"
So George went to the door and called his mother. She entered
and greeted the doctor, holding herself erect, and striving to
keep the signs of grief and terror from her face. She signed to
the doctor to take a seat, and then seated herself by a little
table near him.
"Madame Dupont," he began, "I have prescribed a course of
treatment for the child. I hope to be able to improve its
condition, and to prevent any new developments. But my duty and
yours does not stop there; if there is still time, it is
necessary to protect the health of the nurse."
"Tell us what it is necessary to do, Doctor?" said she.
"The woman must stop nursing the child."
"You mean we have to change the nurse?"
"Madame, the child can no longer be brought up at the breast,
either by that nurse or by any other nurse."
"But why, sir?"
"Because the child would give her disease to the woman who gave
her milk."
"But, Doctor, if we put her on the bottle--our little one--she
will die!"
And suddenly George burst out into sobs. "Oh, my poor little
daughter! My God, my God!"
Said the doctor, "If the feeding is well attended to, with
sterilized milk--"
"That can do very well for healthy infants," broke in Madame
Dupont. "But at the age of three months one cannot take from the
breast a baby like ours, frail and ill. More than any other such
an infant has need of a nurse--is that not true?"
"Yes," the doctor admitted, "that is true. But--"
"In that case, between the life of the child, and the health of
the nurse, you understand perfectly well that my choice is made.
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