"
"Good-by! Take care of yourself!" cried La Couteau; "you will make me
miss my train. And I've got the return tickets, too; the five others are
waiting for me at the station! Ah! what a fuss they would make if I got
there too late!"
Then, followed by Mathieu, she hurried away, bounding down the stairs,
where she almost fell with her little burden. But soon she threw herself
back in the cab, which rolled off.
"Ah! that's a good job! And what do you say of that young person,
monsieur? She wouldn't lay out fifteen francs a month on her own account,
and yet she reproaches that good Mademoiselle Rosine, who has just given
me four hundred francs to have her little one taken care of till his
first communion. Just look at him--a superb child, isn't he? What a pity
it is that the finest are often those who die the first."
Mathieu looked at the infant on the woman's knees. His garments were very
white, of fine texture, trimmed with lace, as if he were some little
condemned prince being taken in all luxury to execution. And the young
man remembered that Norine had told him that the child was the offspring
of crime. Born amid secrecy, he was now, for a fixed sum, to be handed
over to a woman who would quietly suppress him by simply leaving some
door or window wide open.
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