At the door, seeing the angry and distracted gesture of her
husband, she paused in consternation.
"But what then? Has anything gone wrong? The soup--Perine, you
unfortunate child, have you touched the soup?"
The girl pointed with triumph to where the tobacco had been.
"Good stuff, mother," she said, nodding.
"The tobacco! You have it put in!--Oh, my poor friend, no wonder you are
angry!" said Madame Didier in an undertone.
"Out with her!" cried her husband in a fierce whisper.
"Perine, Perine, and I have warned you so often to touch nothing without
leave! Now you have spoilt the soup, and we can have no dinner."
There was this inconvenience in the quick remorse which seized the girl
when Marie reproved her, however gently, that she broke at once into
sobs, which were as clumsy and unmanageable as her hands and feet. Jean
disliked them intensely, and he now made frantic signs to his wife that
she was to be sent away. "But she is as hungry as we are," pleaded
Marie, "and see, M. Plon has given me a cabbage, I can manage
something."
He was, however, inexorable; and his wife, always afraid of his
committing some imprudence, though on the whole Jean might be trusted to
take care of himself, said sorrowfully:
"Perine, my poor child, you must go; there is no dinner for you today.
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