The joiner had just come from the Barrier, where he had passed part
of the day at the public-house. His blouse, without a belt, and
untied at the throat, showed none of the noble stains of work: in
his hand he held his cap, which he had just picked out of the mud;
his hair was in disorder, his eye fixed, and the pallor of
drunkenness in his face. He came reeling in, looked wildly around
him, and called for Genevieve.
She heard his voice, gave a start, and rushed into the shop; but at
the sight of the miserable man, who was trying in vain to steady
himself, she pressed the child in her arms, and bent over it with
tears.
The countrywoman and the neighbour had followed her.
"Come! come! Do you intend to pay me, after all?" cried the former,
in a rage.
"Ask the master for the money," ironically answered the woman from
next door, pointing to the joiner, who had just fallen against the
counter.
The countrywoman looked at him.
"Ah! he is the father," resumed she; "well, what idle beggars! not
to have a penny to pay honest people, and get tipsy with wine in
that way."
The drunkard raised his head.
"What! what!" stammered he; "who is it that talks of wine? I've had
nothing but brandy.
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