If the maid’s face showed signs of alarm, no less was the mistress disturbed by doubts and fears.
“Nothing,” replied the servant, still trembling.
The Countess hereupon seized her by the arm, shook it roughly, and exclaimed:
“Tell me!”
Meanwhile the pretty little head of a child of four was peering over the edge of the crib.
“It’s a case,” said the maid, half in tears, “it’s a case of cholera.”
Pale as death, the lady started up, and instinctively looked at her listening son. She jumped out of bed; by a single gesture she imposed silence on the girl, while motioning her to go into the next room. Then she darted to her child’s crib.
The little fellow had begun to cry again, but his mother kissed and petted him, played and laughed with him until he forgot his woes, and stopped weeping. She pulled on her dressing-gown in great haste, and joined the servant, shutting the door behind her.
“Oh, my God, my God!” lamented the girl between her sobs, while the other woman too began to shed tears.
“Hush, for Heaven’s sake! On no account must baby be frightened! What about this case—where is it?”