"At Rougemont, you know, madame, your little one would be just the same
as at home. There's no better air in the Department; people come there
from Bayeux to recruit their health. And if you only knew how well the
little ones are cared for! It's the only occupation of the district, to
have little Parisians to coddle and love! And, besides, I wouldn't charge
you dear. I've a friend of mine who already has three nurslings, and, as
she naturally brings them up with the bottle, it wouldn't put her out to
take a fourth for almost next to nothing. Come, doesn't that suit
you--doesn't that tempt you?"
When, however, she saw that tears were Norine's only answer, she made an
impatient gesture like an active woman who cannot afford to lose her
time. At each of her fortnightly journeys, as soon as she had rid herself
of her batch of nurses at the different offices, she hastened round the
nurses' establishments to pick up infants, so as to take the train
homewards the same evening together with two or three women who, as she
put it, helped her "to cart the little ones about." On this occasion she
was in a greater hurry, as Madame Bourdieu, who employed her in a variety
of ways, had asked her to take Norine's child to the Foundling Hospital
if she did not take it to Rougemont.
"And so," said La Couteau, turning to Madame Bourdieu, "I shall have only
the other lady's child to take back with me. Well, I had better see her
at once to make final arrangements. Then I'll take this one and carry it
yonder as fast as possible, for my train starts at six o'clock."
When La Couteau and Madame Bourdieu had gone off to speak to Rosine, who
was the "other lady" referred to, the room sank into silence save for the
wailing and sobbing of Norine. Mathieu had seated himself near the
cradle, gazing compassionately at the poor little babe, who was still
peacefully sleeping. Soon, however, Victoire, the little servant girl,
who had hitherto remained silent, as if absorbed in her sewing, broke the
heavy silence and talked on slowly and interminably without raising her
eyes from her needle.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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