"How dare you make this noise"?--I said rudely--"do you not know that I
have given orders for complete quiet"--.
She rose, holding the child with the greatest dignity--The picture she
made could be in the Sistine Chapel.
"I beg your pardon" she said in a voice which was not quite steady--"I
did not know you had returned, and Madame Bizot asked me to hold little
Augustine while she went to the next floor--it shall not occur again!"
I longed to stay and gaze at them both--I would have liked to have
touched the baby's queer little fat fingers--I would have liked--Oh--I
know not what--And all the time Miss Sharp held the child protectively,
as though something evil would come from me and harm it.--Then she
turned and carried it out of the room--and I went back into my
sitting-room and flung myself down in my chair--.
What had I done--Beast--brute--What had I done?
And will she never come back again?--and will life be emptier than
ever--?
I could kill myself--.
* * * * *
It shall not be only Suzette but six others for supper to-night--.
Five a.m.--The dawn is here and it is not the rare sound of an August
pigeon that I am listening to, but the tender cooing of a woman and a
child--God, how can I get it out of my ears.