how faded was the face of the
pregnant woman.

All of a sudden a frightened expression came into her eyes. She reeled
against the wall, leaned there a second, and then fell over with a
stifled cry.

Anna caught her in her arms, and dragged her along until she reached
the bell and rang and rang. Then she stood still, not daring to budge,
holding in her arms the heavy delicate woman, her own face close to the
face with the rolling eyes. The cries, dull and stifled at first,
burst out now in loud shrieks.

The door opened. People hurried in. Outside the door the servants
were on the watch. I caught sight of the landlady, who succeeded ill
in concealing her comic chagrin.

They laid the woman on the bed. They removed ornaments, unfolded
towels, and gave hurried orders.

The crisis subsided and the woman stopped shrieking. She was so happy
not to be suffering any more that she laughed. A somewhat constrained
reflection of her laugh appeared on the faces bending over her. They
undressed her carefully. She let them handle her like a child. They
fixed the bed. Her legs looked very thin and her set face seemed
reduced to nothing. All you saw was her distended body in the middle
of the bed. Her hair was undone and spread around her face like a
pool. Two feminine hands plaited it quickly.

Her laughter broke and stopped.

"It is beginning again."

A groan, which grew louder, a fresh burst of shrieks. Anna, her only
friend, remained in the room. She looked and listened, filled with
thoughts of motherhood. She was thinking that she, too, held within
her such travail and such cries.

This lasted the whole day. For hours, from morning until evening, I
heard the heart-rending wail rising and falling from that pitiful
double being.

At certain moments I fell back, overcome. I could no longer look or
listen. I renounced seeing so much truth. Then once more, with an
effort, I stood up against the wall and looked into the Room again.

Anna kissed the woman on her forehead, in brave proximity to the
immense cry.

When the cry was articulate, it was: "No, no! I do not want to!"

Serious, sickened faces, almost grown old in a few hours with fatigue,
passed and repassed.

I heard some one say:

"No need to help it along. Nature must be allowed to take her course.
Whatever nature does she does well."

And in surprise my lips repeated this lie, while my eyes were fixed
upon the frail, innocent wom