Then Mathieu distinctly saw her press Santerre’s hand as if in acceptance of his consolation.  It was the logical, fatal outcome of the situation—­given a wife whom her husband had perverted, a mother who refused to nurse her babe.  And yet a cry from Andree suddenly set Valentine erect, awaking to the reality of her position.  If that poor creature were so puny, dying for lack of her mother’s milk, the mother also was in danger from her refusal to nurse her and clasp her to her breast like a buckler of invincible defence.  Life and salvation one through the other, or disaster for both, such was the law.  And doubtless Valentine became clearly conscious of her peril, for she hastened to take up the child and cover her with caresses, as if to make of her a protecting rampart against the supreme madness to which she had felt prompted.  And great was the distress that came over her.  Her other children were there, looking and listening, and Mathieu also was still waiting.  When she perceived him her tears gushed forth again, and she strove to explain things, and even attempted to defend her husband.

“Excuse him, there are moments when he quite loses his head. Mon Dieu!  What will become of me with this child?  Yet I can’t nurse her now, it is too late.  It is frightful to be in such a position without knowing what to do.  Ah! what will become of me, good Lord?”

Santerre again attempted to console her, but she no longer listened to him, and he was about to defer all further efforts till another time when unexpected intervention helped on his designs.

Celeste, who had entered noiselessly, stood there waiting for her mistress to allow her to speak.  “It is my friend who has come to see me, madame,” said she; “you know, the person from my village, Sophie Couteau, and as she happens to have a nurse with her—­”

“There is a nurse here?”

“Oh! yes, madame, a very fine one, an excellent one.”

Then, on perceiving her mistress’s radiant surprise, her joy at this relief, she showed herself zealous:  “Madame must not tire herself by holding the little one.  Madame hasn’t the habit.  If madame will allow me, I will bring the nurse to her.”

Heaving a sigh of happy deliverance, Valentine had allowed the servant to take the child from her.  So Heaven had not abandoned her!  However, she began to discuss the matter, and was not inclined to have the nurse brought there.  She somehow feared that if the other one, who was drunk in her room, should come out and meet the new arrival, she would set about beating them all and breaking everything.  At last she insisted on taking Santerre and Mathieu into the linen-room, saying that the latter must certainly have some knowledge of these matters, although he declared the contrary.  Only Gaston and Lucie were formally forbidden to follow.

“You are not wanted,” said their mother, “so stay here and play.  But we others will all go, and as softly as possible, please, so that that drunken creature may not suspect anything.”