where one can neither see nor breathe.
The baby would not live a week in such a place. And, besides, Madame
Menoux would not have time to attend to the child. She has never had a
servant, and what with waiting on customers and having to cook meals in
time for her husband's return from the museum, she never has a moment
to spare. Oh! if she could, she would be very happy to keep the little
fellow with her."
"It is true," said Marianne sadly; "there are some poor mothers whom I
pity with all my heart. This person you speak of is not in poverty, and
yet is reduced to this cruel separation. For my part, I should not be
able to exist if a child of mine were taken away from me to some unknown
spot and given to another woman."
La Couteau doubtless interpreted this as an attack upon herself.
Assuming the kindly demeanor of one who dotes on children, the air which
she always put on to prevail over hesitating mothers, she replied:
"Oh, Rougemont is such a very pretty place. And then it's not far from
Bayeux, so that folks are by no means savages there. The air is so pure,
too, that people come there to recruit their health. And, besides, the
little ones who are confided to us are well cared for, I assure you.
One would have to be heartless to do otherwise than love such little
angels."
However, like Celeste, she relapsed into silence on seeing how
significantly Mathieu was looking at her. Perhaps, in spite of her
rustic ways, she understood that there was a false ring in her voice.
Besides, of what use was her usual patter about the salubrity of the
region, since that lady, Madame Seguin, wished to have a nurse at her
house? So she resumed: "Then it's understood, madame, I will bring you
the best we have, a real treasure."
Valentine, now a little tranquillized as to her fears for herself, found
strength to speak out. "No, no, I won't pledge myself in advance. I
will send to see the nurses you bring to the office, and we shall see if
there is one to suit me."
Then, without occupying herself further about the woman, she turned to
Marianne, and asked: "Shall you nurse your baby yourself?"
"Certainly, as I did with the others. We have very decided opinions on
that point, my husband and I."
"No doubt. I understand you: I should much like to do the same myself;
but it is impossible."
La Couteau had remained there motionless, vexed at having come on a
fruitless errand, and regretting the loss of the present which she
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