That little line, which ever ascended, told
her that her child was saved, and that all the weight and strength he
acquired was derived from her--from her milk, her blood, her flesh. She
was completing the appointed work; and motherliness, at last awakened
within her, was blossoming in a florescence of love.
"If you want to kill him," continued Mathieu, "you need only take him
from your breast. See how eagerly the poor little fellow is nursing!"
This was indeed true. And Norine burst into big sobs: "_Mon Dieu_! you
are beginning to torture me again. Do you think that I shall take any
pleasure in getting rid of him now? You force me to say things which make
me weep at night when I think of them. I shall feel as if my very vitals
were being torn out when this child is taken from me! There, are you both
pleased that you have made me say it? But what good does it do to put me
in such a state, since nobody can remedy things, and he must needs go to
the foundlings, while I return to the gutter, to wait for the broom
that's to sweep me away?"
But Cecile, who likewise was weeping, kissed and kissed the child, and
again reverted to her dream, explaining how happy they would be, all
three of them, in a nice room, which she pictured full of endless joys,
like some Paradise.
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