Lightly as Beauchêne spoke, his eyes even then wavered, and his face remained for a moment clouded. Perhaps, in his turn, he also had felt the passing of that icy breath from the unknown which one evening had made Constance shudder with dread whilst she clasped her swooning boy in her arms.
But at that moment Mathieu, who had left Marianne's room to answer Beauchêne's inquiries, was summoned back again. And there he now found the sunlight streaming brilliantly, like a glorious greeting to new life. While he yet stood there, dazzled by the glow, the doctor said to him: "It is a boy."
Then Mathieu leant over his wife and kissed her lovingly. Her beautiful eyes were still moist with the tears of anguish, but she was already smiling with happiness.
"Dear, dear wife," said Mathieu, "how good and brave you are, and how I love you!"
"Yes, yes, I am very happy," she faltered, "and I must try to give you back all the love that you give me."
Ah! that room of battle and victory, it seemed radiant with triumphant glory. Elsewhere was death, darkness, shame, and crime, but here holy suffering had led to joy and pride, hope and trustfulness in the coming future. One single being born, a poor bare wee creature, raising the faint cry of a chilly fledgeling, and life's immense treasure was increased and eternity insured. Mathieu remembered one warm balmy spring night when, yonder at Chantebled, all the perfumes of fruitful nature had streamed into their room in the little hunting-box, and now around him amid equal rapture he beheld the ardent sunlight flaring, chanting the poem of eternal life that sprang from love the eternal.
[VII]
"I TELL you that I don't need Zoé to give the child a bath," exclaimed Mathieu half in anger. "Stay in bed, and rest yourself!"
"But the servant must get the bath ready," replied Marianne, "and bring you some warm water."
She laughed as if amused by the dispute, and he ended by laughing also.