I followed him. The girl was lying in her bed, which in truth did not seem to be very soft; however she had, in addition to her ordinary bed, the mattress that her lover had brought. The midwife was seated in the armchair, the magnificence of which was in striking contrast to the few pieces of furniture with which the room was supplied; she had her feet on a foot-warmer, although she was sitting directly in front of the fireplace; to be sure, the fire was a very modest one. There was nothing about the woman to indicate sensibility; one could see that she was there to practise her profession and that was all; and from her unamiable expression and the glances that she cast about her, I could see that the poverty of the room made her apprehensive that she would not be well paid for her services; however, she had agreed to pass the night there, and the young man was very grateful to her. Ernest walked very softly to the bed; but the girl instantly held out her hand to him, saying: “Oh! I am not asleep, I have no desire to sleep; but I am very comfortable now. The only thing is that I am afraid it will tire you to sit up all night; you are just getting over a sickness yourself, and you are not strong yet. Go home; you know that I am out of danger; the doctor said so, and since madame will stay----” “Oh, yes, I will stay,” said the midwife, in a sour tone, “although it puts me out; but still--great heaven! how cold it is in this room! the wind blows everywhere. A fine fire that! just two sticks! ain’t there even a pair of bellows here?” Ernest hastily fetched the bellows, and handed them to the woman; then he returned to the bed, saying: “You must know, my love, that I shall not leave you. But here is Monsieur Blémont, who was good enough to go out to call a doctor, when he came up an hour ago; we haven’t so much as thought of thanking him.” “Ah! that is true, my dear.--I beg pardon, monsieur, pray excuse me; but I was in such pain then----” “You owe me no thanks, for it was not I who found your doctor.” “No matter,” said Ernest, “you showed some interest in us, and I shall never forget it.” “What a miserable pair of bellows! Not two sous’ worth of wind! it must be pleasant here in freezing weather!” I turned toward the woman; I should have liked to impose silence upon her, for it seemed to me that her indiscreet remarks must be painful to the two lovers. But I was mistaken; they were not listening to her. Ernest was holding his darling’s hand, and she was gazing lovingly into his eyes; after their fear of an eternal separation, it seemed to them that they had recovered each other. They were entirely absorbed in their love. But Marguerite sighed, and after a moment I heard her whisper to Ernest: “What a pity, my dear! it was a boy!” Poor child! although hardly able to keep herself alive, she wanted a child, because every woman is proud to be a mother, and a child is an additional bond between her and her lover.