"Heavens! To be kind, to pluck off one's armor of selfishness, to breathe, to love life, light, one's humble work, the little corner of the earth in which one's roots are spread. And if one cannot have breadth to try to make up for it in height and depth, like a tree in a cramped space growing upward to the sun."
"Yes. And first of all to love one another. If a man would feel more that he is the brother of a woman, and not only her prey, or that she must be his! If both would shed their vanity and each think a little less of themselves, and a little more of the other!... We are weak: help us. Let us not say to those who have fallen: 'I do not know you.' But: 'Courage, friend. We'll pull through.'"
They sat there in silence by the hearth, with the cat between them, all three still, lost in thought, gazing at the fire It was nearly out; but a little flame flickered up, and with its wing lightly touched Madame Arnaud's delicate face, which was suffused with the rosy light of an inward exaltation which was strange to her. She was amazed at herself for having been so open. She had never said so much before, and she would never say so much again.
She laid her hand on Christophe's and said:
She had been thinking of that from the outset. She talked and talked and became another woman, excited and exalted. But she was thinking of that and that only. With Christophe's first words she had woven a romance in her heart. She thought of the child left by its mother, of the happiness of bringing it up, and weaving about its little soul the web of her dreams and her love. And she thought:
"No. It is wicked of me: I ought not to rejoice in the misfortunes of others."
But the idea was too strong for her. She went on talking and talking, and her silent heart was flooded with hope.
"Yes, of course we have thought it over. Poor child! Both Olivier and I are incapable of rearing it. It needs a woman's care. I thought perhaps one of our friends would like to help us...."
"I wanted to talk to you about it. And then Cécile came in just as we were talking about it. When she heard of our difficulty, when she saw the child, she was so moved, she seemed so delighted, she said: 'Christophe....'"
Madame Arnaud's heart stopped; she did not hear what else he said: there was a mist in front of her eyes. She was fain to cry out: