"'"I see that this child will be in good hands with you, and I place him in your care. How much do you want a month?"

"'I made bold to ask for thirty francs; I didn't expect to get it, but the lady agreed right off; she took a purse from under a cushion and took out a hundred and fifty francs in gold, and gave it to me.

"'"Here," she says, "here's five months in advance, and a supply of clothes which you are to take away with the child and the cradle. You will go back at once; the cab that brought you here is waiting below, and will take you to the stage office. I want you to leave Paris at once, because the air is bad here, and my child's health will suffer if he's kept here any longer."

"'I asked nothing better than to go right home, so I says:

"'"Yes, madame, I'll take the child and go; but first tell me the little one's name."

"'"Emile."

"'"And madame's name?--for I must know that, so that I can let her know how her son gets along."

"'The lady frowned, then replied:

"'"I am the Baronne de Mortagne. Here is my address on this paper; take it."

"'I took the paper and put it away carefully in my pocket; then I says:

"'"Now, if madame la baronne wants to write down my address, I'll give it to her."

"'The lady took a little book from a table--there was white paper and a pencil in it--and wrote down my name and address in full: Jacqueline Treillard, wife of Pierre Treillard, day laborer, Morfontaine. Then they gave me a good gla.s.s of wine and a cake, and when I had eaten, the person who had brought me there took the bundle of clothes and says:

"'"Now take the cradle with the child in it, and let's be off; I'll go to the stage office with you."

"'Before I took the child away, I lifted him in my arms and offered him to his mother, because I supposed she'd want to kiss him, and that she'd cry when it came to parting with him; but the beautiful lady didn't seem to feel it much; she just barely put her lips to the child's forehead, then handed him right back to me, saying:

"'"Take him away, and above all things don't amuse yourself by bringing him to Paris to show him to me; I don't like to have children carried round the country. I shall come to see you when I am able; here's twenty francs more for your journey."

"'"Faith!" thinks I to myself, "if this lady isn't very fond of children, I can't deny that she's mighty generous."

"'I got into the cab again with the lady who carried the bundle; we got safely to the stage office; I engaged a seat for four o'clock; and my companion was kind enough to keep me company; she didn't leave me till she saw me on board the stage that took me back to Morfontaine.

"'Well, when I got home, you can imagine my man Pierre's surprise to see me back so soon. When he learned what had happened, he was as pleased as I was. Bless me! a hundred and fifty francs in advance, and twenty francs for the journey that cost just seven francs ten sous! That was a windfall! I looked at the address they'd given me; but as I don't know how to read very well, I couldn't make it out, it was written so small.

Pierre could read even less than I could; so I showed it to the schoolmaster. It said:

"'"Madame la Baronne de Mortagne, at her hotel, Rue de Grenelle, Faubourg Saint-Germain."

"'"The deuce!" I says to myself; "it seems that I've been in Faubourg Saint-Germain!"

"'Well, there was the child in our family, and he grew like a mushroom.

Two months pa.s.sed by, and I didn't hear anything from his mother.

"'"She doesn't have time to come," I says to myself; "I must let her know how her boy's coming on."

"'I had monsieur the schoolmaster write a letter, and I put it in the post, but I didn't get a word in reply. My man and I agreed that the lady knew her child was well, and that was enough for her; apparently she didn't have time to come to see him.

"'Two months more pa.s.sed, and I sent another letter--no answer any more than to the first. Then I says to myself: "There's a mother that don't show much affection for her son! but when the five months are almost gone, she'll have to let us hear from her when she sends me my money.

Perhaps she'll come and bring it with her; yes, that's probably what she's waiting for."

"'But the fifth month pa.s.sed and no one came, and she didn't send any money. I had a third letter written, in which I asked for money. I didn't get any answer any more than to the other two, and it began to look queer to us. But about that time I lost my poor husband, and then, a month after, I lost my son! All the misfortunes fell on me at once, and I forgot all about little Emile's mother.

"'At last, when my grief began to get calmed down a little, I says to myself: "That lady must be sick, that I don't hear from her. I think I'll go to her house in Paris with her son; it's eight months now that I've had him; she owes me for three months and I need the money; besides she'll see that her son's in good health."

"'I got the schoolmaster to read me the address again; then I put it in my pocket and started. When I got to Paris, I inquired the way to Rue de Grenelle, Faubourg Saint-Germain; someone showed me the way and I found the street. It was a fine, broad street, not at all like the one I went to before, when they took me to my foster-child's mother. But I remembered being told that we went in at the rear of the house, and I says to myself: "This must be the front this time, for sure."

"'I asked for the Baronne de Mortagne's house, and the answer I got was: "I don't know her." I went farther along; the same answer. I kept on and on--and it's a terrible long street--but no one knew the Baronne de Mortagne; and I had gone the whole length of the street, asking on both sides. Then I asked for the street that ran at the rear of the houses, thinking that I might perhaps find my way better there; but they laughed in my face and told me that the houses didn't have any rear.

"'Well! I understood then, my dear sister, that I had been taken in by a bad mother who just wanted to get rid of her baby, and to fix things so that she'd never hear of him again. I might have gone and told my story to the magistrate, who'd have ordered the child taken to La Pitie; but I didn't want to, I was attached to little Emile, and, poor as I was I kept him. Besides, I thought that perhaps his mother would regret it some day and come to look for her son. But it's nearly four years now that I've had the child, and in all that time I've never heard a word from the so-called baroness, who had such big black eyes. As for the boy, here he is; he's got a pretty face and eyes almost as black as his mother's; but when you come to his disposition, well! I can't say he's a very good boy; he's wilful and obstinate, and a little liar, and it's his great delight to torment other children. But he's so young! with time, that will take care of itself.'

"That, mesdames, is the story that Jacqueline told her sister, the widow Tourniquoi; I have tried to tell it to you just as she told it. You know now why little Emile is called hereabout the lost child, for of course the worthy nurse had no reason to make a mystery of the affair; and it was not long before everybody knew that the little fellow she brought with her had been abandoned by his mother, and that no one knew who his parents were."

"Thanks a thousand times for your good-nature, monsieur le docteur. And this Jacqueline, the excellent woman who took care of the child, is she still living?"

"Yes, she isn't very old; she still lives with her sister, the widow Tourniquoi. As for the little boy, who is nearly eight years old, I suppose, he shows himself far from worthy of what she has done for him; he is quite the worst little rapscallion in the neighborhood. His pleasure consists in doing mischief: if windows are broken, fruit stolen, branches broken from trees, animals hurt by stones thrown at them, you may be certain beforehand that little Emile is the one who has done it. So that he is not loved hereabout, except by poor Jacqueline, who always tries to excuse her foster-son's misdeeds by saying that time will take care of it. And time is taking care of it, but not as she means to be understood: it is growing worse instead of better."

Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:

Deja dans la coupe profonde= Deja dans la coupe profonde {pg 45}

As I told you, madames= As I told you, mesdames {pg 161}

FOOTNOTES:

[A] The _Debardeurs_ formerly const.i.tuted one of the Parisian trade guilds. Their occupation was the handling and discharging of the lumber rafts that were floated down to Paris. Their dress was a distinctive one, persistently adhered to, and became a favorite one with masqueraders.

[B] The name of the conventional simpleton in the old plays given by strolling players at country fairs and markets.

[C] _Faire des poufs_ is said of a person who runs into debt, knowing that he will be unable to pay, then suddenly decamps.

[D] There is a play on words here, _legere_ meaning inconstant and frail--wanton--, as well as light of foot.

[E] _Rat_ and _c.r.a.paud_--rat and toad--as used here, signify a skinflint and an ugly little creature.

[F] Chamoureau says: _j'ai des menagements a garder._ The shepherdess understands him to say _demenagements_; _demenager_ means to move, to change one's residence.

[G] Mon pet.i.t doigt me l'avait dit--a phrase equivalent to the English "a little bird told me."

[H] The professor said, a few paragraphs earlier, _ignorance cra.s.se_--dense ignorance!--the countryman understood him to say _cra.s.seux_--dirty!

[I] The point of the dialogue is lost in English. Chamoureau in resenting the maid's naming him camel,--Chameau,--lays himself open to her retort that implies he may have been cuckolded, i.e., "have worn the horns"; the allusion to the humps bearing this signification here.

[J] In French, _detail_ means _retail_ as well as _detail_.