Child labor -- Fiction; French fiction -- Translations into English; Illegitimate children -- Fiction
“And how are we to-day?” said Bélisaire, cheerily, though he kept his
tears back with difficulty. Madame Bélisaire lays on the table two fine
oranges she has brought, and then, after a kind remark or two, sits in
silence.
Jack does not speak; his eyes are wide open and fixed. Of what is he
thinking?
“Jack,” said the good woman, suddenly, “I am going to find your
mother;” and she smiled encouragingly.
Yes, that is what he wants; now that he knows that he must die, he
forgets all the wrongs his mother has been guilty of toward him.
But Bélisaire does not wish his wife to go. He knows that she holds in
utter contempt “the fine lady,” as she calls Jack’s mother, that she
detests the man with the moustache, and that she will make a scene, and
perhaps—who knows but the police may be called in?
“No,” she said, “that is all nonsense;” but finally yielded to the
persuasions of her husband, and allowed him to go in her stead.
“I will bring her this time, never fear!” he said, with an air of
confidence.
“Where are you going?” asked the concierge, stopping him at the foot of
the staircase.
“To M. D’Argenton’s.”
“Are you the man who was here last night?”
“Precisely,” answered Bélisaire, innocently.
“Then you need not go up, for there is no one there; they have gone to
the country, and will not return for some time.”
In the country, in all this cold and snow! It seemed impossible. In
vain did he insist, in vain did he say that the lady’s son was very
ill—dying in the hospital. The concierge held to his statement, and
would not permit Bélisaire to go one step further.
The poor man retreated to the street again. Suddenly a brilliant idea
struck him. Jack had never told him any of the particulars of what had
taken place between the Rivals and himself; he had merely stated the
fact that the marriage was broken off. But at Indret and in Paris he
had often spoken of the goodness and charity of the kind doctor. If he
could only be induced to come to Jack’s bedside, so that the poor boy
could have some familiar face about him! Without further hesitation he
started for Etiolles. Alas, we saw him at the end of this long walk!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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