as if she had witnessed some terrible accident. She sat down again before the fire, and asked: “How is she?”
Julien, preoccupied and nervous, was pacing up and down the room. He seemed to be getting angry, and did not reply at first. Then he stopped and said: “What do you intend to do with this girl?”
She did not understand, and looked at her husband. “Why, what do you mean? I do not know.”
Then suddenly flying into a rage, he exclaimed: “We cannot keep a bastard in the house.”
Jeanne was very much bewildered, and said at the end of a long silence: “But, my friend, perhaps we could put it out to nurse?”
He cut her short: “And who will pay the bill? You will, no doubt.”
She reflected for some time, trying to find some way out of the difficulty; at length she said: “Why, the father will take care of it, of the child; and if he marries Rosalie, there will be no more difficulty.”
Julien, as though his patience were exhausted, replied furiously: “The father! — the father! — do you know him — the father? No, is it not so? Well then —— ?”
Jeanne, much affected, became excited: “But you certainly would not let the girl go away like that. It would be cowardly! We will inquire the name of the man, and we will go and find him, and he will have to explain matters.”
Julien had calmed down and resumed his pacing up and down. “My dear,” he said, “she will not tell the name of the man; she will not tell you any more than she will tell me — and, if he does not want her? … We cannot, however, keep a woman and her illegitimate child under our roof, don’t you understand?”
Jeanne, persistent, replied: “Then he must be a wretch, this man. But we must certainly find out who it is, and then he will have us to deal with.”
Julien colored, became annoyed again, and said: “But — meanwhile —— ?”
She did not know what course to take, and asked: “What do you propose?”
“Oh, I? That’s very simple. I would give her some money and send her to the devil with her brat.”
The young wife, indignant, was disgusted with him. “That shall never be,” she said. “She is my foster-sister, that girl; we grew up together. She has made a mistake, so much the worse; but I will not cast her out of doors on that account; and, if it is necessary, I will bring up the child.”
Then Julien’s wrath exploded: “And we should earn a fine reputation, we, with our name and our position! And they would say of us everywhere that we were protecting vice, harboring beggars; and decent people would never set their foot inside our doors. What are you thinking of? You must be crazy!”
She had remained quite calm. “I shall never cast off Rosalie; and if you do not wish her to stay, my mother will take her; and we shall surely succeed in finding out the name of the father of the child.”
He left the room in exasperation, banging the door after him and exclaiming: “What stupid ideas women have!”
In the afternoon Jeanne went up to see the patient. The little maid, watched over by Widow Dentu, was lying still in her bed, her eyes wide open, while the nurse held the newborn babe in her arms.
As soon as Rosalie perceived her mistress, she began to sob, hiding her face in the covers and shaking with her sorrow. Jeanne wanted to kiss her, but she avoided it by keeping her face covered. But the nurse interfered, and drawing away the sheet, uncovered her face, and she let Jeanne kiss her, weeping still, but more quietly.
A meagre fire was burning in the grate; the room was cold; the child was crying. Jeanne did not dare to speak of the little one, for fear of another attack, and she took her maid’s hand as she said mechanically: “It will not matter, it will not matter.” The poor girl glanced furtively at the nurse, and trembled as the infant cried, and the remembrance of her sorrow came to her mind occasionally in a convulsive sob, while suppressed tears choked her.
Jeanne kissed her again, and murmured softly in her ear: “We will take good care of it, never fear, my girl.” Then as she was beginning to cry again, Jeanne made her escape.
She came to see her every day, and each time Rosalie burst into tears at the sight of her mistress.
The child was put out to nurse at a neighbor’s.
Julien, however, hardly spoke to his wife, as though he had nourished anger against her ever since she refused to send away the maid. He referred to the subject one day, but Jeanne took from her pocket a letter from the baroness asking them to send the girl to them at once if they would not keep her at the “Poplars.” Julien, furious, cried: “Your mother is as foolish as you are!” but he did not insist any more.
Two weeks later the patient was able to get up and take up her work again.
One morning, Jeanne made her sit down and, taking her hands and looking steadfastly at her, she said:
“See here, my girl, tell me everything.”
Rosalie began to tremble, and faltered:
“What, madame?”
“Whose is it, this child?”
The little maid was overcome with confusion, and she sought wildly to withdraw her hands so as to hide her face. But Jeanne kissed her in spite of herself, and consoled her, saying: “It is a misfortune, but cannot be helped, my girl. You were weak, but that happens to many others. If the father marries you, no one will think of it again.”
Rosalie sighed as if she were suffering, and from time to time made an effort to disengage herself and run away.
Jeanne resumed: “I understand perfectly that you are ashamed; but you see that I am not angry, that I speak kindly to you. If I ask you the name of the man it is for your own good, for I feel from your grief that he has deserted you, and because I wish to prevent that. Julien will go and look for him, you see, and we will oblige him to marry you; and as we will employ you both, we will oblige him also to make you happy.”
This time Rosalie gave such a jerk that she snatched her hands away from her mistress and ran off as if she were mad.
That evening at dinner Jeanne said to Julien: “I tried to persuade Rosalie to tell me the name of her betrayer. I did not succeed. You try to find out so that we can compel this miserable man to marry her.”
But Julien became angry: “Oh! you know I do not wish to hear anything about it. You wish to keep this girl. Keep her, but do not bother me about her.”
Since the girl’s illness he appeared to be more irritable than ever; and he had got into the way of never speaking to his wife without shouting as if he were in a rage, while she, on the contrary, would lower her voice, be gentle and conciliating, to avoid all argument; but she often wept at night after she went to bed.
In spite of his constant irritability, her husband had become more affectionate than customary since their return.
Rosalie was soon quite well and less sad, although she appeared terrified, pursued by some unknown fear, and she ran away twice when Jeanne tried to question
