‘Your mother did give you her clock, didn’t she, the one with the girl playing at cup-and-ball?’

He racked his memory and answered:

‘Yes, yes. She said to me (but it’s a long time ago, it was when she came here), she said to me: “That clock will be for you, if you take good care of me”.’

Madame Caravan, her fears at rest, brightened up.

‘Then, you know, we must go and get it, because if you let your sister come, she’ll prevent us from taking it.’

He hesitated: ‘Do you think so?’

She got angry: ‘Certainly I think so; once it’s here who’s going to know? it’s ours. It’s the same with that chest of drawers in her room, the one with the marble top. She gave it to me, to me, one day she was in a good temper. We’ll bring it down at the same time.’

Caravan seemed incredulous.

‘But, my dear, it’s a great responsibility.’

She turned on him, furious.

‘Oh, is that so! you’re always the same then! You will let your children die of hunger, you will, rather than make the slightest movement. From the minute she gave it to me, that chest of drawers is ours, isn’t it? And if your sister isn’t pleased, she’ll say so to me, won’t she? I don’t care a snap of my fingers for your sister. Come on, get up, so that we can carry off at once what your mother gave us.’

Trembling and defeated, he got out of bed, and, as he was pulling on his trousers she stopped him.

‘It isn’t worth the trouble of dressing. Come on, keep on your pants, that’s enough: as for me, I’ll go just as I am.’

And both of them, in their night attire, set out, climbed the stairs noiselessly, opened the door with every precaution, and entered the room where the four candles, lighted round the plate with the holy box- wood, seemed alone to watch the dead woman in her rigid sleep: for Rosalie, stretched in a chair, her legs sticking out, her hands crossed on her skirt, her head fallen to one side, motionless also, her mouth open, was sleeping, and snoring a little.

Caravan took the clock. It was one of those grotesque objects of which Empire art has produced so many. A young girl in gilded bronze, her head adorned with various flowers, was holding in her hand a cup-and-ball, the bail of which served as a pendulum.

‘Give me that,’ said his wife to him, ‘and take the marble slab of the drawers.’

He obeyed, breathing heavily, and he perched the slab on his shoulder with considerable effort.

Then the couple went away. Caravan stooped under the doorway, began to descend the staircase trembling, while his wife, walking backwards, lighted him with one hand, having the clock under her other arm.

When they were in their own room, she heaved a deep sigh.

‘The worst is over,’ she said, ‘let’s get the rest.’

But the drawers of the chest were quite full of the old woman’s clothes. These had to be hidden somewhere.