"I pressed my child to my heart. I was astonished not to hear it breathe, but I said to myself, the respiration of so young a child can hardly be heard; and yet it seemed to me that it was very cold. I had no light. I waited until dawn, trying to warm it as well as I could, At daylight I found it was stiff--icy. I placed my hand on its heart; it did not beat--it was dead." And Louise burst into bitter sobs. "Oh! at this moment," continued she, "thoughts passed impossible to describe, I remember it confusedly as a dream; it was at once despair, terror, anger, and, above all, I was seized with another alarm; I no longer dreaded that Ferrand would strangle me, but I feared that if my child was found dead at my side I should be accused of having killed it. Then I had but one thought, that of concealing it from all eyes; in that way my dishonor would not be known; I would no longer have to dread the anger of my father; I should escape the vengeance of Ferrand; then I could leave his house, procure another place, and continue to earn something toward the support of my family. Alas! sir, such are the reasons which induced me to acknowledge nothing, to conceal the body of my child from all eyes. It was wrong, certainly; but the position I was in, overwhelmed on all sides, crushed by long sufferings, almost delirious, I did not reflect to what I exposed myself if I was discovered." "What tortures! what tortures!" said Rudolph, overcome. "Daylight increased," continued Louise, "in a short time every one would be awake in the house. I hesitated no longer. I wrapped up my child as well as I could; I descended very softly; I went to the end of the garden to make a hole in the ground to bury it, but it had frozen all night--the earth was too hard. Then I hid the body at the bottom of a kind of cellar where no one entered in winter. I covered it with an empty flower-box, and I returned to my room without seeing any one. Of all I tell you, sir, I have but a confused idea. Feeble as I was, I can as yet hardly comprehend how I had the nerve to do all this. At nine o'clock, Mrs. Seraphin came to know why I was not yet up. I said that I was so ill, that I begged her to let me remain in bed all day; the next day I would quit the house, since M. Ferrand sent me away. At the end of one hour he came himself. 'You are worse; this is the consequence of your self-will,' said he. 'If you had profited by my offers, to-day you would have been established with kind people, who would have taken every care of you; however, I will not be so inhuman as to let you suffer; to-night Dr. Vincent will come to see you.' At this threat I shuddered with fear. I answered that I was wrong the night before to refuse his offers; that I accepted them; but that, as yet being too ill to leave, I would go the next day but one to the Martials; and that it was useless to send for Dr. Vincent. I only wished to gain time; I was decided to leave the house, and to go to my father.