"I know that," said Mariton; "but a woman can be gay and lively, and quick to serve the guests, without allowing herself to be insulted." "Bad language is always insulting," said Père Brulet; "and it ought to cost an honest woman dear to get accustomed to such ways. Think how mortified your son will be when he hears the carters and the bagmen joking with his mother." "Luckily he's simple," said Mariton, looking at Joseph. I looked at him too, and I was surprised that he did not hear a word of what his mother was saying in a voice loud enough for me to catch every word. I gathered from that that he was "hearing thick," as we said in those days, meaning one who was hard of hearing. Joseph got up presently and went after Brulette, who was in her little goat-pen, which was nothing more than a shed made of planks stuffed with straw, where she kept about a dozen animals. He flung himself on a pile of brushwood; and having followed him (for fear of being thought inquisitive if I stayed behind), I saw that he was crying inside of him, though there were no tears in his eyes. "Are you asleep, José?" said Brulette; "if not, why are you lying there like a sick sheep? Come, give me those sticks you are lying on; I want the leaves for my goats." So saying, she began to sing,--but very softly, because it wasn't the thing to make a racket on the day of her first communion. I fancied her song had the usual effect of drawing Joseph from his dreams, for he rose, and went away. Then Brulette said to me,-- "What is the matter? He seems worse than usual." "I think he must have heard that he is to be hired out and leave his mother," I replied. "He expected it," said Brulette; "isn't it the custom for all of us to go out to service as soon as we have received the sacrament? If I were not lucky enough to be my grandfather's only child, I should have to leave home and earn my living as others do." Brulette did not seem much distressed at the thought of parting from Joseph; but when I told her that Mariton was also going to hire herself out and live far away, she began to sob, and rushing into the house, she flung herself on Mariton's neck, drying out,-- "Is it true, darling, that you are going to leave me?" "Who told you that?" asked Mariton. "It is not decided." "Yes, it is," cried Brulette; "you said so, and you want to hide it from me." "As some inquisitive boys don't know how to hold their tongue," said Mariton, with a severe glance at me, "I must tell you all. Yes, my child, you must bear it like a brave and sensible girl who has given her soul to the good God this very day." "Papa," said Brulette, turning to her grandfather, "how can you consent to let her go? Who is to take care of you?" "You, my child," replied Mariton; "you are now old enough to do your duty. Listen to me,--and you too, neighbor; for here is something I have not yet told you."