"What?
you are within an inch of crying for my mother, you who have your own trouble at this hour." "Monsieur, our situations are so alike, I may well spare some little sympathy for your misfortune." "Thank you, my good young lady.

Well, then, to business; while you were praying to the Virgin, I was saying a word or two for my part to her who is no more." "Sir!" "Oh! it was nothing beautiful like the things you said to the other.
Can I turn phrases?
I saw her behind her little counter in the Rue Quincampoix; for she is a woman of the people, is my mother.

I saw myself come to the other side of the counter, and I said, 'Look here, mother, here is the devil to pay about this new house.

The old woman talks of dying if we take her from her home, and the young one weeps and prays to all the saints in paradise; what shall we do, eh ?' Then I thought my old woman said to me, 'Jean, you are a soldier, a sort of vagabond; what do you want with a house in France?
you who are always in a tent in Italy or Austria, or who knows where.

Have you the courage to give honest folk so much pain for a caprice?
Come now,' says she, 'the lady is of my age, say you, and I can't keep your fine house, because God has willed it otherwise; so give her my place; so then you can fancy it is me you have set down at your hearth: that will warm your heart up a bit, you little scamp,' said my old woman in her rough way.