MUSOTTE
And my little darling—my child?
MME. FLACHE
He is sleeping like an angel.
MUSOTTE [after looking at herself in a hand-mirror]
I must not look like this when he comes. Oh, God! Bring my child—I want to see him.
MME. FLACHE
But if I show him to you he will wake up, and who knows if he will go to sleep again.
MUSOTTE
Bring the cradle here. [A gesture of refusal from Mme Flache.] Yes, yes! I insist, [Mme. Flache and the nurse gently bring the cradle to her.] Nearer, nearer, so that I can see him well—the darling! My child, my child! And I am going to leave him! Soon I shall disappear into the unknown. Oh. God, what agony!