She heard his voice, gave a start, and rushed into the shop; but at the sight of the miserable man, who was trying in vain to steady himself, she pressed the child in her arms and bent over it with tears. The countrywoman and the neighbor had followed her. "Come! come! do you intend to pay me, after all?" cried the former in a rage. "Ask the master for the money," ironically answered the woman from the next door, pointing to the joiner, who had just fallen against the counter. The countrywoman looked at him. "Ah! he is the father," returned she. "Well, what idle beggars! not to have a penny to pay honest people, and get tipsy with wine in that way." The drunkard raised his head. "What! what!" stammered he; "who is it that talks of wine? I've had nothing but brandy! But I am going back again to get some wine! Wife, give me your money; there are some friends waiting for me at the wine shop." Genevieve did not answer; he went round the counter, opened the till, and began to rummage in it. "You see where the money of the house goes!" observed the neighbor to the countrywoman; "how can the poor unhappy woman pay you when he takes all?" "Is that my fault?" replied the nurse angrily. "They owe it to me and somehow or other they must pay me!" And letting loose her tongue, as those women out of the country do, she began relating at length all the care she had taken of the child and all the expense it had been to her. In proportion as she recalled all she had done, her words seemed to convince her more than ever of her rights and to increase her anger. The poor mother, who no doubt feared that her violence would frighten the child, returned into the back shop and put it into its cradle. Whether it is that the countrywoman saw in this act a determination to escape her claims, or that she was blinded by passion, I cannot say; but she rushed into the next room, where I heard the sounds of quarreling, with which the cries of the child were soon mingled. The joiner, who was still rummaging in the till, was startled and raised his head. At the same moment Genevieve appeared at the door, holding in her arms the baby that the countrywoman was trying to tear from her. She ran toward the counter, and throwing herself behind her husband cried: "Michael, defend your son!" The drunken man quickly stood up erect, like one who awakes with a start. "My son!" stammered he; "what son?" His looks fell upon the child; a vague ray of intelligence passed over his features. "Robert," resumed he; "it is Robert!" He tried to steady himself on his feet, that he might take the baby, but he tottered. The nurse approached him in a rage. "My money, or I shall take the child away!" cried she. "It is I who have fed and brought it up: if you don't pay me for what has made it live, it ought to be the same to you as if it were dead. I shall not go until I have my due or the baby."