My poor, dear girl. How brutal and hard we men are, without thinking of it and without wishing to be so!
Don't say that. I was not made for you. I was only a little model; and you, you were a rising artist, and I never thought that you would belong to me forever. [Jean _sheds tears_.] No, no, don't cry; you have nothing to reproach yourself with. You have always been so good to me. It is only God who has been cruel to me.
Let me go on. I remained at Saint-Malo without revealing my condition. Then I came back to Paris, and here some months afterward the little one was born--the child! When I fully understood what had happened to me, I experienced at first such fear; yes, such fear! Then I remembered that he was bone of your bone, and flesh of your flesh; that you had given him life, and that he was a pledge from you. But one is so stupid when one knows nothing. One's ideas change just as one's moods change, and I became contented all at once; contented with the thought that I would bring him up, that he would grow to be a man, that he would call me mother. [_Weeps._] Now, he will never call me mother. He will never put his little arms around my neck, because I am going to leave him; because I am going away--I don't know where; but there, where everybody goes. Oh, God! My God!
Calm yourself, my little Musotte. Would you be able to speak as you do speak if you were as ill as you think you are?
You do not see that the fever is burning within me; that I am losing my head, and don't know longer what I say.
Pet me; pet me, Jean, and you will calm me.
There, there; don't speak any more for a minute or two. Let us remain quietly here near each other.
But I must speak to you; I have so many things to say to you yet, and do not know how to say them. My head is beyond my control. Oh, my God! how shall I do it? [_Raises herself, looks around her and sees the cradle._] Ah, yes, I know; I recollect, it is he, my child. Tell me, Jean, what will you do with him? You know that I am an orphan, and when I am gone he will be here all alone--alone in the world! Poor little thing! Listen, Jean, my head is quite clear now. I shall understand very well what you answer me now, and the peace of my closing moments depends upon it. I have no one to leave the little one to but you.