The nurse and the doctor bent over her and took something away; and she heard the choking noise she had heard once before, and then the low cry of pain, the feeble whine of the new-born child filled her ears and seemed to enter her poor, exhausted body till it reached her very soul; and, in an unconsciousness movement she tried to hold out her arms.
With the child was born a new joy, a fresh rapture. In one second she had been delivered from that terrible pain and made happier than she had ever been before, and she revived in mind and body as she realized, for the first time, the pleasure of being a mother.
She wanted to see her child. It had not any hair or nails, for it had come before its time, but when she saw this human larva move its limbs and open its mouth, and when she touched its wrinkled little face, her heart overflowed with happiness, and she knew that she would never feel weary of life again, for her love for the atom she held in her arms would be so absorbing that it would make her indifferent to everything else.
From that time her child was her chief, her only care, and she idolized it more, perhaps, because she had been so deceived in her love and disappointed in her hopes. She insisted on having the cot close to her bed, and, when she could get up, she sat by the window the whole day rocking the cradle with her foot. She was even jealous of the wet-nurse, and when the hungry baby held out its arms and mouth towards the big blue-veined breast, she felt as if she would like to tear her son from this strong, quiet peasant woman"s arms, and strike and scratch the bosom to which he clung so eagerly.
She embroidered his fine robes herself, putting into them the most elaborate work; he was always surrounded by a cloud of lace and wore the handsomest caps. The only thing she could talk about was the baby"s clothes, and she was always interrupting a conversation to hold up a band, or bib, or some especially pretty ribbon for admiration, for she took no notice of what was being said around her as she turned and twisted some tiny garment about in her hands, and held it up to the light to see better how it looked.
"Don"t you think he will look lovely in that?" she was always asking, and her mother and the baron smiled at this all-absorbing affection; but Julien would exclaim, impatiently, "What a nuisance she is with that brat!" for his habits had been upset and his overweening importance diminished by the arrival of this noisy, imperious tyrant, and he was half-jealous of the sc.r.a.p of humanity who now held the first place in the house. Jeanne could hardly bear to be away from her baby for an instant, and she even sat watching him all night through as he lay sleeping in his cradle. These vigils and this continual anxiety began to tell upon her health. The want of sleep weakened her and she grew thinner and thinner, until, at last, the doctor ordered the child to be separated from her.
It was in vain that she employed tears, commands and entreaties. Each night the baby slept with his nurse, and each night his mother rose from her bed and went, barefooted, to put her ear to the keyhole and listen if he was sleeping quietly. Julien found her there one night as he was coming in late from dining at the Fourvilles, and after that she was locked into her room every evening to compel her to stay in bed.
The child was to be named Pierre Simon Paul (they were going to call him Paul) and at the end of August he was christened, the baron being G.o.dfather, and Aunt Lison G.o.dmother. At the beginning of September Aunt Lison went away, and her absence was as unnoticed as her presence had been.
One evening, after dinner, the cure called at the chateau. There seemed an air of mystery about him, and, after a few commonplace remarks, he asked the baron and baroness if he could speak to them in private for a few moments. They all three walked slowly down the avenue talking eagerly as they went, while Julien, feeling uneasy and irritated at this secrecy, was left behind with Jeanne. He offered to accompany the priest when he went away, and they walked off towards the church where the angelus was ringing. It was a cool, almost cold, evening, and the others soon went into the house. They were all beginning to feel a little drowsy when the drawing-room door was suddenly thrown open and Julien came in looking very vexed. Without stopping to see whether Jeanne was there or not, he cried to the baron, as soon as he entered the room:
"Upon my soul you must be mad to go and give twenty thousand francs to that girl!"
They were all taken too much by surprise to make any answer, and he went on, too angry to speak distinctly: "I can"t understand how you can be such fools! But there I suppose you will keep on till we haven"t a sou left!"
The baron, recovering himself, a little, tried to check his son-in-law:
"Be quiet!" he exclaimed. "Don"t you see that your wife is in the room?"
"I don"t care if she is," answered Julien, stamping his foot. "Besides, she ought to know about it. It is depriving her of her rightful inheritance."
Jeanne had listened to her husband in amazement, utterly at a loss to know what it was all about:
"Whatever is the matter?" she asked.
Then Julien turned to her, expecting her to side with him, as the loss of the money would affect her also. He told her in a few words how her parents were trying to arrange a marriage for Rosalie, and how the maid"s child was to have the farm at Barville, which was worth twenty thousand francs at the very least. And he kept on repeating:
"Your parents must be mad, my dear, raving mad! Twenty thousand francs!
Twenty thousand francs! They can"t be in their right senses! Twenty thousand francs for a b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"
Jeanne listened to him quite calmly, astonished herself to find that she felt neither anger nor sorrow at his meanness, but she was perfectly indifferent now to everything which did not concern her child. The baron was choking with anger, and at last he burst out, with a stamp of the foot:
"Really, this is too much! Whose fault is it that this girl has to have a dowry? You seem to forget who is her child"s father; but, no doubt, you would abandon her altogether if you had your way!"
Julien gazed at the baron for a few moments in silent surprise. Then he went on more quietly:
"But fifteen hundred francs would have been ample to give her. All the peasant-girls about here have children before they marry, so what does it matter who they have them by? And then, setting aside the injustice you will be doing Jeanne and me, you forget that if you give Rosalie a farm worth twenty thousand francs everybody will see at once that there must be a reason for such a gift. You should think a little of what is due to our name and position."
He spoke in a calm, cool way as if he were sure of his logic and the strength of his argument. The baron, disconcerted by this fresh view of the matter, could find nothing to say in reply, and Julien, feeling his advantage, added:
"But fortunately, nothing is settled. I know the man who is going to marry her and he is an honest fellow with whom everything can yet be satisfactorily arranged. I will see to the matter myself."
With that he went out of the room, wishing to avoid any further discussion, and taking the silence with which his words were received to mean acquiescence.
As soon as the door had closed after his son-in-law, the baron exclaimed:
"Oh, this is more than I can stand!"
Jeanne, catching sight of her father"s horrified expression, burst into a clear laugh which rang out as it used to do whenever she had seen something very funny:
"Papa, papa!" she cried. "Did you hear the tone in which he said "twenty thousand francs!""
The baroness, whose smiles lay as near the surface as her tears, quivered with laughter as she saw Jeanne"s gayety, and thought of her son-in-law"s furious face, and his indignant exclamations and determined attempt to prevent this money, which was not his, being given to the girl he had seduced. Finally the baron caught the contagion and they all three laughed till they ached as in the happy days of old. When they were a little calmer, Jeanne said:
"It is very funny, but really I don"t seem to mind in the least what he says or does now. I look upon him quite as a stranger, and I can hardly believe I am his wife. You see I am able to laugh at his--his want of delicacy."
And the parents and child involuntarily kissed each other, with smiles on their lips, though the tears were not very far from their eyes.
Two days after this scene, when Julien had gone out for a ride, a tall, young fellow of about four or five-and-twenty, dressed in a brand-new blue blouse, which hung in stiff folds, climbed stealthily over the fence, as if he had been hiding there all the morning, crept along the Couillards" ditch, and went round to the other side of the chateau where Jeanne and her father and mother were sitting under the plane-tree. He took off his cap and awkwardly bowed as he came towards them, and, when he was within speaking distance, mumbled:
"Your servant, monsieur le baron, madame and company." Then, as no one said anything to him he introduced himself as "Desire Lecoq."
This name failing to explain his presence at the chateau, the baron asked:
"What do you want?"
The peasant was very disconcerted when he found he had to state his business. He hesitated, stammered, cast his eyes from the cap he held in his hands to the chateau roof and back again, and at last began:
"M"sieu l"cure has said somethin" to me about this business--" then, fearing to say too much and thus injure his own interests, he stopped short.
"What business?" asked the baron. "I don"t know what you mean."
"About your maid--what"s her name--Rosalie," said the man in a low voice.
Jeanne, guessing what he had come about, got up and went away with her child in her arms.
"Sit down," said the baron, pointing to the chair his daughter had just left.
The peasant took the seat with a "Thank you, kindly," and then waited as if he had nothing whatever to say. After a few moments, during which no one spoke, he thought he had better say something, so he looked up to the blue sky and remarked:
"What fine weather for this time of year to be sure. It"ll help on the crops finely." And then he again relapsed into silence.
The baron began to get impatient.
"Then you are going to marry Rosalie?" he said in a dry tone, going straight to the point.
At that all the crafty suspicious nature of the Normandy peasant was on the alert.
"That depends," he answered quickly. "Perhaps I am and perhaps I ain"t, that depends."
All this beating about the bush irritated the baron.