d ices,
for I suppose you have invited many guests to the baptism of our infant.
He is to furnish us with some of those chocolate confections, with the
name of our son, George Stanislaus, upon them.

THE MAN. Thank you.

WIFE. God be thanked that the ceremony is so soon to be completed, and
that our little George will be made an entire Christian; for although he
has been already baptized with water, it always seems to me as if he
were wanting something.

She goes to the cradle.

Sleep, darling, sleep! Art thou dreaming, that thou thus tossest about
thy white arms, and sufferest no covering to remain around thee? So
now--that will keep thee warm--lie so! How very restless my baby is
to-day! What can be the matter with him? My darling! my beautiful!
sleep! sleep!

THE MAN (_aside_). How hot and sultry it grows! A storm is rising; will
not the lightning flash from heaven, and strike me to the heart!

WIFE. Neither yesterday, nor to-day, nor for the last week--O God! it is
now almost a whole month since you have, of your own accord, addressed a
single word to me--and every one says I am growing so pale and thin!

THE MAN (_aside_). The hour is here--nothing can delay it longer.

(To his wife.)

Indeed, on the contrary, I think you are looking remarkably well.

WIFE. Alas! it is a matter of perfect indifference to you; you never
even see me! When I come near you, Henry, you turn your head away; and
if I sit down beside you, you cover your face with your hands.

I went to confession yesterday, and carefully thought overall my faults
and follies--but I could not remember in what way I had so grievously
offended you.

THE MAN. You have not offended me.

WIFE. O God! My God!

THE MAN. I feel it is my duty to love you.

WIFE. You kill me with the words _my duty_! Rather say at once, _I do
not love you_--then I would at least know all--the worst!

She runs to the cradle, and holds up the child.

Forsake him not--your son! Let all your anger fall on me alone--love my
child! my child! Henry!

She kneels before him with the infant in her arms.

THE MAN (_raising her gently from the ground_). Think not of what I have
said. Gloomy moments sometimes come upon me, confusion--faintness--

WIFE. But one word more, I implore! one promise, Henry! that you will
never cease to love him!

THE MAN. Neither him, nor you--both shall be dear to me--believe me,
Mary!

He kisses her brow, she embr