"My dupe--because you have generously assisted this poor woman!" "It shall not be said," cried La Louve, "that a little girl like you can trample me under foot." "I! how?" "Do I know how? You come here--you commence by offending me." "Offend you?" "Yes: you ask who wants your bread: I answer first 'I.' Mont Saint Jean only asks for it afterward and you give her the preference. Furious at this, I rush on you with my knife raised." "And I said to you, 'Kill me if you will, but do not make me suffer too much,'" answered La Goualeuse; "that was all." "That was all! Yes, that was all! and yet, these words alone caused the knife to fall from my hands; made me ask pardon from you, who had offended me. Is it natural? Why, when I return to my senses, I pity myself. And the night when you arrived here, when you knelt to say your prayers, why, instead of laughing at you and arousing the whole company--why was it that I said, 'Leave her alone; she prays because she has the right to do so.' And, the next morning, why were we all ashamed to dress before you?" "I do not know, La Louve." "Really!" said this violent creature, with irony, "you don't know! It is, doubtless, as we have told you sometimes in jest, that you are of another family than ours. Perhaps you believe that?" "I never said so." "You never said so, but you act so." "I pray you to listen to me." "No! it has been of no service for me to listen to you--to look at you. Up to now I have never envied any one. Well, two or three times I have surprised myself in envying--can anything be more sneaking?--in envying your face--like the Holy Virgin's! your soft, sad manner! Yes, I have envied even your fair hair, and your blue eyes. I--who have always detested fair faces, since I am a brunette--wish to resemble you!" "No, La Louve! me?" "A week ago I should have left my mark on any one who would have dared to tell me this. However, I do not envy you your lot; you are as sad as a Magdalen. Is it natural? speak!" "How can you expect me to account to you for the impressions I cause?" "Oh, you know well enough what you do with your touch-me-not air." "But what design can I have?" "Do you think I know? It is exactly because I cannot understand all this that I suspect you. There is another thing: until now I have always been gay or angry, but never a thinker; and you have made me think. Yes, there are some words you say which, in spite of me, have touched my heart, and make me think all manner of sad things." "I am sorry to have made you sad, La Louve; but I do not remember to have said any--" "Oh!" cried La Louve; "what you do is often as touching as what you say! You are so malignant!" "Do not be angry, La Louve! explain yourself." "Yesterday, in the workshop, I saw you plainly. You had your eyes down, fixed on your work; a tear fell on your hand; you looked at it for a moment, and then you carried your hand to your lips, as if to kiss away this tear; is it not true?"