And yet it was for your sake. Death would have been a rest, a
welcome release for me. But your breath was ebbing away, your
poor little arms no longer had strength to clasp me round the
neck. And then I cried: 'Perish my soul and body, if only my
child can be saved!' I believed such a sacrifice permissible in a
mother. I am punished for it as if it were a crime. I thought
you would be happy, my Wilkie. I said to myself that you, my
pride and joy, would move freely and proudly far above me and my
shame. I accepted ignominy, so that your honor might be preserved
intact. I knew the horrors of abject poverty, and I wished to
save my son from it. I would have licked up the very mire in your
pathway to save you from a stain. I renounced all hope for
myself, and I consecrated all that was noble and generous in my
nature to you. Oh! I will discover the vile coward who sent you
here, who betrayed my secret. I will discover him and I will have
my revenge! You were never to know this, Wilkie. In parting from
you, I took a solemn oath never to see you again, and to die
without the supreme consolation of feeling your lips upon my
forehead."
She could not continue; sobs choked her utterance. And for more
than a minute the silence was so profound that one could hear the
sound of low conversation in the hall outside, the exclamations of
the players as they greeted each unexpected turn of luck, and
occasionally a cry of "Banco!" or "I stake one hundred louis!"
Standing silent and motionless near the window, Wilkie gazed with
consternation at Madame d'Argeles, his mother, who was crouching
in the middle of the room with her face hidden in her hands, and
sobbing as if her heart would break.
Pages:
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148