"I knew no more than yourself, father. You knew, as I and everybody did, that this child was expected, and that the governor respited the mother for its sake; but I didn't know it had arrived until you spoke of it," said the youth.
"Ah! you are more quick-witted than I," laughed the man sarcastically.
"Let me take care of the babe, father," pleaded the boy.
"Why?"
"Because it must be rescued with her."
"Why, again?"
"Because she would break her heart without it."
"How do you know?"
"Oh, father, even a bird loves its birdling; and of course this tender-hearted lady loves her little one."
"She don't seem to love anything now, or even to know anything. She is as stupid and lifeless as anything I ever saw that lived and breathed. She is under the influence of opium, I should think," said the man, who had now the form of the unconscious woman well wound around with the quilt and laid over his breast and shoulder.