The bargain was quickly concluded. She gave her orders, detailed minutely the services that she expected of her new gardeners, and, as she dismissed them with a haughty smile, she said, in a tone that admitted of no reply:
"I think that you have religious sentiments, do you not? Here everybody goes to mass on Sunday, and receives the sacrament at Easter. I insist upon it absolutely."
They went away without speaking to each other, very serious, very sober. The road was dusty and the heat oppressive, and the poor woman walked painfully, dragging her legs after her. As she was stifling a little, she stopped, placed her bag upon the ground, and unlaced her corsets.
"Ouf!" she exclaimed, taking in deep breaths of air.
And her figure, which had been long compressed, now swelled out, revealing the characteristic roundness, the stain of motherhood, the crime. They continued on their way.
A few steps further on they entered an inn by the roadside, and ordered a quart of wine.
"Why didn't you say I was pregnant?" asked the woman.
The man answered:
"What? That she might show us the door, as the three others have done?"
"To-day or to-morrow makes but little difference."
