She held it for a long time; and it seemed to her that her hands were used to that clumsy body and to the badly-jointed arms and legs. Nothing about the doll disgusted her. She felt as if she could kiss the little porcelain forehead, the prim, painted eyebrows, the chubby cheeks. There was a faint sound behind her. She turned round and saw a dirty-looking woman with curiously staring eyes and great wisps of white hair all round her head. She was showing her teeth in a fixed and silent laugh. On the linen rag that did duty as a neckerchief hung a queer necklace made of chips of glass, pebbles, corks and twisted grass. Suddenly the face became contracted with rage: its owner had caught sight of the doll. She ran up to Gilberte, snatched it from her hands and brandished it as though she would have struck the girl with it. But the doll fell to the ground, the threatening gesture ended in an attitude of hesitation and the old woman, with her body bent forward and her eyes staring, gazed at Gilberte. Gilberte was frightened at first, but became gradually reassured under this steady gaze in which she seemed to feel an ardent and curious affection. She smiled at the old woman, who gave a silent laugh, picked up the doll and handed it to her humbly and gently. Gilberte refused to take it and the old woman grasped her hand and led her to the second floor, to a cupboard crammed with child’s shoes, rattles, broken toys, a little cradle, a chair on wheels and showed them to her with an air of saying: “Pick where you like, take what you like; I give them to you.” But none of these things tempted Gilberte. Then the old woman took her down to the garden, led her to an acacia-tree, to a wooden bench, to what remained of a dovecote and, at each halt, questioned her with her eager eyes. At last, Gilberte felt weary; little by little, since the woman’s arrival, the deserted house had lost its mysterious charm for her; and she began to think of going. Thereupon the old crone, anticipating her wishes, took a key from her pocket and opened the rusty gate. She stooped, as Gilberte went out, and kissed the hem of her dress. Turning round, a few minutes after, Gilberte saw her standing in the middle of the road, making signs to her. When she returned to the Logis, she told her adventure to Adèle, who exclaimed: “Why, it must have been Désirée, the Despriols’ old nurse! She is a poor old madwoman, but quite harmless, and lives near Notre-Dame-sur-l’Eau. She does nothing but wander round the house where she was a servant. She has been mad for quite two years, ever since the death of her husband and her three sons. It came upon her all of a sudden....” “But had the Despriols a child?” asked Gilberte.