“Oui! oui! my lady; but de infant is so fort, so trong, dat it will be difficult for me to trottle her. Death, la mort, does not come ever when required; but I vill do my endeavour to trangle de leetle jade, vit as much activity as I can. Ha! ha! de leetle baggage tinks she is already perdir—she tombles so—be quiet, you petite leetle deevil. It vill be de best vay, I tink, to do it on de ground. Hark! is dere not some person near?—my heart goes en palpitant.”
“It is nobody, thou fool,” answered the lady; “it is only a rustling produced by a breath of wind among the trees.”
“Very vell, very vell, my Lady Maitland; dat is right. Now for de vork.”
“Stop until I am at a little distance; and, when thou hearest me cry ‘Now,’ finish the thing cleverly.”
The rustling of the lady’s gown betokened that she had done as she said. The rustling ceased; and the word “Now,” came from the mouth of the mother.
All was silent for a minute; a quick breath, indicating the application of a strong effort, was now heard, mixed with the sound of a convulsed suspiration, something like that of a child labouring under hooping-cough, though weaker. The rustling of clothes indicated a struggle of some violence; and several ejaculations escaped at intervals:—“Mon dieu! dis is de triste vork; how trong de leetle she velp is!—now, now—not yet—how trange!—diable! she still breats!”
“Hast thou finished, Louise?” asked the lady, impatiently.
“Not yet, my lady,” said Louise; “give me your hair necklace; de leetle she velp vont die vitout tronger force dan my veak hands can apply.”
“I cannot go to thee,” said the lady; “thou must come to me. Lay the babe on the ground, and come for the necklace.”
Louise did as she was desired.