"Well, then," said Jeanne, smiling sadly, "since we are neighbours in bed, we should be friends like our two benefactresses."
"With all my heart! My name is Annette Gerbier, called La Lorraine, a washerwoman."
"And I am Jeanne Duport, a fringe-maker. Oh, it is so fortunate to find in this melancholy place some one not quite a stranger to you, especially when you come for the first time, and are very full of trouble. But don't let us talk of that! Tell me, Lorraine, what was the name of the young girl who was so kind to you?"
"She was called Goualeuse, and was exceedingly handsome, with light brown hair and blue eyes, so soft—oh, so soft! Unfortunately, in spite of her assistance, my poor babe died at two months old. It was so puny, it could hardly breathe!" and La Lorraine wiped a tear from her eye.
"And your husband?"
"I am not married. I washed by the day at a rich tradesman's in my country, and had always been prudent; but the master's son whispered his tales in my ear, and then—When I found in what a state I was, I dared not remain any longer in the country, and M. Jules gave me fifty francs to take me to Paris, assuring me that he would send me twenty francs every month for my lying-in; but since I left I have not had one sou, not even a message. I wrote to him once, but he sent me no answer; and I was afraid to write again, as I saw he did not wish to hear any more of me."
"At least he ought not to have forgotten you, if it was only for the sake of the child!"
"That was the reason; he was angry with me for being in the family way, because it embarrassed him. I regret my child for myself, but not on its own account, poor little darling! It must have been miserable, and have been an orphan very early, for I have not long to live."
"Oh, you ought not to have such ideas at your age. Have you been long ill?"
"Nearly three months. Why, when I had to work for myself and my child, I began too soon. The winter was very cold; I was attacked with a cold on my chest. I lost my child at this time, too; and nursing her, I neglected myself, and then my sorrow; so that I fell into a consumption—decided—like the actress who has just died."