She was aware of her reputation and received everyone with a humility that smacked of hatred.

“What do the gentlemen wish?” she asked.

“They tell me that your last child is just like an ordinary child, that he does not resemble his brothers at all,” replied my friend.  “I wanted to be sure of that.  Is it true?”

She cast on us a malicious and furious look as she said: 

“Oh, no, oh, no, my poor sir!  He is perhaps even uglier than the rest.  I have no luck, no luck!

“They are all like that, it is heartbreaking!  How can the good God be so hard on a poor woman who is all alone in the world, how can He?” She spoke hurriedly, her eyes cast down, with a deprecating air as of a wild beast who is afraid.  Her harsh voice became soft, and it seemed strange to hear those tearful falsetto tones issuing from that big, bony frame, of unusual strength and with coarse outlines, which seemed fitted for violent action, and made to utter howls like a wolf.

“We should like to see your little one,” said my friend.

I fancied she colored up.  I may have been deceived.  After a few moments of silence, she said in a louder tone: 

“What good will that do you?”

“Why do you not wish to show it to us?” replied my friend.  “There are many people to whom you will show it; you know whom I mean.”

She gave a start, and resuming her natural voice, and giving free play to her anger, she screamed: 

“Was that why you came here?  To insult me?  Because my children are like animals, tell me?  You shall not see him, no, no, you shall not see him!  Go away, go away!  I do not know why you all try to torment me like that.”

She walked over toward us, her hands on her hips.  At the brutal tone of her voice, a sort of moaning, or rather a mewing, the lamentable cry of an idiot, came from the adjoining room.  I shivered to the marrow of my bones.  We retreated before her.

“Take care, Devil” (they called her the Devil); said my friend, “take care; some day you will get yourself into trouble through this.”

She began to tremble, beside herself with fury, shaking her fist and roaring: 

“Be off with you!  What will get me into trouble?  Be off with you, miscreants!”

She was about to attack us, but we fled, saddened at what we had seen.  When we got outside, my friend said: 

“Well, you have seen her, what do you think of her?”

“Tell me the story of this brute,” I replied.

And this is what he told me as we walked along the white high road, with ripe crops on either side of it which rippled like the sea in the light breeze that passed over them.

“This woman was one a servant on a farm.  She was an honest girl, steady and economical.  She was never known to have an admirer, and never suspected of any frailty.  But she went astray, as so many do.