Meanwhile Jacquinot, the foster-father, had become more of a sot than ever; and as she grew older, Nicole, being obliged to scold her husband incessantly, was rarely in good humor. And then her two boys had left the village: one was a mason at Orléans, the other was apprenticed to a carpenter at Livry.
In spite of that, Chérubin still enjoyed life at his nurse’s house, where he had for his companion a little girl who was only two years younger than he. It was a few days before the Marquis de Grandvilain’s death, that one morning, a very young lady from the city, fashionably dressed, alighted from a cab in front of Nicole’s cottage. This young lady, who was beautiful and bore a look of distinction, was very pale and seemed much excited; she had in her arms a little girl of about a year old, and she said to Jacquinot’s wife, in a voice broken by sobs:
“This is my daughter; she is only a year old, but she has been weaned for some months; I wish to leave her with some kindhearted people who will take great care of her and treat her as their own child. Will you take charge of her, madame? I cannot keep her with me any longer; indeed, it is possible that I may not be able to take her for a long while. There are three hundred francs in this roll; that is all that I can raise at present; but within a year I will send you the same amount, if I do not come before that to see my child.”
Nicole, who had profited much by bringing up one child, thought that a second fortune had fallen into her lap, and eagerly accepted the proposition which was made to her. The young lady handed her the little girl, the money, and a large bundle containing the child’s clothes; then, after embracing her daughter once more, she hurriedly entered her carriage, which instantly drove away.
Not until then did Nicole reflect that she had not asked the young lady her name, or her child’s name, or her address; but it was too late, for the cab was already a long way off. Nicole soon consoled herself for her forgetfulness, thinking:
“After all, she will come again, she certainly can’t mean to abandon her child. She has given me three hundred francs; that is enough for me to be patient; and then the child is a sweet little thing, and I believe I would have kept her for nothing. What shall I call her? Pardieu! Louise; for this is the feast of Saint-Louis. When her mother comes back, if she don’t like that name, she can tell me the child’s own name. What a fool I was not to ask her! But she seemed in such a hurry, and so excited.—Well, Louise,—that is decided; she will be a playmate for my Chérubin, and in that way the dear child won’t get tired of living with us. Bless my soul! the longer we keep him, the better off we are.”
And the little girl had, in fact, become Chérubin’s inseparable companion; she had grown up with him, she shared all his games, all his pleasures. Chérubin was not happy when Louise was not with him; the little girl’s activity was a foil to the little marquis’s natural mildness of character; and when he began to show signs of becoming a charming young man, Louise gave promise of being a very pretty young girl. But the young lady who had brought to Nicole that child whose mother she claimed to be, had not returned to Gagny; once only, a year after her visit, a messenger from Paris had appeared at Frimousset’s house and had handed them a paper which contained only one hundred and fifty francs, saying:
“This is from the mother of the little girl who was brought here a year ago; she requests you to continue to take care of her child.”
Nicole had questioned the man, had asked him for the name and address of the lady who sent him; but the messenger had replied that he did not know, that she had come to his stand in Paris and had given him the errand to do, paying him in advance, after making sure that he had a badge.
Nicole had not been able to learn anything more, and since then she had received neither money nor information. But Louise was so attractive that the idea of sending her away had not once occurred to her. Besides, Chérubin was devoted to her, the little girl was a new bond which kept him in his nurse’s family; and when by chance Jacquinot made any reflection upon the child whom they were bringing up for nothing, his wife would reply: