"
Between her words the doctor heard the sobbing of George, whose
head was buried in his arms. "Madame," he said, "your love for
that baby has just caused you to utter something ferocious! It
is not for you to choose. It is not for you to choose. I forbid
the nursing. The health of that woman does not belong to you."
"No," cried the grandmother, wildly, "nor does the health of out
child belong to you! If there is a hope of saving it, that hope
is in giving it more care than any other child; and you would
wish that I put it upon a mode of nourishment which the doctors
condemn, even for vigorous infants! You expect that I will let
myself be taken in like that? I answer you: she shall have the
milk which she needs, my poor little one! If there was a single
thing that one could do to save her--I should be a criminal to
neglect it!" And Madame Dupont broke out, with furious scorn,
"The nurse! The nurse! We shall know how to do our duty--we
shall take care of her, repay her. But our child before all! No
sir, no! Everything that can be done to save our baby I shall
do, let it cost what it will. To do what you say--you don't
realize it--it would be as if I should kill the child!" In the
end the agonized woman burst into tears. "Oh, my poor little
angel! My little savior!"
George had never ceased sobbing while his mother spoke; at these
last words his sobs became loud cries. He struck the floor with
his foot, he tore his hair, as if he were suffering from violent
physical pain.
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