“No, Master Francis. But she has a baby. A little darling, very lively; plays all day long. I wouldn’t look at the little angel at first, on account of the disgrace, you understand. But when I saw it it gave one little laugh and made my heart leap. Now it’s all the pleasure I have left.”
“Is it a girl?”
“A girl? You’d say it was a boy, sure enough, a big boy, very plump.”
“It’s quite an expense for you.”
“For sure. But when I come home and see this urchin with his bottle it makes me feel as good as a glass of your wine. It makes life feel warm and pleasant again.”
“You’re pretty old to work now,” said Mr. Roquevillard.
“Exactly. I’m no good for anything else any more.”
Even from her wretchedness she could draw comfort, and misfortune brought her a supreme interest for her last days. His mind was distracted from his own trouble by her story, and he marvelled at the courage of the poor woman, who, without knowing it, set him an example of bravery and forgiveness. She stooped down to lift her bundle again to her shoulders.
“Good-bye, Master Francis.”
“Where are you going?”