ve me in peace. For the last fortnight you have been
torturing me with that child, by keeping him near me, with the idea
that I should end by nursing him. You bring him to me, and set him on my
knees, so that I may look at him and kiss him. You are always worrying
me with him, and making him cry with the hope that I shall pity him and
take him to my breast. But, _mon Dieu_! can't you understand that if I
turn my head away, if I don't want to kiss him or even to see him, it is
because I'm afraid of being caught and loving him like a big fool,
which would be a great misfortune both for him and for me? He'll be far
happier by himself! So, I beg you, let him be taken away at once, and
don't torture me any more."

Sobbing violently, she again sank back in bed, and buried her
dishevelled head in the pillows.

La Couteau had remained waiting, mute and motionless, at the foot of the
bedstead. In her gown of dark woollen stuff and her black cap trimmed
with yellow ribbons she retained the air of a peasant woman in her
Sunday best. And she strove to impart an expression of compassionate
good-nature to her long, avaricious, false face. Although it seemed to
her unlikely that business would ensue, she risked a repetition of her
customary speech.

"At Rougemont, you know, madame, your little one would be just the same
as at home. There's no better air in the Department; people come there
from Bayeux to recruit their health. And if you only knew how well the
little ones are cared for! It's the only occupation of the district,
to have little Parisians to coddle and love! And, besides, I wouldn't
charge you dear. I've a friend of mine who already has three nurslings,
and, as she naturally brings them up with the bottle, it wouldn't put
her out to take a fourth for almost next to nothing. Come, doesn't that
suit you--doesn't that tempt you?"

When, however, she saw that tears were Norine's only answer, she made
an impatient gesture like an active woman who cannot afford to lose
her time. At each of her fortnightly journeys, as soon as she had rid
herself of her batch of nurses at the different offices, she hastened
round the nurses' establishments to pick up infants, so as to take the
train homewards the same evening together with two or three women who,
as she put it, helped her "to cart the little ones about." On this
occasion she was in a greater hurry, as Madame Bourdieu, who employed
her in a variety of ways, had asked her to t