But as for her not coming again, he doesn't mean that, no,
no--he's so kind hearted that he would be the last to keep her away;
besides, I know very well that while he grumbles he feels an interest in
hearing her do those wonderful sums. Anything is better for him than
seeing no one but stupid me from year's end to year's end--my poor Jean!
Three years! I declare it quite hurts me to go out and about, though to
be sure I must. But it seems so selfish."
There is no knowing to what depths of accusing wickedness Madame
Didier's meditations would have led her, but that presently she heard a
heavy creaking step upon the stairs; and flew to awake her husband and
to hustle him into his refuge. M. Plon's visits were rare, and she
discouraged them with all her might, yet when he arrived panting and
puffing at the door, she was standing by the stove working, with a
little coquettish air of greeting about her.
"You don't mean to say that you have brought the journal yourself, M.
Plon! Now that is kind of you, but it is disarranging yourself too much
to climb up those steep stairs, when I could have fetched it with
pleasure."
"Ugh, ugh, they are steep, there's no denying it," said Plon, sinking
into the rickety chair. "But what would you have? Up here on the sixth,
you can't expect all the luxuries of the first or second.
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