"What on earth do you
mean?" I had completely forgotten the ridiculous nickname that the Breton's
son had given her, for the boy had run away from home several years ago.
"They called me that," explained Paula, "because I once saved a cat's
life."
But the strong coffee had quite restored the Breton's good humor and he
hastened to add, "Yes, she did; but she hasn't told the whole story! She's
the only person in the whole village that was ever brave enough to stand up
to that big brat of mine. She wrenched the cat out of his hands, and the
boy came back to the house, I remember well, with a pair of ears well
pulled and the air of a whipped dog."
"But I didn't pull his ears," said Paula, reddening.
"Well, if you didn't, who did, then?"
But Paula shook her head and would say nothing further.
"Well, anyway, I remember that the boy was made fun of by the whole
neighborhood, and to revenge himself he gave her 'Cat Mother' for a
nickname. He, too, is a bad one like his father. To tell the truth he never
obeyed anybody, and dear knows where he is or what he's doing now. At least
he's not like you two who came here to learn how to pray with Celestina."
"Paula doesn't need to learn how to pray, Monsieur Breton," said Celestina,
"she's known how to pray for years, not only for herself, but also for
others.
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