"When did this change take place? Suddenly?"
My mother tried to tell what she had told me, but she burst into sobs before she could finish. The doctor decided to try something; he tried to shock the torpor into which the infant was plunged; he tried to make him cry, to provoke vomiting, to stimulate a movement of energetic breathing. My mother stood by watching him, and tears streamed from her wide-open eyes.
"Has Juliana been told?" asked my brother.
"No, I believe not.... she suspects, perhaps.... Perhaps Cristina.... Stay here, I will run and see, and come back."
I looked at the child as he lay in the doctor's hands; I looked at my mother. I left the room, and ran to Juliana's room. At the door I stopped. "What shall I tell her? Shall I tell her the truth?" I entered; I saw that Cristina was still in the embrasure of the window; I entered the alcove, the curtains of which were now drawn. Juliana was huddled up under the covers. As I approached her, I noticed that she was shaking as if with fever.
"Juliana, it is I."
She turned round and asked in a low voice:
"Were you there?"
"Yes."
"Tell me all."