I could but commend the
comtesse to the Great God and hasten out of her sight. Five wretched and
wearisome days were spent. The character of the comtesse meantime
displayed itself. Instead of sinking under the weight of this sorrowful
event, she summoned resolution to endure it. She was devoted to her
child; she assumed a cheerful air when caressing it; she even tried to
busy herself in her ordinary occupations; but I could not be deceived, I
knew the iron had entered her soul. All these heroic signs were only
evidences of what she really suffered. Did I not watch her closely? and
when the comtesse, folding her infant to her breast, raised her eyes to
heaven as if in gratitude that it was left to her, I fancied there was
an expression which seemed to say, "Why were not _all_ taken?" The
little one, unconscious of its loss, would talk in intervals about
"papa;" and when the mother, pained by the innocent prattle, grew sad
of countenance, the child would creep into her lap, and putting its
slender fingers upon her eyes, her lips, and over her face, would say,
"Am I not good, mamma? I am not naughty; I am good, mamma."

"'Five days were passed in this way; on the morning of the sixth, we
were startled by the comtesse, who, in manifest terror came to us
holding her child, which was screaming as if suffering acute pain: its
eyes were bloodshot and gleamed with an unnatural brilliancy, its pulse
rapid, and head so hot that it almost burned me to feel of it. Presently
it became quiet for a few minutes, but soon the screams were renewed.
Alas! what could we do? Agathe and I tried every thing that occurred to
us, but to no purpose: the pains in the head became so intense that the
poor thing would shriek as if some one was piercing her with a knife,
then she would lay in a lethargy, and again start and scream until
exhausted. Not for a moment did the comtesse allow her darling to be out
of her arms. For two days and two nights she neither took rest nor food;
absorbed wholly in her child's sufferings, she would not for a moment be
diverted from them. Agathe too watched night and day. On the third night
the child appeared much easier, and the comtesse bade Agathe go and get
some rest. She came and laid down for a little time and at last fell
asleep; when she awoke it was daylight; she knocked at the door of the
comtesse--all was still;--she opened it and went in. The comtesse,
exhausted by long watching, had fallen asleep in her cha