Her son was only fifteen months old and slept in a room opening out of hers, so that she might be able to watch over him all the time.
The Captain exclaimed ardently:
"What does it matter, Mathilde? How I love you; you must come to me, Mathilde."
But she struggled and resisted in her fright.
"No! no! Just listen how he is crying; he will wake up the nurse, and what should we do if she were to come? We should be lost. Just listen to me, Étienne. When he screams at night his father always takes him into our bed, and he is quiet immediately; it is the only means of keeping him still. Do let me take him."
The child roared, uttering shrill screams, which pierced the thickest walls and could be heard by passers-by in the streets.
In his consternation the Captain got up, and Mathilde jumped out and took the child into her bed, when he was quiet at once.
Étienne sat astride on a chair, and rolled a cigarette, and in about five minutes André went to sleep again.
"I will take him back," his mother said; and she took him back very carefully to his cradle.
When she returned, the Captain was waiting for her with open arms, and put his arms round her in a transport of love, while she, embracing him more closely, said, stammering: