He knows what it is; but M. de la Perriere wishes to know also what it
is, and, before Pondevez has had the time to unfasten it, he pushes open
the massive door whence this horrible concert proceeds.
In a sordid kennel which the great cleansing has passed over, for, in
fact, it was not intended to be exhibited, on mattresses ranged on the
floor, a dozen little wretches are laid, watched over by an empty chair
on which the beginning of a knitted vest lies with an air of dignity,
and by a little broken saucepan, full of hot wine, boiling on a smoky
wood fire. These are the children with ringworm, with rashes, the
disfavoured of Bethlehem, who had been hidden in this retired corner
with recommendation to their dry-nurse to rock them, to soothe them, to
sit on them, if need were, in order to keep them from crying; but whom
this country-woman, stupid and inquisitive, had left alone there in
order to see the fine carriage standing in the court-yard. Her back
turned, the infants had very quickly grown weary of their horizontal
position; and then all these little scrofulous patients raised their
lusty concert, for they, by a miracle, are strong, their malady saves
and nourishes them. Bewildered and kicking like beetles when they are
turned on their backs, helping themselves with their hips and their
elbows, some fallen on one side and unable to regain their balance,
others raising in the air their little benumbed, swaddled legs,
spontaneously they cease their gesticulations and cries as they see the
door open; but M. de la Perrier’s nodding goatee beard reassures them,
encourages them anew, and in the renewed tumult the explanation given
by the director is only heard with difficulty: “Children kept
separate--Contagion--Skin-diseases.” This is quite enough for Monsieur
the Departmental Secretary; less heroic than Bonaparte on his visit to
the plague-stricken of Jaffa, he hastens towards the door, and in his
timid anxiety, wishing to say something and yet not finding words,
murmurs with an ineffable smile: “They are char-ar-ming.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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