The child went on talking. No one answered her. Sabine did not move. Christophe could not see what she was doing, he was sure she was doing nothing: she was not even looking at the box in her hands. The silence went on and on. The little girl grew uneasy and slipped down from Christophe's knees.
Sabine turned sharply and took her in her arms. The box was spilled on the floor: the little girl shouted with glee and ran on hands and knees after the buttons rolling under the furniture. Sabine went to the window again and laid her cheek against the pane. She seemed to be absorbed in what she saw outside.
"Good-night!" said Christophe, ill at ease. She did not turn her head, and said in a low voice:
On Sundays the house was empty during the afternoon. The whole family went to church for Vespers. Sabine did not go. Christophe jokingly reproached her with it once when he saw her sitting at her door in the little garden, while the lovely bells were bawling themselves hoarse summoning her. She replied in the same tone that only Mass was compulsory: not Vespers: it was then no use, and perhaps a little indiscreet to be too zealous: and she liked to think that God would be rather pleased than angry with her.
"You have made God in your own image," said Christophe.
"I should be so bored if I were in His place," replied she with conviction.
"You would not bother much about the world if you were in His place."
"All that I should ask of it would be that it should not bother itself about me."
"Perhaps it would be none the worse for that," said Christophe.
"Tssh!" cried Sabine, "we are being irreligious."
"I don't see anything irreligious in saying that God is like you. I am sure He is flattered."
"Will you be silent!" said Sabine, half laughing, half angry. She was beginning to be afraid that God would be scandalized. She quickly turned the conversation.
"Besides," she said, "it is the only time in the week when one can enjoy the garden in peace."
"Yes," said Christophe. "They are gone." They looked at each other.
"How silent it is," muttered Sabine. "We are not used to it. One hardly knows where one is...."
"Oh!" cried Christophe suddenly and angrily.
"There are days when I would like to strangle her!" There was no need to ask of whom he was speaking.