Celestin Maloisel and Cesaire Paumelle bent their heads to the storm, but Prosper Horslaville egged on the old woman, and was only amused at her wrath.

One day, when she was more angry than usual, he said: 

“Do you know what I’d do if I were you?”

She fixed her owl’s eyes on him, and waited for his next words.

Prosper went on: 

“Your man is as hot as an oven, and he never leaves his bed—­well, I’d make him hatch some eggs.”

She was struck dumb at the suggestion, thinking that Prosper could not possibly be in earnest.  But he continued: 

“I’d put five under one arm, and five under the other, the same day that I set a hen.  They’d all come out at the same time; then I’d take your husband’s chickens to the hen to bring up with her own.  You’d rear a fine lot that way.”

“Could it be done?” asked the astonished old woman.

“Could it be done?” echoed the man.  “Why not?  Since eggs can be hatched in a warm box why shouldn’t they be hatched in a warm bed?”

She was struck by this reasoning, and went away soothed and reflective.

A week later she entered Toine’s room with her apron full of eggs, and said: 

“I’ve just put the yellow hen on ten eggs.  Here are ten for you; try not to break them.”

“What do you want?” asked the amazed Toine.

“I want you to hatch them, you lazy creature!” she answered.

He laughed at first; then, finding she was serious, he got angry, and refused absolutely to have the eggs put under his great arms, that the warmth of his body might hatch them.

But the old woman declared wrathfully: 

“You’ll get no dinner as long as you won’t have them.  You’ll see what’ll happen.”

Tome was uneasy, but answered nothing.

When twelve o’clock struck, he called out: 

“Hullo, mother, is the soup ready?”

“There’s no soup for you, lazy-bones,” cried the old woman from her kitchen.

He thought she must be joking, and waited a while.  Then he begged, implored, swore, “tacked to the north” and “tacked to the south,” and beat on the wall with his fists, but had to consent at last to five eggs being placed against his left side; after which he had his soup.

When his friends arrived that afternoon they thought he must be ill, he seemed so constrained and queer.

They started the daily game of dominoes.  But Tome appeared to take no pleasure in it, and reached forth his hand very slowly, and with great precaution.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” asked Horslaville.

“I have a sort of stiffness in the shoulder,” answered Toine.

Suddenly they heard people come into the inn.  The players were silent.

It was the mayor with the deputy.  They ordered two glasses of Extra-Special, and began to discuss local affairs.  As they were talking in somewhat low tones Toine wanted to put his ear to the wall, and, forgetting all about his eggs, he made a sudden “tack to the north,” which had the effect of plunging him into the midst of an omelette.