"Oh, oh, oh!" he cried. "My little child! My
little child!" And then, in a horrified whisper to himself, "I
am a wretch! A criminal!"
"Madame," said the doctor, "you must calm yourself; you must both
calm yourselves. You will not help out the situation by
lamentations. You must learn to take it with calmness."
Madame Dupont set her lips together, and with a painful effort
recovered her self-control. "You are right, sir," she said, in a
low voice. "I ask your pardon; but if you only knew what that
child means to me! I lost one at that age. I am an old woman, I
am a widow--I had hardly hoped to live long enough to be a
grandmother. But, as you say--we must be calm." She turned to
the young man, "Calm yourself, my son. It is a poor way to show
our love for the child, to abandon ourselves to tears. Let us
talk, Doctor, and seriously--coldly. But I declare to you that
nothing will ever induce me to put the child on the bottle, when
I know that it might kill her. That is all I can say."
The doctor replied: "This isn't the first time that I find
myself in the present situation. Madame, I declare to you that
always--ALWAYS, you understand--persons who have rejected my
advice have had reason to repent it cruelly."
"The only thing of which I should repent--" began the other.
"You simply do not know," interrupted the doctor, "what such a
nurse is capable of. You cannot imagine what bitterness--
legitimate bitterness, you understand--joined to the rapacity,
the cupidity, the mischief-making impulse--might inspire these
people to do.
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