“The statement of the nurse, Suzanne Deroux, was taken formally by her bed-side, in a ward of the Hotel Dieu, where the fever from her injuries continued, while it was doubtful whether her sight would again become perfect. As for her child, whose arm had suffered, hopes had only begun to be entertained of its recovery. ‘Was a native of Normandy, unmarried. Had two children—a girl of four, and the young child which she had left with a neighbour, to obtain support by nursing that of Madame Vilby. Had obtained the assistance of the portress in having her own child brought to her privately, at intervals, that she might still contribute to its health. Had thought it pining, as her neighbour was a Parisian—was very healthy herself, being originally a peasant—but was not allowed to go out, except with the child of Madame Vilby in the daytime, accompanied by her or a servant. On the night of the fire, had had both the children with her—and as usual, conveyed that of Madame Vilby to her bed-chamber, to be seen by her while awake. Did not see Madame Vilby after that, but fell asleep holding her own child in her arms to lull an uneasiness it showed—while that of Madame Vilby, which was younger, slept soundly at the other side of the large bed. The suffocating smoke, and the shrieks of Victorine, the fille-de-chambre, made her rise bewildered, seizing the child which she felt clasping her and again uttering complaints. She rushed to the nearest window, which would not open—that of the opposite room, however, yielded, admitting a gust of wind by which the smoke appeared to explode beyond into flame, and showing a man attracted by her cries to the adjoining wall. Confessed that her recollection of the other infant had not till then returned—that her instinct urged her to return only for her own, which she had let fall when attempting to open the first window—that she ran to search the bed, however, in vain—concluded that Victorine or some one else had snatched the child immediately from the side of the bed. Caught up her own infant from the floor where she had dropped it, and after both had been for a moment on fire from the partition of the room, was rescued by the window. Did not yet know whether any one had perished. Was certain the fire had not begun in the nursery, from the lamp on the floor—having distinctly recollected awaking in complete darkness—the lamp must have been overturned, extinguished, or taken away. Acknowledged, of her own accord, that in secretly obtaining her own infant she had committed a crime. Always slept soundly at night, having been a peasant. Did not know anything more, and had no expectation of her child living, it was so sickly from the manner of nourishment.’