She did not read further, and she kept him on her lap, where he lay quietly, with his head resting on her shoulder, when she heard some one approaching through the salon. It was Eline.
“Good morning, Eline.”
“Good morning, Betsy. Good morning, Ben.”
“Fancy you going out in this rain!”
“I had a cab. I could not stay at home any longer. The weather made me so melancholy, and I thought I was going mad with ennui. Oh, great heavens!”
She let herself go, as with a cry of despair she fell down on a seat, and removed her little veil.
“Just imagine always being pent up within the four walls of your room, no one to see you, nothing in which you take any interest. Is that not enough to drive you mad? At all events, I cannot bear it any longer, I shall certainly go crazy.”
“Eline, prends garde, l’enfant t’écoute.”
“He—he does not understand that, and probably will never understand it,” she continued in a hoarse voice. “Ben, come here; come here for a moment. Do you know what you must do when you are big? Never think of anything, little man, whatever you do. Don’t think at all. Eat, drink, and enjoy yourself as long as you can, and then—then—you must marry! But you must not think, do you hear?”
“Eline, vraiment tu es folle,” cried Betsy hastily, fearing more for her child than for her sister. [[304]]