The mother, being eyed after a certain fashion, held her
tongue.
Silence reigned for a moment in the hovel. The elder girl
was removing the mud from the bottom of her mantle, with
a careless air; her younger sister continued to sob; the moth-
er had taken the latter’s head between her hands, and was
covering it with kisses, whispering to her the while:—
‘My treasure, I entreat you, it is nothing of consequence,
don’t cry, you will anger your father.’
‘No!’ exclaimed the father, ‘quite the contrary! sob! sob!
that’s right.’
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