"Why! what is it? what is it?" he muttered, turning towards the shaking
walls.
The door suddenly opened and Valentine reappeared, distracted, red with
fear and anger, and carrying her little Andree, who wailed and struggled
in her arms.
"There, there, my pet," gasped the mother, "don't cry, she shan't hurt
you any more. There, it's nothing, darling; be quiet, do."
Then she deposited the little girl in a large armchair, where she at once
became quiet again. She was a very pretty child, but still so puny,
although nearly four months old, that there seemed to be nothing but her
beautiful big eyes in her pale little face.
"Well, what is the matter?" asked Seguin, in astonishment.
"The matter, is, my friend, that I have just found Marie lying across the
cradle as drunk as a market porter, and half stifling the child. If I had
been a few moments later it would have been all over. Drunk at ten
o'clock in the morning! Can one understand such a thing? I had noticed
that she drank, and so I hid the liqueurs, for I hoped to be able to keep
her, since her milk is so good. But do you know what she had drunk? Why,
the methylated spirits for the warmer! The empty bottle had remained
beside her.
Pages:
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291