“Again I ask, what will become of it? Oh, what will become of it? That woman--that nurse, who is she? What interest will she take in this unfortunate orphan? She will be indifferent to its tears, to its sorrows; miserable woman, its poor weeping will never move her as I have been stirred by its one feeble wail! “Who is this woman? Who is this woman, I ask. Justine says she will answer for her, but has Justine the heart of a mother, which could answer for her, could judge her? I, yes, I would have known so quickly if she was worthy of confidence. Why did I not think of that? Why did I not see her myself? Ah, God is just! the guilty wife could be nothing but a bad mother! “Poor little one! He is going to suffer. Who will protect him? Who will defend him? If this woman is unfaithful,--if she is avaricious, she is going to let him want for everything,--he is going to be cold,--he is going to be hungry,--perhaps she will beat him! Oh, my child, my child! “Oh! I am an unnatural mother,--I am base,--I am infamous,--I am afraid,--I have not the courage of my crime. No, no, I will not! I will not! I will brave all, the return of my husband, the shame, ay, death itself, but I will not be separated for ever from my child; nothing but death shall separate us,--there is time enough yet Justine is coming. I am going to tell her to go for the nurse and instruct her to remain here. “Nothing, nothing!--oh, my God! to be at the mercy of these people like that! Justine refuses to tell me the route this woman has taken,--she has dared to speak to me of my duties, of what I owe to my husband. Oh, shame, shame! once I was so proud, to be reduced to this! Yet she weeps while she denies me; poor woman, she thinks I am insane. “What is so awful is, that I dare not invoke Heaven’s blessing on this unfortunate child, abandoned at its birth; it is devoted to grief. What will become of it? “Ah! you at least will not abandon it, but in his infancy, at that age when he will have so much need of care and tenderness, what can you do for him? Nothing, oh, my God, nothing! And besides, may you not die in battle? Oh, how dreadful would that be--fortunately I am so weak, that I shall not survive this agony, or rather I shall die under the first look of him whom I have so terribly offended. “Each one of his letters, so faithful, so noble, so tender, strikes me a mortal blow. Yesterday I announced to him the fatal news, another lie. How he will suffer! Already he loved the child so much! “Ah, how dreadful, how dreadful! but this struggle will soon end, yes, I feel it, the end is very near. “Pierre, I wish nevertheless to see you before I die. It is more than a presentiment--it is a certainty. I tell you that never shall I see him again. “I am sure of it, if I see him again, I feel it, his presence will kill me. “To-morrow you must leave France.