“This is my care, madame,” said Raynal, coldly.
There was no mistaking his manner. The stained one was not to touch his wife.
She looked at him in piteous amazement at his ingratitude. “It is well,” said she. “It is just. I deserve this from you.”
She said no more, but drooped gently down beside the cradle, and hid her forehead in the clothes beside the child that had brought all this woe, and sobbed bitterly.
Then honest Raynal began to be sorry for her, in spite of himself. But there was no time for this. Josephine stirred; and, at the same moment, a violent knocking came at the door of the apartment, and the new servant’s voice, crying, “Ladies, for Heaven’s sake, what is the matter? The baroness heard a fall—she is getting up—she will be here. What shall I tell her is the matter?”
Raynal was going to answer, but Rose, who had started up at the knocking, put her hand in a moment right before his mouth, and ran to the door. “There is nothing the matter; tell mamma I am coming down to her directly.” She flew back to Raynal in an excitement little short of frenzy. “Help me carry her into her own room,” cried she imperiously. Raynal obeyed by instinct; for the fiery girl spoke like a general, giving the word of command, with the enemy in front. He carried the true culprit in his arms, and laid her gently on her bed.
“Now put IT out of sight—take this, quick, man! quick!” cried Rose.
Raynal went to the cradle. “Ah! my poor girl,” said he, as he lifted it in his arms, “this is a sorry business; to have to hide your own child from your own mother!”
“Colonel Raynal,” said Rose, “do not insult a poor, despairing girl. C’est lache.”
“I am silent, young woman,” said Raynal, sternly. “What is to be done?”