"I can't Baby," she answered, pushing with all her strength against the panels. And giving way to her grief, she dropped into a chair and sobbed. For the first time, despair seized her. Woman's tenderest attribute--the maternal instinct--vanquished her strong heart, even tho her attachment was for another woman's child. Perhaps, on that very account, 'twas more highly idealized. Baby Dick continued to call to her in his sweet, pleading tones and she hid her face in the satin cushions, in a longing to drown his voice. But though she heard his wails more faintly, they seemed on that account more plaintive. She jumped into bed, drew the clothes over her head and sobbed in time to his moaning. "O if I might break down that door and clasp his little body in my arms, I should fling away every ambitious project, even happiness with René. My love and pity outweigh every other consideration." At eight o'clock breakfast was brought her by the two men who had come with the Duchess during the night. She asked several questions, to which no answer whatever was given. The morning seemed interminable. At noon the same attendants brought a lunch which, like the others, passed in silence. Amélie could not eat more than a morsel of bread, for the child's cries were incessant. She refrained from talking to him, for doing so seemed to increase his suffering; but at length she could contain herself no longer, and tapping on the panels, she called affectionately: "Baby! Baby! This is your Mamma 'Mélie." "I am hungry, mamma!" he cried. "Hungry, darling?" she exclaimed, a frightful suspicion crossing her mind. "Have they given you nothing to eat? Have you had no broth? Even tho you are not in my arms, eat everything they give you, Baby; I am close by. It is just as though I were with you." "But Mamma 'Mélie, they give me nothing, no broth, no milk. O give me something, mamma!" A chill of horror ran through her veins. O were they capable of such cruelty? It must be that they had forgotten to take food to little Dick. Who would deliberately starve a child? But to think that he had been a whole day unfed! She wrung her hands and threw herself against the walls. With difficulty she repressed herself from screaming aloud. She shook the door with all her strength, though she well knew that that strength was impotent. Her temples seemed bursting. She felt on the verge of dementia. She recalled her father's imprisonment and the numerous historical crimes related. But O to starve a child! This too was possible. Depravity is boundless when it possesses a human heart. When evening at last came and the same speechless attendant brought her supper, she darted a withering look at him, saying: "Order food taken to the child at once! If you are not tigers, have pity on him. Starve me if you will. What has he to do with this miserable plot?" The man made no answer, whatever. He fixed his eyes upon her and she knew that he was Volpetti indeed.