“Look at him! Look at him now, the good-for-nothing wretch! I've got to feed him and wash him just as if he were a pig!” And when the old woman had gone, a cock with red feathers would sometimes fly up to the window sill and looking into the room with his round inquisitive eye, would begin to crow loudly. Occasionally, too, a few hens would flutter as far as the foot of the bed, seeking crumbs on the floor. Toine's friends soon deserted the drinking room to come and chat every afternoon beside the invalid's bed. Helpless though he was, the jovial Toine still provided them with amusement. He would have made the devil himself laugh. Three men were regular in their attendance at the bedside: Celestin Maloisel, a tall, thin fellow, somewhat gnarled, like the trunk of an apple-tree; Prosper Horslaville, a withered little man with a ferret nose, cunning as a fox; and Cesaire Paumelle, who never spoke, but who enjoyed Toine's society all the same. They brought a plank from the yard, propped it upon the edge of the bed, and played dominoes from two till six. But Toine's wife soon became insufferable. She could not endure that her fat, lazy husband should amuse himself at games while lying in his bed; and whenever she caught him beginning a game she pounced furiously on the dominoes, overturned the plank, and carried all away into the bar, declaring that it was quite enough to have to feed that fat, lazy pig without seeing him amusing himself, as if to annoy poor people who had to work hard all day long. Celestin Maloisel and Cesaire Paumelle bent their heads to the storm, but Prosper Horslaville egged on the old woman, and was only amused at her wrath. One day, when she was more angry than usual, he said: “Do you know what I'd do if I were you?” She fixed her owl's eyes on him, and waited for his next words. Prosper went on: “Your man is as hot as an oven, and he never leaves his bed--well, I'd make him hatch some eggs.” She was struck dumb at the suggestion, thinking that Prosper could not possibly be in earnest. But he continued: “I'd put five under one arm, and five under the other, the same day that I set a hen. They'd all come out at the same time; then I'd take your husband's chickens to the hen to bring up with her own. You'd rear a fine lot that way.” “Could it be done?” asked the astonished old woman. “Could it be done?” echoed the man. “Why not? Since eggs can be hatched in a warm box why shouldn't they be hatched in a warm bed?” She was struck by this reasoning, and went away soothed and reflective. A week later she entered Toine's room with her apron full of eggs, and said: “I've just put the yellow hen on ten eggs. Here are ten for you; try not to break them.” “What do you want?” asked the amazed Toine. “I want you to hatch them, you lazy creature!” she answered.