He closed the door, and we went down-stairs to seek the persons in authority. Courvoisier related his business and condition, and asked to see rooms. The woman hesitated when she heard there was a child.
“The child will never trouble you, madame,” said he, quietly, but rather as if the patience of his look were forced.
“No, never!” I added, fervently. “I will answer for that, Frau Schmidt.”
A quick glance, half gratitude, half amusement, shot from his eyes as the woman went on to say that she only took gentlemen lodgers, and could not do with ladies, children, and nurse-maids. They wanted so much attending to, and she did not profess to open her house to them.
“You will not be troubled with either lady or nurse-maid,” said he. “I take charge of the child myself. You will not know that he is in the house.”
“But your wife—” she began.
“There will be no one but myself and my little boy,” he replied, ever politely, but ever, as it seemed, to me, with repressed pain or irritation.
“So!” said the woman, treating him to a long, curious, unsparing look of wonder and inquiry, which made me feel hot all over. He returned the glance quietly and unsmilingly. After a pause she said:
“Well, I suppose I must see about it, but it will be the first child I ever took into the house, in that way, and only as a favor to Herr Helfen.”