of the child and all
the expense it had been to her. In proportion as she recalled all she
had done, her words seemed to convince her more than ever of her rights
and to increase her anger. The poor mother, who no doubt feared that her
violence would frighten the child, returned into the back shop and put
it into its cradle.

Whether it is that the countrywoman saw in this act a determination to
escape her claims, or that she was blinded by passion, I cannot say;
but she rushed into the next room, where I heard the sounds of
quarreling, with which the cries of the child were soon mingled. The
joiner, who was still rummaging in the till, was startled and raised his
head.

At the same moment Genevieve appeared at the door, holding in her arms
the baby that the countrywoman was trying to tear from her. She ran
toward the counter, and throwing herself behind her husband cried:

"Michael, defend your son!"

The drunken man quickly stood up erect, like one who awakes with a
start.

"My son!" stammered he; "what son?"

His looks fell upon the child; a vague ray of intelligence passed over
his features.

"Robert," resumed he; "it is Robert!"

He tried to steady himself on his feet, that he might take the baby, but
he tottered. The nurse approached him in a rage.

"My money, or I shall take the child away!" cried she. "It is I who have
fed and brought it up: if you don't pay me for what has made it live, it
ought to be the same to you as if it were dead. I shall not go until I
have my due or the baby."

"And what would you do with him?" murmured Genevieve, pressing Robert
against her bosom.

"Take it to the Foundling!" replied the countrywoman harshly; "the
hospital is a better mother than you are, for it pays for the food of
its little ones."

At the word "Foundling," Genevieve had exclaimed aloud in horror. With
her arms wound round her son, whose head she hid in her bosom, and her
two hands spread over him, she had retreated to the wall, and remained
with her back against it, like a lioness defending her young ones. The
neighbor and I contemplated this scene, without knowing how we could
interfere. As for Michael, he looked at us by turns, making a visible
effort to comprehend it all. When his eye rested upon Genevieve and the
child, it lit up with a gleam of pleasure; but when he turned toward us,
he again became stupid and hesitating.

At last, apparently making a prodigious effort, he cried out, "Wait!"