But Marianne was answering Madame Angelin: "Oh I don't think that at all
likely. Why, I'm becoming an old woman. You forget that I am already a
grandmother. Here, look at that!"
So saying, she waved her hand towards the servant of her daughter-in-law,
Charlotte, who, in accordance with the instructions she had received, was
now bringing the little Berthe in order that her mother might give her
the breast. The servant had remained at the drawing-room door,
hesitating, disliking to intrude on all that mourning; but the child
good-humoredly waved her fat little fists, and laughed lightly. And
Charlotte, hearing her, immediately rose and tripped across the salon to
take the little one into a neighboring room.
"What a pretty child!" murmured Madame Angelin. "Those little ones are
like nosegays; they bring brightness and freshness wherever they come."
Constance for her part had been dazzled. All at once, amid the
semi-obscurity, starred by the flames of the tapers, amid the deathly
atmosphere, which the odor of the roses rendered the more oppressive,
that laughing child had set a semblance of budding springtime, the fresh,
bright atmosphere of a long promise of life.
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