Jean-Jacques softly opened the door and went, still more softly, into the kitchen where she was muttering to herself.
"But, Flore," said the poor sheep, "this is the first time I have heard of this wish of yours; how do you know whether I will agree to it or not ?" "In the first place," she said, "there ought to be a man in the house.
Everybody knows you have ten, fifteen, twenty thousand francs here; if they came to rob you we should both be murdered.

For my part, I don't care to wake up some fine morning chopped in quarters, as happened to that poor servant-girl who was silly enough to defend her master.

Well! if the robbers knew there was a man in the house as brave as Caesar and who wasn't born yesterday,--for Max could swallow three burglars as quick as a flash,--well, then I should sleep easy.

People may tell you a lot of stuff,--that I love him, that I adore him,--and some say this and some say that! Do you know what you ought to say?
You ought to answer that you know it; that your father told you on his deathbed to take care of his poor Max.

That will stop people's tongues; for every stone in Issoudun can tell you he paid Max's schooling--and so! Here's nine years that I have eaten your bread--" "Flore,--Flore!" "-- and many a one in this town has paid court to me, I can tell you! Gold chains here, and watches there,--what don't they offer me?
'My little Flore,' they say, 'why won't you leave that old fool of a Rouget,'-- for that's what they call you.