Madame was having a struggle with herself. It showed plainly on the thin, anxious face. The lips compressed with determination, the eyes set, then wavered, and again the indeterminate lines of acquiescent subjection gained their accustomed ascendency. Back and forth assertion and complaisance fled and followed; only assertion was holding its own. The eggs had disappeared, also the greater part of the toast. Pierre swallowed the last of his coffee, and, without a look at his silent wife, began to push his chair from the table. Madame's voice startled him. "Élise is sixteen," she ventured. Pierre fell back in his chair, astonished. The words were simple and uncompromising, but the intonation suggested that they were not final. "Well?" he asked, explosively. "When are you going to send Élise away to school?" "To school?" Pierre was struggling with his astonishment. "Yes." Madame was holding herself to her determination with an effort. "To school? _Baste!_ She read, she write, she mek ze figure, is it not suffice? Heh?" "That makes no difference. You promised her father that you would send her away to school." Pierre looked around apprehensively. "Shut up! Kip quiet!" "I won't shut up, and I won't keep quiet." Madame's blood was warming. The sensation was as pleasant as it was unusual. "I will keep quiet for myself. I won't for Élise." "Élise! Élise! Ain't I do all right by Élise?" Pierre asked, aggressively. "She have plenty to eat, plenty to wear, you tek good care of her. Don't I tek good care, also? Me? Pierre? She mek no complain, heh?" "That isn't what her father wanted, and it isn't what you promised him." Pierre looked thoughtful; his face softened slightly. "We have no children, you and me. We have honly Élise, one li'l girl, _la bonne_ Élise. You wan' mek me give up _la bonne_ Élise? _P'quoi?_" His face blazed again as he looked up wrathfully. "You wan' mek her go to school! _P'quoi?_ So she learn mek _teedle, teedle_ on ze piano? So she learn speak gran'? So she tink of me, Pierre, one li'l Frenchmens, not good enough for her, for mek her shame wiz her gran' friends? Heh? Who mek ze care for ze li'l babby? Who mek her grow up strong? Heh? You mek her go school. You mek ze gran' dam-zelle. You mek her go back to her pip'l. You mek me, Pierre, you, grow hol' wiz noddings? Hall ze res' ze time wiz no li'l Élise? How you like li'l Élise go away and mek ze marry, and w'en she have li'l children, she say to her li'l children, '_Mes enfants, voila!_ Pierre and Madame, _très bon_ Pierre and Madame,' and _les petits enfants_ mek big eyes at Pierre and Madame and li'l Élise? She say, '_Pauvres enfants_, Pierre and Madame will not hurt you. _Bon_ Pierre! _Bonne_ Madame!'" Pierre made a gesture of deprecating pity.