THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя

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      “I need not tell you to love him,” said the invalid with an effort. “Love him as you know how to love, with all your heart; love him for me and for Philippe, and endeavour to let him have a happier life than that of his parents.”

      She was choking with sobs, but after a few moments continued:

      “Although I have only to ask you, for you to love my child, I must implore you with joined hands to watch over him vigilantly. From tomorrow, hide him somewhere, in some out-of-the way corner; endeavour to prevent anyone suspecting the secret of his birth; in a word, swear to me that you will protect him against everyone and keep him always near you as a sacred trust.”

      As she spoke she became excited and Fine had to make her a sign imploring her to lower her voice.

      “Do you fear foul play?” inquired the flower-girl softly.

      “I know not what I fear. It seems to me that my uncle hates this child, and I hand him over to you so that he may not remain in his power. As I am unable to be there to watch over him I desire to leave him to an honest person who will make a man of him. Besides if, even, I were not going to quit this world, I would refuse to keep him with me, because I am weak and cowardly, and would not know how to defend him.”

      “Defend him against whom?”

      “I know not. I shudder, that is all. My uncle is implacable. But do not let us speak of that. I give you my child and in future he will be in safety. I can now go away in tranquillity of mind. I was so afraid not to see you tonight and not to be able to hand you this poor little mite!”

      There was a moment’s silence and Fine resumed in a hesitating voice:

      “As you are giving me your last instructions, I may, and, indeed, I ought to put a question to you. I know you will not misinterpret my intentions. I think you possess a large fortune which M. de Cazalis is administering?”

      “Yes,” answered Blanche, “but I have never troubled about the money.”

      “Your son requires nothing now, and so long as he remains with us, he may be poor but we will bestow a wealth of tenderness and happiness on him. Still, some day, a fortune, in his hands, may be a powerful lever. You do not intend to deprive him of your estate?”

      “I told you I was leaving the world, I shall be like one who is dead.”

      “That is another reason for assuring his future. Ask M. de Cazalis for a statement of his account. Set your affairs in order before you disappear.”

      Blanche shuddered.

      “Oh! I shall never dare do that,” she murmured. “You have no idea of the terrible power my uncle exercises over me: a mere look crushes me. No, I cannot ask him for a statement.”

      “However, your son’s interests require it.”

      “No, I tell you, I have not the courage.”

      Fine for an instant was silent and embarrassed. Her duty urged her to insist, she would have liked to overcome Blanche’s cowardly attitude.

      “As you will not act yourself,” she continued at last, “allow others to watch over the interests of this poor little creature. You make no objection to the fortune, which you now appear to abandon, being, one of these days, claimed on his behalf?”

      “You are cruel,” answered the young mother, with tears in her eyes, “you make me feel my weakness and powerlessness to act. You know that I give you all authority.”

      “Then nothing is lost. Do not put your name to any document, do not sign away a single inch of your property. And, moreover, as soon as you are better, let me have the certificates establishing your son’s identity. In that way we shall be strong, and able to speak with authority when the time comes.”

      Blanche seemed overcome with these questions of money. Had she been possessed of the least energy, she would not have withdrawn from the struggle, she would have lived for her child, protected him, herself, and defended his interests. The flower-girl guessed the tenor of her reflections and added in a lower voice:

      “If I have caused you pain, if I have put all these questions to you, it is because there is a man who has claims on this child, and who one of these days will himself watch over his interests. I shall then want to give him an account of my mission and instruct him as to how he must proceed in order to complete it.”

      Blanche burst out sobbing:

      “I have never spoken to you of Philippe,” she exclaimed, “because I ought to think of him no more. He left within me a love that has devoured me and brought me to repentance. Tell him I have loved him to the point of quitting this world at the age of seventeen, and tell him I entreat him to labour for the welfare of our son. Whatever he does will have my approval.”

      Just at that moment Fine heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She rose, hurriedly wrapped her cloak around her and took the child which the weeping mother was holding out to her, and passionately kissing again and again. This farewell was full of mute despair and anxious haste.

      Blanche got out of bed to accompany Fine and close the door behind her. On the threshold she gave the little one a last kiss on the forehead. Then, she had only just time to pull back the bolt of her bedroom door and get into bed again. Her uncle entered softly.

      CHAPTER IV

      IN WHICH M. DE CAZALIS RUNS THE RISK OF LOSING HIS HEAD WHILE LOSING HIS GREAT NEPHEW

      M. DE CAZALIS had fallen half asleep downstairs in a sitting-room under Blanche’s bedroom. In this drowsy state, it had several times seemed to him that he heard people walking about overhead. A more distinct sound ended by awakening him with a start. He stood up, full of distrust, and went to make sure whether he had been dreaming or not. But all he feared was that Blanche might have risen to write a letter and thus inform her friends outside of what had occurred. It never entered his head that someone could have penetrated within the house, for he had kept an eye on the front door like a watchdog.

      He went upstairs determined to see what his niece was doing. As he heard nothing moving, he gently pushed the door open and cast a look round the room. By the pale glimmer of the night-light, he perceived Blanche with her eyes closed, and her face half hidden by the bedclothes, apparently in a heavy sleep. Encouraged by the silence, he resolved to be quite sure by making a minute inspection of the apartments; he first of all searched the dressing-room and found nothing suspicious; he returned to the bedroom and there was nothing there. He was already smiling at his childish alarm, when a thought flashed across his mind and he suppressed an exclamation. He had not seen the child.

      Although he had already peered into every corner he renewed his search. He brutally shook the bed without Blanche opening her eyes, and it did not even occur to him from this circumstance that she was feigning slumber. His mind was a prey to the most excruciating agony, and in despair he ended by moving round like a wild beast, having but one idea, that of finding the newborn babe at any cost. In his anxiety he stooped down and looked under the articles of furniture, imagining his niece had hidden her son somewhere, to make him afraid and drive him mad. For nearly a quarter of an hour he ferreted about in a fury, returning to the same spot ten times over, unable to believe the dreadful truth.

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