"Why, white, of course, Father Châtelain; I really thought you knew that."
"Is her milk as white and as good as the milk of your snowy pet, Musette?"
"Every bit as good in colour and quality."
"To be sure! why, Father Châtelain, what difference can it possibly make to the milk whether the cow that gives it is black, white, red, or brown?"
"How, then, my good girl, can it in any way signify whether a doctor has a black or white skin, or what his complexion may be?"
"Well," answered Claudine, fairly hunted into a corner from which no argument could rescue her,--"well, as regards what makes a black doctor not so good as a white one, it is--it is, because a black skin is so very ugly to look at, and a white one is so much more agreeable to one's eyes; I'm sure I can't think of any other reason, Father Châtelain, if I try for ever; but with cows the colour of the skin makes not the very least difference, of that you may be assured; but, then, you know there's a deal of difference between a cow and a man."
These not very clear physiognomical reflections of Claudine, touching the effect of light or dark skins in the human and animal race, were interrupted by the return of Jean René, blowing his fingers with animation as he had before blown his soup.
"Oh, how cold! how cold it is this night!" exclaimed he, on entering; "it is enough to freeze one to death; it is a pretty deal more snug and comfortable in-doors than out this bitter night. Oh, how cold it is!"
'The frost that cometh from North and East Biteth the most and ceaseth the least.'
Don't you know that, my lad?" said the old superintendent Châtelain. "But who was it that rang so late?"
"A poor blind man and a boy who leads him about, Father Châtelain."
"And what does this poor blind man want?" inquired Châtelain.
"The poor man and his son were going by the cross-road to Louvres, and have lost themselves in the snow; and as the cold is enough to turn a man into an icicle, and the night is pitch dark, the poor blind father has come to entreat permission for himself and lad to pass the night on the farm; he says he shall be for ever thankful for leave to lie on a little straw under a hovel, or in any out-building."
"Oh, as for that, I am quite sure that Madame Georges, who never refuses charity to any unfortunate being, will willingly permit them to do so; but we must first acquaint her with it; go, Claudine, and tell her the whole story." Claudine disappeared.