And other low, sweet little voices repeated, like a refrain: "Thank-you-Ma-dame." The two men, in astonishment, came and stood behind the children, and gazed silently at Marsa.
"And your baby, Madame ?" said the Tzigana, looking at the sleeping infant, that still pressed its rosy lips to the mother's breast.

"How pretty it is! Will you permit me to offer it its baptismal dress ?" "Its baptismal dress ?" repeated the mother.
"Oh, Madame!" ejaculated the father, twisting his cap between his fingers.
"Or a cloak, just as you please," added Marsa.
The poor people on the barge made no reply, but looked at one another in bewilderment.
"Is it a little girl ?" asked the Tzigana.
"No, Madame, no," responded the mother.

"A boy." "Come here, jean," said Marsa to the oldest child.

"Yes, come here, my little man." Jean came forward, glancing askance at his mother, as if to know whether he should obey.
"Here, jean," said the young girl, "this is for your baby brother." And into the little joined hands of the boy, Marsa let fall a purse, through whose meshes shone yellow pieces of gold.
The people of the barge thought they were dreaming, and stood open-mouthed in amazement, while Jean cried out: "Mamma, see, mamma! Mamma! Mamma!" Then the younger bargeman said to Marsa: "Madame, no, no! we can not accept.

It is too much.