Madame was touched to the quick. Starting tears dimmed the heavy eyes. Had she not thought of all this a thousand times? If Pierre cared so much for li'l Élise how much more reason had she to care? Li'l Élise had been the only bright spot in her dreary life, yet she was firm. Élise had been very dear to her in the past, but her duty was plain. Her voice was gentler. "Élise is not ours, Pierre. It is harder to do now what we ought to have done long ago." Pierre rose and walked excitedly back and forth. He was speaking half to himself, half to Madame. "Sixtin year 'go li'l Élise mammy die. Sixtin year! She no say, 'Madame Marie, tek my li'l babby back Eas' to my friend, _hein_? No. She say, 'Madame Marie, my poor li'l babby ain' got no mammy no mo'. Tek good care my poor li'l babby.' Then she go die. We mek good care of ze li'l Élise, me and you, heh? We sen' away Élise? _Sacré non!_ Nevaire!" Pierre stopped, and looked fiercely at Madame. "Yes," answered Madame. "Her mammy asked me to care for her little baby, but it was for her father. When her father died he made you promise to give her to her friends. Don't I know how hard it is?" Her tears were flowing freely now. "Every year we said, 'She is yet too young to go. Next year we will keep our promise,' and next year she was dearer to us. And now she is sixteen. She must go." Pierre broke in fiercely: "She shall not! Sixtin year? Sixtin year she know honly me, Pierre, her daddy, and you, her mammy. What you tink, heh? Élise go school in one beeg city, heh? She mek herself choke wiz ze brick house and ze stone street. She get sick and lonesome for ze mountain, for her hol' daddy and her hol' mammy, for ze grass and ze flower." "That is for her to say. Send her away as you promised. Then"--Madame's heavy eyes grew deep, almost beautiful--"then, if she comes back to us!" Pierre turned sullenly. "She is mine. Mine and yours. She shall stay." Madame's tears ceased flowing. "She shall go." Her temerity frightened her. "I will tell her all if you don't send her away." Pierre did not explode, as she expected. Instead, there was the calm of invincible purpose. He held up one finger impressively. "I settle hall zis. _Écoutez!_ She shall marry. Right away. Queek. Da's hall." He left the room before Madame had time to reply.