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+Project Gutenberg’s Damaged Goods, by Upton Sinclair and Eugene Brieux
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Damaged Goods
+       A novelization of the play “Les Avaries”
+
+Author: Upton Sinclair
+        Eugene Brieux
+
+Posting Date: August 16, 2008 [EBook #1157]
+Release Date: January, 1998
+Last Updated: October 13, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAMAGED GOODS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by John P. Roberts, III
+
+
+
+
+
+DAMAGED GOODS
+
+The Great Play “Les Avaries” of Eugene Brieux
+
+Novelized with the approval of the author
+
+by Upton Sinclair
+
+
+
+THE PRODUCTION OF EUGENE BRIEUX’S PLAY, “LES AVARIES,” OR, TO GIVE IT
+ITS ENGLISH TITLE, “DAMAGED GOODS,” HAS INITIATED A MOVEMENT IN THIS
+COUNTRY WHICH MUST BE REGARDED AS EPOCH-MAKING.--New York Times
+
+
+
++++Page 4 is a virtually unreadable letter in handwritten script from M.
+Brieux.+++
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+My endeavor has been to tell a simple story, preserving as closely as
+possible the spirit and feeling of the original. I have tried, as it
+were, to take the play to pieces, and build a novel out of the same
+material. I have not felt at liberty to embellish M. Brieux’s ideas, and
+I have used his dialogue word for word wherever possible. Unless I have
+mis-read the author, his sole purpose in writing LES AVARIES was to
+place a number of most important facts before the minds of the public,
+and to drive them home by means of intense emotion. If I have been able
+to assist him, this bit of literary carpentering will be worth while. I
+have to thank M. Brieux for his kind permission to make the attempt, and
+for the cordial spirit which he has manifested.
+
+Upton Sinclair
+
+
+
+
+PRESS COMMENTS ON THE PLAY
+
+DAMAGED GOODS was first presented in America at a Friday matinee on
+March 14th, 1913, in the Fulton Theater, New York, before members of
+the Sociological Fund. Immediately it was acclaimed by public press and
+pulpit as the greatest contribution ever made by the Stage to the cause
+of humanity. Mr. Richard Bennett, the producer, who had the courage to
+present the play, with the aid of his co-workers, in the face of most
+savage criticism from the ignorant, was overwhelmed with requests for a
+repetition of the performance.
+
+Before deciding whether of not to present DAMAGED GOODS before the
+general public, it was arranged that the highest officials in the United
+States should pass judgment upon the manner in which the play teaches
+its vital lesson. A special guest performance for members of the
+Cabinet, members of both houses of Congress, members of the United
+States Supreme Court, representatives of the Diplomatic corps and others
+prominent in national life was given in Washington, D.C.
+
+Although the performance was given on a Sunday afternoon (April 6,
+1913), the National Theater was crowded to the very doors with the most
+distinguished audience ever assembled in America, including exclusively
+the foremost men and women of the Capital. The most noted clergymen of
+Washington were among the spectators.
+
+The result of this remarkable performance was a tremendous endorsement
+of the play and of the manner in which Mr. Bennett and his co-workers
+were presenting it.
+
+This reception resulted in the continuance of the New York performances
+until mid-summer and is responsible for the decision on the part of Mr.
+Bennett to offer the play in every city in America where citizens feel
+that the ultimate welfare of the community is dependent upon a higher
+standard of morality and clearer understanding of the laws of health.
+
+
+The WASHINGTON POST, commenting on the Washington performance, said:
+
+The play was presented with all the impressiveness of a sermon; with all
+the vigor and dynamic force of a great drama; with all the earnestness
+and power of a vital truth.
+
+In many respects the presentation of this dramatization of a great
+social evil assumed the aspects of a religious service. Dr. Donald C.
+Macleod, pastor of the First Presbyterian Church, mounted the rostrum
+usually occupied by the leader of the orchestra, and announced that the
+nature of the performance, the sacredness of the play, and the character
+of the audience gave to the play the significance of a tremendous sermon
+in behalf of mankind, and that as such it was eminently fitting that
+a divine blessing be invoked. Dr. Earle Wilfley, pastor of the Vermont
+Avenue Christian Church, asked all persons in the audience to bow
+their heads in a prayer for the proper reception of the message to be
+presented from the stage. Dr. MacLeod then read the Bernard Shaw preface
+to the play, and asked that there be no applause during the performance,
+a suggestion which was rigidly followed, thus adding greatly to the
+effectiveness and the seriousness of the dramatic portrayal.
+
+The impression made upon the audience by the remarkable play is
+reflected in such comments as the following expressions voiced after the
+performance:
+
+RABBI SIMON, OF THE WASHINGTON HEBREW CONGREGATION--If I could preach
+from my pulpit a sermon one tenth as powerful, as convincing, as
+far-reaching, and as helpful as this performance of DAMAGED GOODS must
+be, I would consider that I had achieved the triumph of my life.
+
+COMMISSIONER CUNO H. RUDOLPH--I was deeply impressed by what I saw, and
+I think that the drama should be repeated in every city, a matinee one
+day for father and son and the next day for mother and daughter.
+
+REV. EARLE WILFLEY--I am confirmed in the opinion that we must take up
+our cudgels in a crusade against the modern problems brought to the
+fore by DAMAGED GOODS. The report that these diseases are increasing is
+enough to make us get busy on a campaign against them.
+
+SURGEON GENERAL BLUE--It was a most striking and telling lesson. For
+years we have been fighting these condition in the navy. It is high time
+that civilians awakened to the dangers surrounding them and crusaded
+against them in a proper manner.
+
+MRS. ARCHIBALD HOPKINS--The play was a powerful presentation of a very
+important question and was handled in a most admirable manner. The
+drama is a fine entering wedge for this crusade and is bound to do
+considerable good in conveying information of a very serious nature.
+
+MINISTER PEZET, OF PERU--There can be no doubt but that the performance
+will have great uplifting power, and accomplish the good for which it
+was created. Fortunately, we do not have the prudery in South America
+that you of the north possess, and have open minds to consider these
+serious questions.
+
+JUSTICE DANIEL THEW WRIGHT--I feel quite sure that DAMAGED GOODS will
+have considerable effect in educating the people of the nature of the
+danger that surrounds them.
+
+SENATOR KERN, OF INDIANA--There can be no denial of the fact that it is
+time to look at the serious problems presented in the play with an open
+mind.
+
+
+Brieux has been hailed by Bernard Shaw as “incomparably the greatest
+writer France has produced since Moliere,” and perhaps no writer ever
+wielded his pen more earnestly in the service of the race. To quote from
+an article by Edwin E. Slosson in the INDEPENDENT:
+
+Brieux is not one who believes that social evils are to be cured by laws
+and yet more laws. He believes that most of the trouble is caused
+by ignorance and urges education, public enlightenment and franker
+recognition of existing conditions. All this may be needed, but still we
+may well doubt its effectiveness as a remedy. The drunken Helot argument
+is not a strong one, and those who lead a vicious life know more about
+its risks than any teacher or preacher could tell them. Brieux also
+urges the requirement of health certificates for marriage, such as many
+clergymen now insist upon and which doubtless will be made compulsory
+before long in many of our States.
+
+Brieux paints in black colors yet is no fanatic; in fact, he will
+be criticised by many as being too tolerant of human weakness. The
+conditions of society and the moral standards of France are so different
+from those of America that his point of view and his proposals for
+reform will not meet with general acceptance, but it is encouraging to
+find a dramatist who realizes the importance of being earnest and who
+uses his art in defense of virtue instead of its destruction.
+
+
+Other comments follow, showing the great interest manifested in the play
+and the belief in the highest seriousness of its purpose:
+
+There is no uncleanness in facts. The uncleanness is in the glamour, in
+the secret imagination. It is in hints, half-truths, and suggestions the
+threat to life lies.
+
+This play puts the horrible truth in so living a way, with such clean,
+artistic force, that the mind is impressed as it could possibly be
+impressed in no other manner.
+
+Best of all, it is the physician who dominates the action. There is no
+sentimentalizing. There is no weak and morbid handling of the theme.
+The doctor appears in his ideal function, as the modern high-priest of
+truth. Around him writhe the victims of ignorance and the criminals
+of conventional cruelty. Kind, stern, high-minded, clear-headed, yet
+human-hearted, he towers over all, as the master.
+
+This is as it should be. The man to say the word to save the world of
+ignorant wretches, cursed by the clouds and darkness a mistaken modesty
+has thrown around a life-and-death instinct, is the physician.
+
+The only question is this: Is this play decent? My answer is that it is
+the decentest play that has been in New York for a year. It is so decent
+that it is religious.--HEARST’S MAGAZINE.
+
+
+The play is, above all, a powerful plea for the tearing away of the veil
+of mystery that has so universally shrouded this subject of the penalty
+of sexual immorality. It is a plea for light on this hidden danger, that
+fathers and mothers, young men and young women, may know the terrible
+price that must be paid, not only by the generation that violates the
+law, but by the generations to come. It is a serious question just how
+the education of men and women, especially young men and young women, in
+the vital matters of sex relationship should be carried on. One thing is
+sure, however. The worst possible way is the one which has so often been
+followed in the past--not to carry it on at all but to ignore it.--THE
+OUTLOOK.
+
+
+It (DAMAGED GOODS) is, of course, a masterpiece of “thesis drama,”--an
+argument, dogmatic, insistent, inescapable, cumulative, between science
+and common sense, on one side, and love, of various types, on the other.
+It is what Mr. Bernard Shaw has called a “drama of discussion”; it
+has the splendid movement of the best Shaw plays, unrelieved--and
+undiluted--by Shavian paradox, wit, and irony. We imagine that many
+audiences at the Fulton Theater were astonished at the play’s showing
+of sheer strength as acted drama. Possibly it might not interest the
+general public; probably it would be inadvisable to present it to them.
+But no thinking person, with the most casual interest in current social
+evils, could listen to the version of Richard Bennett, Wilton Lackaye,
+and their associates, without being gripped by the power of Brieux’s
+message.--THE DIAL.
+
+
+It is a wonder that the world has been so long in getting hold of this
+play, which is one of France’s most valuable contributions to the drama.
+Its history is interesting. Brieux wrote it over ten years ago. Antoine
+produced it at his theater and Paris immediately censored it, but soon
+thought better of it and removed the ban. During the summer of 1910
+it was played in Brussels before crowded houses, for then the city was
+thronged with visitors to the exposition. Finally New York got it last
+spring and eugenic enthusiasts and doctors everywhere have welcomed it.
+--THE INDEPENDENT.
+
+
+A letter to Mr. Bennett from Dr. Hills, Pastor of Plymouth Church,
+Brooklyn.
+
+23 Monroe Street Bklyn. August 1, 1913.
+
+Mr. Richard Bennett, New York City, N.Y. My Dear Mr. Bennett:
+
+During the past twenty-one years since I entered public life, I have
+experienced many exciting hours under the influence of reformer, orator
+and actor, but, in this mood of retrospection, I do not know that I
+have ever passed through a more thrilling, terrible, and yet hopeful
+experience than last evening, while I listened to your interpretation of
+Eugene Brieux’ “DAMAGED GOODS.”
+
+I have been following your work with ever deepening interest. It is not
+too much to say that you have changed the thinking of the people of our
+country as to the social evil. At last, thank God, this conspiracy of
+silence is ended. No young man who sees “Damaged Goods” will ever be the
+same again. If I wanted to build around an innocent boy buttresses of
+fire and granite, and lend him triple armour against temptation and the
+assaults of evil, I would put him for one evening under your influence.
+That which the teacher, the preacher and the parent have failed to
+accomplish it has been given to you to achieve. You have done a work for
+which your generation owes you an immeasurable debt of gratitude.
+
+I shall be delighted to have you use my Study of Social Diseases and
+Heredity in connection with your great reform.
+
+With all good wishes, I am, my dear Mr. Bennett, Faithfully yours,
+
+Newell Dwight Hillis
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+It was four o’clock in the morning when George Dupont closed the door
+and came down the steps to the street. The first faint streaks of dawn
+were in the sky, and he noticed this with annoyance, because he knew
+that his hair was in disarray and his whole aspect disorderly; yet he
+dared not take a cab, because he feared to attract attention at home.
+When he reached the sidewalk, he glanced about him to make sure that no
+one had seen him leave the house, then started down the street, his eyes
+upon the sidewalk before him.
+
+George had the feeling of the morning after. There are few men in this
+world of abundant sin who will not know what the phrase means. The fumes
+of the night had evaporated; he was quite sober now, quite free from
+excitement. He saw what he had done, and it seemed to him something
+black and disgusting.
+
+Never had a walk seemed longer than the few blocks which he had to
+traverse to reach his home. He must get there before the maid was
+up, before the baker’s boy called with the rolls; otherwise, what
+explanation could he give?--he who had always been such a moral man, who
+had been pointed out by mothers as an example to their sons.
+
+George thought of his own mother, and what she would think if she could
+know about his night’s adventure. He thought again and again, with a
+pang of anguish, of Henriette. Could it be possible that a man who was
+engaged, whose marriage contract had actually been signed, who was soon
+to possess the love of a beautiful and noble girl--that such a man could
+have been weak enough and base enough to let himself be trapped into
+such a low action?
+
+He went back over the whole series of events, shuddering at them, trying
+to realize how they had happened, trying to excuse himself for them.
+He had not intended such a culmination; he had never meant to do such a
+thing in his life. He had not thought of any harm when he had accepted
+the invitation to the supper party with his old companions from the law
+school. Of course, he had known that several of these chums led “fast”
+ lives--but, then, surely a fellow could go to a friend’s rooms for a
+lark without harm!
+
+He remembered the girl who had sat by his side at the table. She had
+come with a friend who was a married woman, and so he had assumed that
+she was all right. George remembered how embarrassed he had been when
+first he had noticed her glances at him. But then the wine had begun
+to go to his head--he was one of those unfortunate wretches who cannot
+drink wine at all. He had offered to take the girl home in a cab, and on
+the way he had lost his head.
+
+Oh! What a wretched thing it was. He could hardly believe that it was he
+who had spoken those frenzied words; and yet he must have spoken them,
+because he remembered them. He remembered that it had taken a long
+time to persuade her. He had had to promise her a ring like the one her
+married friend wore. Before they entered her home she had made him take
+off his shoes, so that the porter might not hear them. This had struck
+George particularly, because, even flushed with excitement as he was,
+he had not forgotten the warnings his father had given him as to the
+dangers of contact with strange women. He had thought to himself, “This
+girl must be safe. It is probably the first time she has ever done such
+a thing.”
+
+But now George could get but little consolation out of that idea. He
+was suffering intensely--the emotion described by the poet in the bitter
+words about “Time’s moving finger having writ.” His mind, seeking some
+explanation, some justification, went back to the events before that
+night. With a sudden pang of yearning, he thought of Lizette. She was a
+decent girl, and had kept him decent, and he was lonely without her. He
+had been so afraid of being found out that he had given her up when he
+became engaged; but now for a while he felt that he would have to break
+his resolution, and pay his regular Sunday visit to the little flat in
+the working-class portion of Paris.
+
+It was while George was fitting himself for the same career as his
+father--that of notary--that he had made the acquaintance of the young
+working girl. It may not be easy to believe, but Lizette had really been
+a decent girl. She had a family to take care of, and was in need. There
+was a grandmother in poor health, a father not much better, and three
+little brothers; so Lizette did not very long resist George Dupont, and
+he felt quite virtuous in giving her sufficient money to take care of
+these unfortunate people. Among people of his class it was considered
+proper to take such things if one paid for them.
+
+All the family of this working girl were grateful to him. They adored
+him, and they called him Uncle Raoul (for of course he had not been so
+foolish as to give them his true name).
+
+Since George was paying for Lizette, he felt he had the right to control
+her life. He gave her fair warning concerning his attitude. If she
+deceived him he would leave her immediately. He told this to her
+relatives also, and so he had them all watching her. She was never
+trusted out alone. Every Sunday George went to spend the day with his
+little “family,” so that his coming became almost a matter of tradition.
+He interested her in church affairs--mass and vespers were her regular
+occasions for excursions. George rented two seats, and the grandmother
+went with her to the services. The simple people were proud to see their
+name engraved upon the brass plate of the pew.
+
+The reason for all these precautions was George’s terror of disease.
+He had been warned by his father as to the dangers which young men
+encounter in their amours. And these lessons had sunk deep into George’s
+heart; he had made up his mind that whatever his friends might do, he,
+for one, would protect himself.
+
+That did not mean, of course, that he intended to live a virtuous life;
+such was the custom among young men of his class, not had it probably
+ever occurred to his father that it was possible for a young man to do
+such a thing. The French have a phrase, “l’homme moyen sensuel”--the
+average sensual man. And George was such a man. He had no noble
+idealisms, no particular reverence for women. The basis of his attitude
+was a purely selfish one; he wanted to enjoy himself, and at the same
+time to keep out of trouble.
+
+He did not find any happiness in the renunciation which he imposed
+upon himself; he had no religious ideas about it. On the contrary,
+he suffered keenly, and was bitter because he had no share in the
+amusements of his friends. He stuck to his work and forced himself to
+keep regular hours, preparing for his law examinations. But all the
+time he was longing for adventures. And, of course, this could not go
+on forever, for the motive of fear alone is not sufficient to subdue the
+sexual urge in a full-blooded young man.
+
+The affair with Lizette might have continued much longer had it not been
+for the fact that his father died. He died quite suddenly, while George
+was away on a trip. The son came back to console his broken-hearted
+mother, and in the two week they spent in the country together the
+mother broached a plan to him. The last wish of the dying man had
+been that his son should be fixed in life. In the midst of his intense
+suffering he had been able to think about the matter, and had named the
+girl whom he wished George to marry. Naturally, George waited with some
+interest to learn who this might be. He was surprised when his mother
+told him that it was his cousin, Henriette Loches.
+
+He could not keep his emotion from revealing itself in his face. “It
+doesn’t please you?” asked his mother, with a tone disappointment.
+
+“Why no, mother,” he answered. “It’s not that. It just surprises me.”
+
+“But why?” asked the mother. “Henriette is a lovely girl and a good
+girl.”
+
+“Yes, I know,” said George; “but then she is my cousin, and--” He
+blushed a little with embarrassment. “I had never thought of her in that
+way.”
+
+Madame Dupont laid her hand upon her son’s. “Yes, George,” she said
+tenderly. “I know. You are such a good boy.”
+
+Now, of course, George did not feel that he was quite such a good boy;
+but his mother was a deeply religious woman, who had no idea of the
+truth about the majority of men. She would never have got over the shock
+if he had told her about himself, and so he had to pretend to be just
+what she thought him.
+
+“Tell me,” she continued, after a pause, “have you never felt the least
+bit in love?”
+
+“Why no--I don’t think so,” George stammered, becoming conscious of a
+sudden rise of temperature in his cheeks.
+
+“Because,” said his mother, “it is really time that you were settled in
+life. Your father said that we should have seen to it before, and now it
+is my duty to see to it. It is not good for you to live alone so long.”
+
+“But, mother, I have YOU,” said George generously.
+
+“Some day the Lord may take me away,” was the reply. “I am getting
+old. And, George, dear--” Here suddenly her voice began to tremble with
+feeling--“I would like to see my baby grandchildren before I go. You
+cannot imagine what it would mean to me.”
+
+Madame Dupont saw how much this subject distressed her son, so she went
+on to the more worldly aspects of the matter. Henriette’s father was
+well-to-do, and he would give her a good dowry. She was a charming and
+accomplished girl. Everybody would consider him most fortunate if the
+match could be arranged. Also, there was an elderly aunt to whom Madame
+Dupont had spoken, and who was much taken with the idea. She owned a
+great deal of property and would surely help the young couple.
+
+George did not see just how he could object to this proposition, even if
+he had wanted to. What reason could he give for such a course? He could
+not explain that he already had a family--with stepchildren, so to
+speak, who adored him. And what could he say to his mother’s obsession,
+to which she came back again and again--her longing to see her
+grandchildren before she died? Madame Dupont waited only long enough for
+George to stammer out a few protestations, and then in the next breath
+to take them back; after which she proceeded to go ahead with the match.
+The family lawyers conferred together, and the terms of the settlement
+were worked out and agreed upon. It happened that immediately afterwards
+George learned of an opportunity to purchase the practice of a notary,
+who was ready to retire from business in two months’ time. Henriette’s
+father consented to advance a portion of her dowry for this purpose.
+
+Thus George was safely started upon the same career as his father, and
+this was to him a source of satisfaction which he did not attempt to
+deny, either to himself of to any one else. George was a cautious young
+man, who came of a frugal and saving stock. He had always been taught
+that it was his primary duty to make certain of a reasonable amount of
+comfort. From his earliest days, he had been taught to regard material
+success as the greatest goal in life, and he would never have dreamed
+of engaging himself to a girl without money. But when he had the good
+fortune to meet one who possessed desirable personal qualities in
+addition to money, he was not in the least barred from appreciating
+those qualities. They were, so to speak, the sauce which went with the
+meat, and it seemed to him that in this case the sauce was of the very
+best.
+
+George--a big fellow of twenty-six, with large, round eyes and a
+good-natured countenance--was full blooded, well fed, with a hearty
+laugh which spoke of unimpaired contentment, a soul untroubled in its
+deeps. He seemed to himself the luckiest fellow in the whole round
+world; he could not think what he had done to deserve the good fortune
+of possessing such a girl as Henriette. He was ordinarily of a somewhat
+sentimental turn--easily influenced by women and sensitive to their
+charms. Moreover, his relationship with Lizette had softened him. He had
+learned to love the young working girl, and now Henriette, it seemed,
+was to reap the benefit of his experience with her.
+
+In fact, he found himself always with memories of Lizette in his
+relationships with the girl who was to be his wife. When the engagement
+was announced, and he claimed his first kiss from his bride-to-be, as
+he placed a ring upon her finger, he remembered the first time he had
+kissed Lizette, and a double blush suffused his round countenance. When
+he walked arm and arm with Henriette in the garden he remembered how he
+had walked just so with the other girl, and he was interested to compare
+the words of the two. He remembered what a good time had had when he
+had taken Lizette and her little family for a picnic upon one of the
+excursion steamers which run down the River Seine. Immediately he
+decided that he would like to take Henriette on such a picnic, and he
+persuaded an aunt of Henriette’s to go with her as a chaperon. George
+took his bride-to-be to the same little inn where he had lunch before.
+
+Thus he was always haunted by memories, some of which made him cheerful
+and some of which made him mildly sad. He soon got used to the idea, and
+did not find it awkward, except when he had to suppress the impulse to
+tell Henriette something which Lizette had said, or some funny incident
+which had happened in the home of the little family. Sometimes he found
+himself thinking that it was a shame to have to suppress these impulses.
+There must be something wrong, he thought, with a social system which
+made it necessary for him to hide a thing which was so obvious and so
+sensible. Here he was, a man twenty-six years of age; he could not
+have afforded to marry earlier, nor could he, as he thought, have been
+expected to lead a continent life. And he had really loved Lizette; she
+was really a good girl. Yet, if Henriette had got any idea of it, she
+would have been horrified and indignant--she might even have broken off
+the engagement.
+
+And then, too, there was Henriette’s father, a personage of great
+dignity and importance. M. Loches was a deputy of the French Parliament,
+from a district in the provinces. He was a man of upright life, and a
+man who made a great deal of that upright life--keeping it on a pedestal
+where everyone might observe it. It was impossible to imagine M. Loches
+in an undignified or compromising situation--such as the younger man
+found himself facing in the matter of Lizette.
+
+The more he thought about it the more nervous and anxious George became.
+Then it was decided it would be necessary for him to break with
+the girl, and be “good” until the time of his marriage. Dear little
+soft-eyed Lizette--he did not dare to face her personally; he could
+never bear to say good-by, he felt. Instead, he went to the father,
+who as a man could be expected to understand the situation. George was
+embarrassed and not a little nervous about it; for although he had never
+misrepresented his attitude to the family, one could never feel entirely
+free from the possibility of blackmail in such cases. However, Lizette’s
+father behaved decently, and was duly grateful for the moderate sum of
+money which George handed him in parting. He promised to break the news
+gently to Lizette, and George went away with his mind made up that he
+would never see her again.
+
+This resolution he kept, and he considered himself very virtuous in
+doing it. But the truth was that he had grown used to intimacy with a
+woman, and was restless without it. And that, he told himself, was why
+he yielded to the shameful temptation the night of that fatal supper
+party.
+
+He paid for the misadventure liberally in remorse. He felt that he had
+been a wretch, that he had disgraced himself forever, that he had proved
+himself unworthy of the pure girl he was to marry. So keen was his
+feeling that it was several days before he could bring himself to see
+Henriette again; and when he went, it was with a mind filled with a
+brand-new set of resolutions. It was the last time that he would ever
+fall into error. He would be a new man from then on. He thanked God
+that there was no chance of his sin being known, that he might have an
+opportunity to prove his new determination.
+
+So intense were his feelings that he could not help betraying a part of
+them to Henriette. They sat in the garden one soft summer evening, with
+Henriette’s mother occupied with her crocheting at a decorous distance.
+George, in reverent and humble mood, began to drop vague hints that he
+was really unworthy of his bride-to-be. He said that he had not always
+been as good as he should have been; he said that her purity and
+sweetness had awakened in him new ideals; so that he felt his old life
+had been full of blunders. Henriette, of course, had but the vaguest of
+ideas as to what the blunders of a tender and generous young man like
+George might be. So she only loved him the more for his humility, and
+was flattered to have such a fine effect upon him, to awaken in him such
+moods of exaltation. When he told her that all men were bad, and that
+no man was worthy of such a beautiful love, she was quite ravished, and
+wiped away tears from her eyes.
+
+It would have been a shame to spoil such a heavenly mood by telling the
+real truth. Instead, George contented himself with telling of the new
+resolutions he had formed. After all, they were the things which really
+mattered; for Henriette was going to live with his future, not with his
+past.
+
+It seemed to George a most wonderful thing, this innocence of a young
+girl, which enabled her to move through a world of wickedness with
+unpolluted mind. It was a touching thing; and also, as a prudent young
+man could not help realizing, a most convenient thing. He realized the
+importance of preserving it, and thought that if he ever had a daughter,
+he would protect her as rigidly as Henriette had been protected. He
+made haste to shy off from the subject of his “badness” and to turn the
+conversation with what seemed a clever jest.
+
+“If I am going to be so good,” he said, “don’t forget that you will have
+to be good also!”
+
+“I will try,” said Henriette, who was still serious.
+
+“You will have to try hard,” he persisted. “You will find that you have
+a very jealous husband.”
+
+“Will I?” said Henriette, beaming with happiness--for when a woman is
+very much in love she doesn’t in the least object to the man’s being
+jealous.
+
+“Yes, indeed,” smiled George. “I’ll always be watching you.”
+
+“Watching me?” echoed the girl with a surprised look.
+
+And immediately he felt ashamed of himself for his jest. There could be
+no need to watch Henriette, and it was bad taste even to joke about it
+at such a time. That was one of the ideas which he had brought with him
+from his world of evil.
+
+The truth was, however, that George would always be a suspicious
+husband; nothing could ever change that fact, for there was something in
+his own conscience which he could not get out, and which would make it
+impossible for him to be at ease as a married man. It was the memory of
+something which had happened earlier in his life before he met Lizette.
+There had been one earlier experience, with the wife of his dearest
+friend. She had been much younger than her husband, and had betrayed an
+interest in George, who had yielded to the temptation. For several years
+the intrigue continued, and George considered it a good solution of a
+young man’s problem. There had been no danger of contamination, for he
+knew that his friend was a man of pure and rigid morals, a jealous
+man who watched his wife, and did not permit her to contract those new
+relations which are always dangerous. As for George, he helped in this
+worthy work, keeping the woman in terror of some disease. He told her
+that almost all men were infected, for he hoped by this means to keep
+her from deceiving him.
+
+I am aware that this may seem a dreadful story. As I do not want anyone
+to think too ill of George Dupont, I ought, perhaps, to point out that
+people feel differently about these matters in France. In judging the
+unfortunate young man, we must judge him by the customs of his own
+country, and not by ours. In France, they are accustomed to what is
+called the MARIAGE DE CONVENANCE. The young girl is not permitted to go
+about and make her own friends and decide which one of them she prefers
+for her husband; on the contrary, she is strictly guarded, her training
+often is of a religious nature, and her marriage is a matter of
+business, to be considered and decided by her parents and those of the
+young man. Now, whatever we may think right, it is humanly certain that
+where marriages are made in that way, the need of men and women for
+sympathy and for passionate interest will often lead to the forming of
+irregular relationships after marriage. It is not possible to present
+statistics as to the number of such irregular relationships in Parisian
+society; but in the books which he read and in the plays which he saw,
+George found everything to encourage him to think that it was a romantic
+and delightful thing to keep up a secret intrigue with the wife of his
+best friend.
+
+It should also, perhaps, be pointed out that we are here telling the
+truth, and the whole truth, about George Dupont; and that it is not
+customary to tell this about men, either in real life or in novels.
+There is a great deal of concealment in the world about matters of sex;
+and in such matters the truth-telling man is apt to suffer in reputation
+in comparison with the truth-concealing one.
+
+Nor had George really been altogether callous about the thing. It had
+happened that his best friend had died in his arms; and this had so
+affected the guilty pair that they had felt their relationship was no
+longer possible. She had withdrawn to nurse her grief alone, and
+George had been so deeply affected that he had avoided affairs and
+entanglements with women until his meeting with Lizette.
+
+All this was now in the far distant past, but it had made a deeper
+impression upon George than he perhaps realized, and it was now working
+in his mind and marring his happiness. Here was a girl who loved him
+with a noble and unselfish and whole-hearted love--and yet he would
+never be able to trust her as she deserved, but would always have
+suspicions lurking in the back of his mind. He would be unable to have
+his friends intimate in his home, because of the memory of what he had
+once done to a friend. It was a subtle kind of punishment. But so it
+is that Nature often finds ways of punishing us, without our even being
+aware of it.
+
+That was all for the future, however. At present, George was happy. He
+put his black sin behind him, feeling that he had obtained absolution
+by his confession to Henriette. Day by day, as he realized his good
+fortune, his round face beamed with more and yet more joy.
+
+He went for a little trip to Henriette’s home in the country. It was
+a simple village, and they took walks in the country, and stopped to
+refresh themselves at a farmhouse occupied by one of M. Loches’ tenants.
+Here was a rosy and buxom peasant woman, with a nursing child in her
+arms. She was destined a couple of years later to be the foster-mother
+of Henriette’s little girl and to play an important part in her life.
+But the pair had no idea of that at present. They simply saw a proud
+and happy mother, and Henriette played with the baby, giving vent to
+childish delight. Then suddenly she looked up and saw that George was
+watching her, and as she read his thoughts a beautiful blush suffused
+her cheeks.
+
+As for George, he turned away and went out under the blue sky in a kind
+of ecstasy. Life seemed very wonderful to him just then; he had found
+its supreme happiness, which was love. He was really getting quite mad
+about Henriette, he told himself. He could hardly believe that the day
+was coming when he would be able to clasp her in his arms.
+
+But in the blue sky of George’s happiness there was one little cloud of
+storm. As often happens with storm-clouds, it was so small that at first
+he paid no attention to it at all.
+
+He noted upon his body one day a tiny ulcer. At first he treated it with
+salve purchased from an apothecary. Then after a week or two, when this
+had no effect, he began to feel uncomfortable. He remembered suddenly he
+had heard about the symptoms of an unmentionable, dreadful disease, and
+a vague terror took possession of him.
+
+For days he tried to put it to one side. The idea was nonsense, it was
+absurd in connection with a woman so respectable! But the thought would
+not be put away, and finally he went to a school friend, who was a man
+of the world, and got him to talk on the subject. Of course, George had
+to be careful, so that his friend should not suspect that he had any
+special purpose in mind.
+
+The friend was willing to talk. It was a vile disease, he said; but one
+was foolish to bother about it, because it was so rare. There were other
+diseases which fellows got, which nearly every fellow had, and to which
+none of them paid any attention. But one seldom met anyone who had the
+red plague that George dreaded.
+
+“And yet,” he added, “according to the books, it isn’t so uncommon.
+I suppose the truth is that people hide it. A chap naturally wouldn’t
+tell, when he knew it would damn him for life.”
+
+George had a sick sensation inside of him. “Is it as bad as that?” he
+asked.
+
+“Of course,” said the other, “Should you want to have anything to do
+with a person who had it? Should you be willing to room with him or
+travel with him? You wouldn’t even want to shake hands with him!”
+
+“No, I suppose not,” said George, feebly.
+
+“I remember,” continued the other, “an old fellow who used to live out
+in the country near me. He was not so very old, either, but he looked
+it. He had to be pushed around in a wheel-chair. People said he had
+locomotor ataxia, but that really meant syphilis. We boys used to poke
+all kinds of fun at him because one windy day his hat and his wig were
+blown off together, and we discovered that he was as bald as an egg.
+We used to make jokes about his automobile, as we called it. It had a
+little handle in front, instead of a steering-wheel, and a man behind to
+push, instead of an engine.”
+
+“How horrible!” remarked George with genuine feeling.
+
+“I remember the poor devil had a paralysis soon after,” continued the
+friend, quite carelessly. “He could not steer any more, and also he lost
+his voice. When you met him he would look at you as it he thought he was
+talking, but all he could say was ‘Ga-ga-ga’.”
+
+George went away from this conversation in a cold sweat. He told himself
+over and over again that he was a fool, but still he could not get the
+hellish idea out of his mind. He found himself brooding over it all day
+and lying awake at night, haunted by images of himself in a wheel-chair,
+and without any hair on his head. He realized that the sensible thing
+would be for him to go to a doctor and make certain about his condition;
+but he could not bring himself to face the ordeal--he was ashamed to
+admit to a doctor that he had laid himself open to such a taint.
+
+He began to lose the radiant expression from his round and rosy face. He
+had less appetite, and his moods of depression became so frequent that
+he could not hide then even from Henriette. She asked him once or twice
+if there were not something the matter with him, and he laughed--a
+forced and hurried laugh--and told her that he had sat up too late the
+night before, worrying over the matter of his examinations. Oh, what a
+cruel thing it was that a man who stood in the very gateway of such
+a garden of delight should be tormented and made miserable by this
+loathsome idea!
+
+The disturbing symptom still continued, and so at last George purchased
+a medical book, dealing with the subject of the disease. Then, indeed,
+he opened up a chamber of horrors; he made up his mind an abiding place
+of ghastly images. In the book there were pictures of things so awful
+that he turned white, and trembled like a leaf, and had to close the
+volume and hide it in the bottom of his trunk. But he could not banish
+the pictures from his mind. Worst of all, he could not forget the
+description of the first symptom of the disease, which seemed to
+correspond exactly with his own. So at last he made up his mind he must
+ascertain definitely the truth about his condition.
+
+He began to think over plans for seeing a doctor. He had heard somewhere
+a story about a young fellow who had fallen into the hands of a quack,
+and been ruined forever. So he decided that he would consult only the
+best authority.
+
+He got the names of the best-known works on the subject from a
+bookstore, and found that the author of one of these books was
+practicing in Paris as a specialist. Two or three days elapsed before he
+was able to get up the courage to call on this doctor. And oh, the shame
+and horror of sitting in his waiting-room with the other people, none of
+whom dared to look each other in the eyes! They must all be afflicted,
+George thought, and he glanced at them furtively, looking for the
+various symptoms of which he had read. Or were there, perhaps, some like
+himself--merely victims of a foolish error, coming to have the hag of
+dread pulled from off their backs?
+
+And then suddenly, while he was speculating, there stood the doctor,
+signaling to him. His turn had come!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+The doctor was a man about forty years of age, robust, with every
+appearance of a strong character. In the buttonhole of the frock coat
+he wore was a red rosette, the decoration of some order. Confused and
+nervous as George was, he got a vague impression of the physician’s
+richly furnished office, with its bronzes, marbles and tapestries.
+
+The doctor signaled to the young man to be seated in the chair before
+his desk. George complied, and then, as he wiped away the perspiration
+from his forehead, stammered out a few words, explaining his errand. Of
+course, he said, it could not be true, but it was a man’s duty not
+to take any chances in such a matter. “I have not been a man of loose
+life,” he added; “I have not taken so many chances as other men.”
+
+The doctor cut him short with the brief remark that one chance was all
+that was necessary. Instead of discussing such questions, he would make
+an examination. “We do not say positively in these cases until we have
+made a blood test. That is the one way to avoid the possibility of
+mistake.”
+
+A drop of blood was squeezed out of George’s finger on to a little glass
+plate. The doctor retired to an adjoining room, and the victim sat
+alone in the office, deriving no enjoyment from the works of art which
+surrounded him, but feeling like a prisoner who sits in the dock with
+his life at stake while the jury deliberates.
+
+The doctor returned, calm and impassive, and seated himself in his
+office-chair.
+
+“Well, doctor?” asked George. He was trembling with terror.
+
+“Well,” was the reply, “there is no doubt whatever.”
+
+George wiped his forehead. He could not credit the words. “No doubt
+whatever? In what sense?”
+
+“In the bad sense,” said the other.
+
+He began to write a prescription, without seeming to notice how George
+turned page with terror. “Come,” he said, after a silence, “you must
+have known the truth pretty well.”
+
+“No, no, sir!” exclaimed George.
+
+“Well,” said the other, “you have syphilis.”
+
+George was utterly stunned. “My God!” he exclaimed.
+
+The doctor, having finished his prescription, looked up and observed his
+condition. “Don’t trouble yourself, sir. Out of every seven men you meet
+upon the street, in society, or at the theater, there is at least one
+who has been in your condition. One out of seven--fifteen per cent!”
+
+George was staring before him. He spoke low, as if to himself. “I know
+what I am going to do.”
+
+“And I know also,” said the doctor, with a smile. “There is your
+prescription. You are going to take it to the drugstore and have it put
+up.”
+
+George took the prescription, mechanically, but whispered, “No, sir.”
+
+“Yes, sir, you are going to do as everybody else does.”
+
+“No, because my situation is not that of everybody else. I know what I
+am going to do.”
+
+Said the doctor: “Five times out of ten, in the chair where you are
+sitting, people talk like that, perfectly sincerely. Each one believes
+himself more unhappy than all the others; but after thinking it over,
+and listening to me, they understand that this disease is a companion
+with whom one can live. Just as in every household, one gets along at
+the cost of mutual concessions, that’s all. Come, sir, I tell you again,
+there is nothing about it that is not perfectly ordinary, perfectly
+natural, perfectly common; it is an accident which can happen to any
+one. It is a great mistake that people speak if this as the ‘French
+Disease,’ for there is none which is more universal. Under the picture
+of this disease, addressing myself to those who follow the oldest
+profession in the world, I would write the famous phrase: ‘Here is your
+master. It is, it was, or it must be.’”
+
+George was putting the prescription into the outside pocket of his
+coat, stupidly, as if he did not know what he was doing. “But, sir,” he
+exclaimed, “I should have been spared!”
+
+“Why?” inquired the other. “Because you are a man of position, because
+you are rich? Look around you, sir. See these works of art in my
+room. Do you imagine that such things have been presented to me by
+chimney-sweeps?”
+
+“But, Doctor,” cried George, with a moan, “I have never been a
+libertine. There was never any one, you understand me, never any one
+could have been more careful in his pleasures. If I were to tell you
+that in all my life I have only had two mistresses, what would you
+answer to that?”
+
+“I would answer, that a single one would have been sufficient to bring
+you to me.”
+
+“No, sir!” cried George. “It could not have been either of those women.”
+ He went on to tell the doctor about his first mistress, and then about
+Lizette. Finally he told about Henriette, how much he adored her. He
+could really use such a word--he loved her most tenderly. She was so
+good--and he had thought himself so lucky!
+
+As he went on, he could hardly keep from going to pieces. “I had
+everything,” he exclaimed, “everything a man needed! All who knew me
+envied me. And then I had to let those fellows drag me off to that
+miserable supper-party! And now here I am! My future is ruined, my whole
+existence poisoned! What is to become of me? Everybody will avoid me--I
+shall be a pariah, a leper!”
+
+He paused, and then in sudden wild grief exclaimed, “Come, now! Would
+it not be better that I should take myself out of the way? At least, I
+should not suffer any more. You see that there could not be any one
+more unhappy than myself--not any one, I tell you, sir, not any one!”
+ Completely overcome, he began to weep in his handkerchief.
+
+The doctor got up, and went to him. “You must be a man,” he said, “and
+not cry like a child.”
+
+“But sir,” cried the young man, with tears running down his cheeks,
+“if I had led a wild life, if I had passed my time in dissipation with
+chorus girls, then I could understand it. Then I would say that I had
+deserved it.”
+
+The doctor exclaimed with emphasis, “No, no! You would not say it.
+However, it is of no matter--go on.”
+
+“I tell you that I would say it. I am honest, and I would say that I
+had deserved it. But no, I have worked, I have been a regular grind. And
+now, when I think of the shame that is in store for me, the disgusting
+things, the frightful catastrophes to which I am condemned--”
+
+“What is all this you are telling me?” asked the doctor, laughing.
+
+“Oh, I know, I know!” cried the other, and repeated what his friend
+had told him about the man in a wheel-chair. “And they used to call me
+handsome Raoul! That was my name--handsome Raoul!”
+
+“Now, my dear sir,” said the doctor, cheerfully, “wipe your eyes one
+last time, blow your nose, put your handkerchief into your pocket, and
+hear me dry-eyed.”
+
+George obeyed mechanically. “But I give you fair warning,” he said, “you
+are wasting your time.”
+
+“I tell you--” began the other.
+
+“I know exactly what you are going to tell me!” cried George.
+
+“Well, in that case, there is nothing more for you to do here--run
+along.”
+
+“Since I am here,” said the patient submissively, “I will hear you.”
+
+“Very well, then. I tell you that if you have the will and the
+perseverance, none of the things you fear will happen to you.”
+
+“Of course, it is your duty to tell me that.”
+
+“I will tell you that there are one hundred thousand like you in
+Paris, alert, and seemingly well. Come, take what you were just
+saying--wheel-chairs. One doesn’t see so many of them.”
+
+“No, that’s true,” said George.
+
+“And besides,” added the doctor, “a good many people who ride in them
+are not there for the cause you think. There is no more reason why
+you should be the victim of a catastrophe than any of the one hundred
+thousand. The disease is serious, nothing more.”
+
+“You admit that it is a serious disease?” argued George.
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“One of the most serious?”
+
+“Yes, but you have the good fortune--”
+
+“The GOOD fortune?”
+
+“Relatively, if you please. You have the good fortune to be infected
+with one of the diseases over which we have the most certain control.”
+
+“Yes, yes,” exclaimed George, “but the remedies are worse than the
+disease.”
+
+“You deceive yourself,” replied the other.
+
+“You are trying to make me believe that I can be cured?”
+
+“You can be.”
+
+“And that I am not condemned?”
+
+“I swear it to you.”
+
+“You are not deceiving yourself, you are not deceiving me? Why, I was
+told--”
+
+The doctor laughed, contemptuously. “You were told, you were told! I’ll
+wager that you know the laws of the Chinese concerning party-walls.”
+
+“Yes, naturally,” said George. “But I don’t see what they have to do
+with it.”
+
+“Instead of teaching you such things,” was the reply, “it would have
+been a great deal better to have taught you about the nature and cause
+of diseases of this sort. Then you would have known how to avoid the
+contagion. Such knowledge should be spread abroad, for it is the
+most important knowledge in the world. It should be found in every
+newspaper.”
+
+This remark gave George something of a shock, for his father had owned
+a little paper in the provinces, and he had a sudden vision of the way
+subscribers would have fallen off, if he had printed even so much as the
+name of this vile disease.
+
+“And yet,” pursued the doctor, “you publish romances about adultery!”
+
+“Yes,” said George, “that’s what the readers want.”
+
+“They don’t want the truth about venereal diseases,” exclaimed the
+other. “If they knew the full truth, they would no longer think that
+adultery was romantic and interesting.”
+
+He went on to give his advice as to the means of avoiding such diseases.
+There was really but one rule. It was: To love but one woman, to take
+her as a virgin, and to love her so much that she would never deceive
+you. “Take that from me,” added the doctor, “and teach it to your son,
+when you have one.”
+
+George’s attention was caught by this last sentence.
+
+“You mean that I shall be able to have children?” he cried.
+
+“Certainly,” was the reply.
+
+“Healthy children?”
+
+“I repeat it to you; if you take care of yourself properly for a long
+time, conscientiously, you have little to fear.”
+
+“That’s certain?”
+
+“Ninety-nine times out of a hundred.”
+
+George felt as if he had suddenly emerged from a dungeon. “Why, then,”
+ he exclaimed, “I shall be able to marry!”
+
+“You will be able to marry,” was the reply.
+
+“You are not deceiving me? You would not give me that hope, you would
+not expose me? How soon will I be able to marry?”
+
+“In three or four years,” said the doctor.
+
+“What!” cried George in consternation. “In three or four years? Not
+before?”
+
+“Not before.”
+
+“How is that? Am I going to be sick all that time? Why, you told me just
+now--”
+
+Said the doctor: “The disease will no longer be dangerous to you,
+yourself--but you will be dangerous to others.”
+
+“But,” the young man cried, in despair, “I am to be married a month from
+now.”
+
+“That is impossible.”
+
+“But I cannot do any differently. The contract is ready! The banns have
+been published! I have given my word!”
+
+“Well, you are a great one!” the doctor laughed. “Just now you were
+looking for your revolver! Now you want to be married within the month.”
+
+“But, Doctor, it is necessary!”
+
+“But I forbid it.”
+
+“As soon as I knew that the disease is not what I imagined, and that I
+could be cured, naturally I didn’t want to commit suicide. And as soon
+as I make up my mind not to commit suicide, I have to take up my regular
+life. I have to keep my engagements; I have to get married.”
+
+“No,” said the doctor.
+
+“Yes, yes!” persisted George, with blind obstinacy. “Why, Doctor, if I
+didn’t marry it would be a disaster. You are talking about something
+you don’t understand. I, for my part--it is not that I am anxious to be
+married. As I told you, I had almost a second family. Lizette’s little
+brothers adored me. But it is my aunt, an old maid; and, also, my mother
+is crazy about the idea. If I were to back out now, she would die of
+chagrin. My aunt would disinherit me, and she is the one who has the
+family fortune. Then, too, there is my father-in-law, a regular dragoon
+for his principles--severe, violent. He never makes a joke of serious
+things, and I tell you it would cost me dear, terribly dear. And,
+besides, I have given my word.”
+
+“You must take back your word.”
+
+“You still insist?” exclaimed George, in despair. “But then, suppose
+that it were possible, how could I take back my signature which I put at
+the bottom of the deed? I have pledged myself to pay in two months for
+the attorney’s practice I have purchased!”
+
+“Sir,” said the doctor, “all these things--”
+
+“You are going to tell me that I was lacking in prudence, that I should
+never have disposed of my wife’s dowry until after the honeymoon!”
+
+“Sir,” said the doctor, again, “all these considerations are foreign to
+me. I am a physician, and nothing but a physician, and I can only
+tell you this: If you marry before three or four years, you will be a
+criminal.”
+
+George broke out with a wild exclamation. “No sir, you are not merely a
+physician! You are also a confessor! You are not merely a scientist; and
+it is not enough for you that you observe me as you would some lifeless
+thing in your laboratory, and say, ‘You have this; science says that;
+now go along with you.’ All my existence depends upon you. It is
+your duty to listen to me, because when you know everything you will
+understand me, and you will find some way to cure me within a month.”
+
+“But,” protested the doctor, “I wear myself out telling you that such
+means do not exist. I shall not be certain of your cure, as much as any
+one can be certain, in less than three or four years.”
+
+George was almost beside himself. “I tell you you must find some means!
+Listen to me, sir--if I don’t get married I don’t get the dowry! And
+will you tell me how I can pay the notes I have signed?”
+
+“Oh,” said the doctor, dryly, “if that is the question, it is very
+simple--I will give you a plan to get out of the affair. You will go
+and get acquainted with some rich man; you will do everything you can to
+gain his confidence; and when you have succeeded, you will plunder him.”
+
+George shook his head. “I am not in any mood for joking.”
+
+“I am not joking,” replied his adviser. “Rob that man, assassinate him
+even--that would be no worse crime than you would commit in taking a
+young girl in good health in order to get a portion of her dowry,
+when at the same time you would have to expose her to the frightful
+consequences of the disease which you would give her.”
+
+“Frightful consequences?” echoed George.
+
+“Consequences of which death would not be the most frightful.”
+
+“But, sir, you were saying to me just now--”
+
+“Just now I did not tell you everything. Even reduced, suppressed a
+little by our remedies, the disease remains mysterious, menacing, and
+in its sum, sufficiently grave. So it would be an infamy to expose your
+fiancee in order to avoid an inconvenience, however great that might
+be.”
+
+But George was still not to be convinced. Was it certain that this
+misfortune would befall Henriette, even with the best attention?
+
+Said the other: “I do not wish to lie to you. No, it is not absolutely
+certain, it is probable. And there is another truth which I wish to
+tell you now: our remedies are not infallible. In a certain number of
+cases--a very small number, scarcely five per cent--they have remained
+without effect. You might be one of those exceptions, your wife might be
+one. What then?”
+
+“I will employ a word you used just now, yourself. We should have to
+expect the worst catastrophes.”
+
+George sat in a state of complete despair.
+
+“Tell me what to do, then,” he said.
+
+“I can tell you only one thing: don’t marry. You have a most serious
+blemish. It is as if you owed a debt. Perhaps no one will ever come to
+claim it; on the other hand, perhaps a pitiless creditor will come all
+at once, presenting a brutal demand for immediate payment. Come now--you
+are a business man. Marriage is a contract; to marry without saying
+anything--that means to enter into a bargain by means of passive
+dissimulation. That’s the term, is it not? It is dishonesty, and it
+ought to come under the law.”
+
+George, being a lawyer, could appreciate the argument, and could think
+of nothing to say to it.
+
+“What shall I do?” he asked.
+
+The other answered, “Go to your father-in-law and tell him frankly the
+truth.”
+
+“But,” cried the young man, wildly, “there will be no question then of
+three or four years’ delay. He will refuse his consent altogether.”
+
+“If that is the case,” said the doctor, “don’t tell him anything.”
+
+“But I have to give him a reason, or I don’t know what he will do. He
+is the sort of man to give himself to the worst violence, and again my
+fiancee would be lost to me. Listen, doctor. From everything I have said
+to you, you may perhaps think I am a mercenary man. It is true that I
+want to get along in the world, that is only natural. But Henriette has
+such qualities; she is so much better than I, that I love her, really,
+as people love in novels. My greatest grief--it is not to give up the
+practice I have bought--although, indeed, it would be a bitter blow to
+me; my greatest grief would be to lose Henriette. If you could only see
+her, if you only knew her--then you would understand. I have her picture
+here--”
+
+The young fellow took out his card-case. And offered a photograph to the
+doctor, who gently refused it. The other blushed with embarrassment.
+
+“I beg your pardon,” he said, “I am ridiculous. That happens to me,
+sometimes. Only, put yourself in my place--I love her so!” His voice
+broke.
+
+“My dear boy,” said the doctor, feelingly, “that is exactly why you
+ought not to marry her.”
+
+“But,” he cried, “if I back out without saying anything they will guess
+the truth, and I shall be dishonored.”
+
+“One is not dishonored because one is ill.”
+
+“But with such a disease! People are so stupid. I myself, yesterday--I
+should have laughed at anyone who had got into such a plight; I should
+have avoided him, I should have despised him!” And suddenly George
+broke down again. “Oh!” he cried, “if I were the only one to suffer; but
+she--she is in love with me. I swear it to you! She is so good; and she
+will be so unhappy!”
+
+The doctor answered, “She would be unhappier later on.”
+
+“It will be a scandal!” George exclaimed.
+
+“You will avoid one far greater,” the other replied.
+
+Suddenly George set his lips with resolution. He rose from his seat. He
+took several twenty-franc pieces from his pocket and laid them quietly
+upon the doctor’s desk--paying the fee in cash, so that he would not
+have to give his name and address. He took up his gloves, his cane and
+his hat, and rose.
+
+“I will think it over,” he said. “I thank you, Doctor. I will come back
+next week as you have told me. That is--probably I will.”
+
+He was about to leave.
+
+The doctor rose, and he spoke in a voice of furious anger. “No,” he
+said, “I shan’t see you next week, and you won’t even think it over. You
+came here knowing what you had; you came to ask advice of me, with the
+intention of paying no heed to it, unless it conformed to your wishes.
+A superficial honesty has driven you to take that chance in order to
+satisfy your conscience. You wanted to have somebody upon whom you could
+put off, bye and bye, the consequences of an act whose culpability you
+understand! No, don’t protest! Many of those who come here think and act
+as you think, and as you wish to act; but the marriage made against
+my will has generally been the source of such calamities that now I am
+always afraid of not having been persuasive enough, and it even seems to
+me that I am a little to blame for these misfortunes. I should have been
+able to prevent them; they would not have happened if those who are the
+authors of them knew what I know and had seen what I have seen. Swear to
+me, sir, that you are going to break off that marriage!”
+
+George was greatly embarrassed, and unwilling to reply. “I cannot swear
+to you at all, Doctor; I can only tell you again that I will think it
+over.”
+
+“That WHAT over?”
+
+“What you have told me.”
+
+“What I have told you is true! You cannot bring any new objections; and
+I have answered those which you have presented to me; therefore, your
+mind ought to be made up.”
+
+Groping for a reply, George hesitated. He could not deny that he had
+made inquiry about these matters before he had come to the doctor. But
+he said that he was not al all certain that he had this disease. The
+doctor declared it, and perhaps it was true, but the most learned
+physicians were sometimes deceived.
+
+He remembered something he had read in one of the medical books. “Dr.
+Ricord maintains that after a certain period the disease is no longer
+contagious. He has proven his contentions by examples. Today you produce
+new examples to show that he is wrong! Now, I want to do what’s right,
+but surely I have the right to think it over. And when I think it
+over, I realize that all the evils with which you threaten me are only
+probable evils. In spite of your desire to terrify me, you have been
+forced to admit that possibly my marriage would not have any troublesome
+consequence for my wife.”
+
+The doctor found difficulty in restraining himself. But he said, “Go on.
+I will answer you afterwards.”
+
+And George blundered ahead in his desperation. “Your remedies are
+powerful, you tell me; and for the calamities of which you speak to
+befall me, I would have to be among the rare exceptions--also my
+wife would have to be among the number of those rare exceptions. If a
+mathematician were to apply the law of chance to these facts, the result
+of his operation would show but slight chance of a catastrophe, as
+compared with the absolute certainty of a series of misfortunes,
+sufferings, troubles, tears, and perhaps tragic accidents which
+the breaking of my engagement would cause. So I say that the
+mathematician--who is, even more than you, a man of science, a man of
+a more infallible science--the mathematician would conclude that wisdom
+was not with you doctors, but with me.”
+
+“You believe it, sir!” exclaimed the other. “But you deceive yourself.”
+ And he continued, driving home his point with a finger which seemed to
+George to pierce his very soul. “Twenty cases identical with your own
+have been patiently observed, from the beginning to the end. Nineteen
+times the woman was infected by her husband; you hear me, sir, nineteen
+times out of twenty! You believe that the disease is without danger, and
+you take to yourself the right to expose your wife to what you call the
+chance of your being one of those exceptions, for whom our remedies
+are without effect. Very well; it is necessary that you should know the
+disease which your wife, without being consulted, will run a chance of
+contracting. Take that book, sir; it is the work of my teacher. Read it
+yourself. Here, I have marked the passage.”
+
+He held out the open book; but George could not lift a hand to take it.
+
+“You do not wish to read it?” the other continued. “Listen to me.”
+ And in a voice trembling with passion, he read: “‘I have watched the
+spectacle of an unfortunate young woman, turned into a veritable monster
+by means of a syphilitic infection. Her face, or rather let me say
+what was left of her face, was nothing but a flat surface seamed with
+scars.’”
+
+George covered his face, exclaiming, “Enough, sir! Have mercy!”
+
+But the other cried, “No, no! I will go to the very end. I have a
+duty to perform, and I will not be stopped by the sensibility of your
+nerves.”
+
+He went on reading: “‘Of the upper lip not a trace was left; the ridge
+of the upper gums appeared perfectly bare.’” But then at the young man’s
+protests, his resolution failed him. “Come,” he said, “I will stop. I am
+sorry for you--you who accept for another person, for the woman you say
+you love, the chance of a disease which you cannot even endure to hear
+described. Now, from whom did that woman get syphilis? It is not I who
+am speaking, it is the book. ‘From a miserable scoundrel who was not
+afraid to enter into matrimony when he had a secondary eruption.’ All
+that was established later on--‘and who, moreover, had thought it best
+not to let his wife be treated for fear of awakening her suspicions!’”
+
+The doctor closed the book with a bang. “What that man has done, sir, is
+what you want to do.”
+
+George was edging toward the door; he could no longer look the doctor in
+the eye. “I should deserve all those epithets and still more brutal ones
+if I should marry, knowing that my marriage would cause such horrors.
+But that I do not believe. You and your teachers--you are specialists,
+and consequently you are driven to attribute everything to the disease
+you make the subject of your studies. A tragic case, an exceptional
+case, holds a kind of fascination for you; you think it can never be
+talked about enough.”
+
+“I have heard that argument before,” said the doctor, with an effort at
+patience.
+
+“Let me go on, I beg you,” pleaded George. “You have told me that out of
+every seven men there is one syphilitic. You have told me that there are
+one hundred thousand in Paris, coming and going, alert, and apparently
+well.”
+
+“It is true,” said the doctor, “that there are one hundred thousand
+who are actually at this moment not visibly under the influence of the
+disease. But many thousands have passed into our hospitals, victims of
+the most frightful ravages that our poor bodies can support. These--you
+do not see them, and they do not count for you. But again, if it
+concerned no one but yourself, you might be able to argue thus. What I
+declare to you, what I affirm with all the violence of my conviction,
+is that you have not the right to expose a human creature to such
+chances--rare, as I know, but terrible, as I know still better. What
+have you to answer to that?”
+
+“Nothing,” stammered George, brought to his knees at last. “You are
+right about that. I don’t know what to think.”
+
+“And in forbidding you marriage,” continued the doctor, “is it the same
+as if I forbade it forever? Is it the same as if I told you that you
+could never be cured? On the contrary, I hold out to you every hope; but
+I demand of you a delay of three or four years, because it will take me
+that time to find out if you are among the number of those unfortunate
+ones whom I pity with all my heart, for whom the disease is without
+mercy; because during that time you will be dangerous to your wife and
+to your children. The children I have not yet mentioned to you.”
+
+Here the doctor’s voice trembled slightly. He spoke with moving
+eloquence. “Come, sir, you are an honest man; you are too young for such
+things not to move you; you are not insensible to duty. It is impossible
+that I shan’t be able to find a way to your heart, that I shan’t be
+able to make you obey me. My emotion in speaking to you proves that I
+appreciate your suffering, that I suffer with you. It is in the name of
+my sincerity that I implore you. You have admitted it--that you have not
+the right to expose your wife to such miseries. But it is not only your
+wife that you strike; you may attack in her your own children. I exclude
+you for a moment from my thought--you and her. It is in the name of
+these innocents that I implore you; it is the future, it is the race
+that I defend. Listen to me, listen to me! Out of the twenty households
+of which I spoke, only fifteen had children; these fifteen had
+twenty-eight. Do you know how many out of these twenty-eight survived?
+Three, sir! Three out of twenty-eight! Syphilis is above everything a
+murderer of children. Herod reigns in France, and over all the earth,
+and begins each year his massacre of the innocents; and if it be not
+blasphemy against the sacredness of life, I say that the most happy are
+those who have disappeared. Visit our children’s hospitals! We know too
+well the child of syphilitic parents; the type is classical; the doctors
+can pick it out anywhere. Those little old creatures who have the
+appearance of having already lived, and who have kept the stigmata of
+all out infirmities, of all our decay. They are the victims of fathers
+who have married, being ignorant of what you know--things which I should
+like to go and cry out in the public places.”
+
+The doctor paused, and then in a solemn voice continued: “I have told
+you all, without exaggeration. Think it over. Consider the pros and
+cons; sum up the possible misfortunes and the certain miseries. But
+disregard yourself, and consider that there are in one side of the
+scales the misfortunes of others, and in the other your own. Take care
+that you are just.”
+
+George was at last overcome. “Very well,” he said, “I give way. I
+won’t get married. I will invent some excuse; I will get a delay of six
+months. More than that, I cannot do.”
+
+The doctor exclaimed, “I need three years--I need four years!”
+
+“No, Doctor!” persisted George. “You can cure me in less time than
+that.”
+
+The other answered, “No! No! No!”
+
+George caught him by the hand, imploringly. “Yes! Science in all
+powerful!”
+
+“Science is not God,” was the reply. “There are no longer any miracles.”
+
+“If only you wanted to do it!” cried the young man, hysterically. “You
+are a learned man; seek, invent, find something! Try some new plan with
+me; give me double the dose, ten times the does; make me suffer. I give
+myself up to you; I will endure everything--I swear it! There ought to
+be some way to cure me within six months. Listen to me! I tell you I
+can’t answer for myself with that delay. Come; it is in the name of my
+wife, in the name of my children, that I implore you. Do something for
+them!”
+
+The doctor had reached the limit of his patience. “Enough, sir!” he
+cried. “Enough!”
+
+But nothing could stop the wretched man. “On my knees!” he cried. “I
+put myself on my knees before you! Oh! If only you would do it! I would
+bless you; I would adore you, as one adores a god! All my gratitude, all
+my life--half my fortune! For mercy’s sake, Doctor, do something; invent
+something; make some discovery--have pity!”
+
+The doctor answered gravely, “Do you wish me to do more for you than for
+the others?”
+
+George answered, unblushingly, ‘answered, unblushingly, “Yes!” He was
+beside himself with terror and distress.
+
+The other’s reply was delivered in a solemn tone. “Understand, sir,
+for every one of out patients we do all that we can, whether it be the
+greatest personage, or the last comer to out hospital clinic. We have no
+secrets in reserve for those who are more fortunate, or less fortunate
+than the others, and who are in a hurry to be cured.”
+
+George gazed at him for a moment in bewilderment and despair, and then
+suddenly bowed his head. “Good-by, Doctor,” he answered.
+
+“Au revoir, sir,” the other corrected--with what proved to be prophetic
+understanding. For George was destined to see him again--even though he
+had made up his mind to the contrary!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+George Dupont had the most important decision of his life to make; but
+there was never very much doubt what his decision would be. One the one
+hand was the definite certainty that if he took the doctor’s advice, he
+would wreck his business prospects, and perhaps also lose the woman he
+loved. On the other hand were vague and uncertain possibilities which it
+was difficult for him to make real to himself. It was all very well to
+wait a while to be cured of the dread disease; but to wait three or four
+years--that was simply preposterous!
+
+He decided to consult another physician. He would find one this time who
+would not be so particular, who would be willing to take some trouble
+to cure him quickly. He began to notice the advertisements which
+were scattered over the pages of the newspapers he read. There were
+apparently plenty of doctors in Paris who could cure him, who were
+willing to guarantee to cure him. After much hesitation, he picked out
+one whose advertisement sounded the most convincing.
+
+The office was located in a cheap quarter. It was a dingy place, not
+encumbered with works of art, but with a few books covered with dust.
+The doctor himself was stout and greasy, and he rubbed his hands with
+anticipation at the sight of so prosperous-looking a patient. But he was
+evidently a man of experience, for he knew exactly what was the matter
+with George, almost without the formality of an examination. Yes,
+he could cure him, quickly, he said. There had recently been great
+discoveries made--new methods which had not reached the bulk of the
+profession. He laughed at the idea of three or four years. That was
+the way with those specialists! When one got forty francs for a
+consultation, naturally, one was glad to drag out the case. There were
+tricks in the medical trade, as in all others. A doctor had to live;
+when he had a big name, he had to live expensively.
+
+The new physician wrote out two prescriptions, and patted George on the
+shoulder as he went away. There was no need for him to worry; he would
+surely be well in three months. If he would put off his marriage for six
+months, he would be doing everything within reason. And meantime, there
+was no need for him to worry himself--things would come out all right.
+So George went away, feeling as if a mountain had been lifted from his
+shoulders.
+
+He went to see Henriette that same evening, to get the matter
+settled. “Henriette,” he said, “I have to tell you something very
+important--something rather painful. I hope you won’t let it disturb you
+too much.”
+
+She was gazing at him in alarm. “What is it?”
+
+“Why,” he said, blushing in spite of himself, and regretting that he had
+begun the matter so precipitately, “for some time I’ve not been feeling
+quite well. I’ve been having a slight cough. Have you noticed it?”
+
+“Why no!” exclaimed Henriette, anxiously.
+
+“Well, today I went to see a doctor, and he says that there is a
+possibility--you understand it is nothing very serious--but it might
+be--I might possibly have lung trouble.”
+
+“George!” cried the girl in horror.
+
+He put his hand upon hers. “Don’t be frightened,” he said. “It will be
+all right, only I have to take care of myself.” How very dear of her, he
+thought--to be so much worried!
+
+“George, you ought to go away to the country!” she cried. “You have
+been working too hard. I always told you that if you shut yourself up so
+much--”
+
+“I am going to take care of myself,” he said. “I realize that it is
+necessary. I shall be all right--the doctor assured me there was no
+doubt of it, so you are not to distress yourself. But meantime, here is
+the trouble: I don’t think it would be right for me to marry until I am
+perfectly well.”
+
+Henriette gave an exclamation of dismay.
+
+“I am sure we should put it off,” he went on, “it would be only fair to
+you.”
+
+“But, George!” she protested. “Surely it can’t be that serious!”
+
+“We ought to wait,” he said. “You ought not to take the chance of being
+married to a consumptive.”
+
+The other protested in consternation. He did not look like a
+consumptive; she did not believe that he WAS a consumptive. She was
+willing to take her chances. She loved him, and she was not afraid. But
+George insisted--he was sure that he ought not to marry for six months.
+
+“Did the doctor advise that?” asked Henriette.
+
+“No,” he replied, “but I made up my mind after talking to him that I
+must do the fair and honorable thing. I beg you to forgive me, and to
+believe that I know best.”
+
+George stood firmly by this position, and so in the end she had to give
+way. It did not seem quite modest in her to continue persisting.
+
+George volunteered to write a letter to her father; and he hoped this
+would settle the matter without further discussion. But in this he was
+disappointed. There had to be a long correspondence with long arguments
+and protestations from Henriette’s father and from his own mother.
+It seemed such a singular whim. Everybody persisted in diagnosing his
+symptoms, in questioning him about what the doctor had said, who the
+doctor was, how he had come to consult him--all of which, of course, was
+very embarrassing to George, who could not see why they had to make such
+a fuss. He took to cultivating a consumptive look, as well as he could
+imagine it; he took to coughing as he went about the house--and it was
+all he could do to keep from laughing, as he saw the look of dismay on
+his poor mother’s face. After all, however, he told himself that he
+was not deceiving her, for the disease he had was quite as serious as
+tuberculosis.
+
+It was very painful and very trying. But there was nothing that could be
+done about it; the marriage had been put off for six months, and in the
+meantime he and Henriette had to control their impatience and make the
+best of their situation. Six months was a long time; but what if it had
+been three or four years, as the other doctor had demanded? That would
+have been a veritable sentence of death.
+
+George, as we have seen, was conscientious, and regular and careful in
+his habits. He took the medicine which the new doctor prescribed
+for him; and day by day he watched, and to his great relief saw the
+troublesome symptoms gradually disappearing. He began to take heart,
+and to look forward to life with his former buoyancy. He had had a bad
+scare, but now everything was going to be all right.
+
+Three or four months passed, and the doctor told him he was cured. He
+really was cured, so far as he could see. He was sorry, now, that he
+had asked for so long a delay from Henriette; but the new date for the
+wedding had been announced, and it would be awkward to change it again.
+George told himself that he was being “extra careful,” and he was repaid
+for the inconvenience by the feeling of virtue derived from the delay.
+He was relieved that he did not have to cough any more, or to invent
+any more tales of his interviews with the imaginary lung-specialist.
+Sometimes he had guilty feelings because of all the lying he had had to
+do; but he told himself that it was for Henriette’s sake. She loved him
+as much as he loved her. She would have suffered needless agonies had
+she known the truth; she would never have got over it--so it would have
+been a crime to tell her.
+
+He really loved her devotedly, thoroughly. From the beginning he had
+thought as much of her mental sufferings as he had of any physical harm
+that the dread disease might do to him. How could he possibly persuade
+himself to give her up, when he knew that the separation would break her
+heart and ruin her whole life? No; obviously, in such a dilemma, it was
+his duty to use his own best judgment, and get himself cured as quickly
+as possible. After that he would be true to her, he would take no more
+chances of a loathsome disease.
+
+The secret he was hiding made him feel humble--made him unusually gentle
+in his attitude towards the girl. He was a perfect lover, and she
+was ravished with happiness. She thought that all his sufferings were
+because of his love for her, and the delay which he had imposed out of
+his excess of conscientiousness. So she loved him more and more, and
+never was there a happier bride than Henriette Loches, when at last the
+great day arrived.
+
+They went to the Riveria for their honeymoon, and then returned to live
+in the home which had belonged to George’s father. The investment in
+the notary’s practice had proven a good one, and so life held out every
+promise for the young couple. They were divinely happy.
+
+After a while, the bride communicated to her husband the tidings that
+she was expecting a child. Then it seemed to George that the cup of his
+earthly bliss was full. His ailment had slipped far into the background
+of his thoughts, like an evil dream which he had forgotten. He put away
+the medicines in the bottom of his trunk and dismissed the whole matter
+from his mind. Henriette was well--a very picture of health, as every
+one agreed. The doctor had never seen a more promising young mother, he
+declared, and Madame Dupont, the elder, bloomed with fresh life and joy
+as she attended her daughter-in-law.
+
+Henriette went for the summer to her father’s place in the provinces,
+which she and George had visited before their marriage. They drove out
+one day to the farm where they had stopped. The farmer’s wife had a
+week-old baby, the sight of which made Henriette’s heart leap with
+delight. He was such a very healthy baby that George conceived the idea
+that this would be the woman to nurse his own child, in case Henriette
+herself should not be able to do it.
+
+They came back to the city, and there the baby was born. As George paced
+the floor, waiting for the news, the memory of his evil dreams came back
+to him. He remembered all the dreadful monstrosities of which he had
+read--infants that were born of syphilitic parents. His heart stood
+still when the nurse came into the room to tell him the tidings.
+
+But it was all right; of course it was all right! He had been a fool,
+he told himself, as he stood in the darkened room and gazed at the
+wonderful little mite of life which was the fruit of his love. It was a
+perfect child, the doctor said--a little small, to be sure, but that was
+a defect which would soon be remedied. George kneeled by the bedside and
+kissed the hand of his wife, and went out of the room feeling as if he
+had escaped from a tomb.
+
+All went well, and after a couple of weeks Henriette was about the house
+again, laughing all day and singing with joy. But the baby did not gain
+quite as rapidly as the doctor had hoped, and it was decided that the
+country air would be better for her. So George and his mother paid a
+visit to the farm in the country, and arranged that the country woman
+should put her own child to nurse elsewhere and should become the
+foster-mother of little Gervaise.
+
+George paid a good price for the service, far more than would have been
+necessary, for the simple country woman was delighted with the idea of
+taking care of the grandchild of the deputy of her district. George came
+home and told his wife about this and had a merry time as he pictured
+the woman boasting about it to the travelers who stopped at her door.
+“Yes, ma’am, a great piece of luck I’ve got, ma’am. I’ve got the
+daughter of the daughter of our deputy--at your service ma’am. My!
+But she is as fat as out little calf--and so clever! She understands
+everything. A great piece of luck for me, ma’am. She’s the daughter
+of the daughter of our deputy!” Henriette was vastly entertained,
+discovering in her husband a new talent, that of an actor.
+
+As for George’s mother, she was hardly to be persuaded from staying in
+the country with the child. She went twice a week, to make sure that all
+went well. Henriette and she lived with the child’s picture before them;
+they spent their time sewing on caps and underwear--all covered with
+laces and frills and pink and blue ribbons. Every day, when George
+came home from his work, he found some new article completed, and was
+ravished by the scent of some new kind of sachet powder. What a lucky
+man he was!
+
+You would think he must have been the happiest man in the whole city
+of Paris. But George, alas, had to pay the penalty for his early sins.
+There was, for instance, the deception he had practiced upon his friend,
+away back in the early days. Now he had friends of his own, and he could
+not keep these friends from visiting him; and so he was unquiet with the
+fear that some one of them might play upon him the same vile trick. Even
+in the midst of his radiant happiness, when he knew that Henriette was
+hanging upon his every word, trembling with delight when she heard his
+latchkey in the door--still he could not drive away the horrible thought
+that perhaps all this might be deception.
+
+There was his friend, Gustave, for example. He had been a friend of
+Henriette’s before her marriage; he had even been in love with her at
+one time. And now he came sometimes to the house--once or twice when
+George was away! What did that mean? George wondered. He brooded over
+it all day, but dared not drop any hint to Henriette. But he took to
+setting little traps to catch her; for instance, he would call her up on
+the telephone, disguising his voice. “Hello! Hello! Is that you, Madame
+Dupont?” And when she answered, “It is I, sir,” all unsuspecting, he
+would inquire, “Is George there?”
+
+“No, sir,” she replied. “Who is this speaking?”
+
+He answered, “It is I, Gustave. How are you this morning?” He wanted to
+see what she would answer. Would she perhaps say, “Very well, Gustave.
+How are you?”--in a tone which would betray too great intimacy!
+
+But Henriette was a sharp young person. The tone did not sound like
+Gustave’s. She asked in bewilderment, “What?” and then again, “What?”
+
+So, at last, George, afraid that his trick might be suspected, had to
+burst out laughing, and turn it into a joke. But when he came home and
+teased his wife about it, the laugh was not all on his side. Henriette
+had guessed the real meaning of his joke! She did not really mind--she
+took his jealousy as a sign of love, and was pleased with it. It is
+not until a third party come upon the scene that jealousy begins to be
+annoying.
+
+So she had a merry time teasing George. “You are a great fellow!
+You have no idea how well I understand you--and after only a year of
+marriage!”
+
+“You know me?” said the husband, curiously. (It is always so fascinating
+when anybody thinks she know us better than we know ourselves!) “Tell
+me, what do you think about me?”
+
+“You are restless,” said Henriette. “You are suspicious. You pass your
+time putting flies in your milk, and inventing wise schemes to get them
+out.”
+
+“Oh, you think that, do you?” said George, pleased to be talked about.
+
+“I am not annoyed,” she answered. “You have always been that way--and I
+know that it’s because at bottom you are timid and disposed to suffer.
+And then, too, perhaps you have reasons for not having confidence in a
+wife’s intimate friends--lady-killer that you are!”
+
+George found this rather embarrassing; but he dared not show it, so he
+laughed gayly. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said--“upon my word I
+don’t. But it is a trick I would not advise everybody to try.”
+
+There were other embarrassing moments, caused by George’s having things
+to conceal. There was, for instance, the matter of the six months’ delay
+in the marriage--about which Henriette would never stop talking. She
+begrudged the time, because she had got the idea that little Gervaise
+was six months younger than she otherwise would have been. “That shows
+your timidity again,” she would say. “The idea of your having imagined
+yourself a consumptive!”
+
+Poor George had to defend himself. “I didn’t tell you half the truth,
+because I was afraid of upsetting you. It seemed I had the beginning of
+chronic bronchitis. I felt it quite keenly whenever I took a breath, a
+deep breath--look, like this. Yes--I felt--here and there, on each side
+of the chest, a heaviness--a difficulty--”
+
+“The idea of taking six months to cure you of a thing like that!”
+ exclaimed Henriette. “And making our baby six months younger than she
+ought to be!”
+
+“But,” laughed George, “that means that we shall have her so much the
+longer! She will get married six months later!”
+
+“Oh, dear me,” responded the other, “let us not talk about such things!
+I am already worried, thinking she will get married some day.”
+
+“For my part,” said George, “I see myself mounting with her on my arm
+the staircase of the Madeleine.”
+
+“Why the Madeleine?” exclaimed his wife. “Such a very magnificent
+church!”
+
+“I don’t know--I see her under her white veil, and myself all dressed
+up, and with an order.”
+
+“With an order!” laughed Henriette. “What do you expect to do to win an
+order?”
+
+“I don’t know that--but I see myself with it. Explain it as you will, I
+see myself with an order. I see it all, exactly as if I were there--the
+Swiss guard with his white stockings and the halbard, and the little
+milliner’s assistants and the scullion lined up staring.”
+
+“It is far off--all that,” said Henriette. “I don’t like to talk of it.
+I prefer her as a baby. I want her to grow up--but then I change my
+mind and think I don’t. I know your mother doesn’t. Do you know, I don’t
+believe she ever thinks about anything but her little Gervaise.”
+
+“I believe you,” said the father. “The child can certainly boast of
+having a grandmother who loves her.”
+
+“Also, I adore your mother,” declared Henriette. “She makes me forget my
+misfortune in not having my own mother. She is so good!”
+
+“We are all like that in our family,” put in George.
+
+“Really,” laughed the wife. “Well, anyhow--the last time that we went
+down in the country with her--you had gone out, I don’t know where you
+had gone--”
+
+“To see the sixteenth-century chest,” suggested the other.
+
+“Oh, yes,” laughed Henriette; “your famous chest!” (You must excuse this
+little family chatter of theirs--they were so much in love with each
+other!)
+
+“Don’t let’s talk about that,” objected George. “You were saying--?”
+
+“You were not there. The nurse was out at mass, I think--”
+
+“Or at the wine merchant’s! Go on, go on.”
+
+“Well, I was in the little room, and mother dear thought she was all
+alone with Gervaise. I was listening; she was talking to the baby--all
+sorts of nonsense, pretty little words--stupid, if you like, but tender.
+I wanted to laugh, and at the same time I wanted to weep.”
+
+“Perhaps she called her ‘my dear little Savior’?”
+
+“Exactly! Did you hear her?”
+
+“No--but that is what she used to call me when I was little.”
+
+“It was that day she swore that the little one had recognized her, and
+laughed!”
+
+“Oh, yes!”
+
+“And then another time, when I went into her room--mother’s room--she
+didn’t hear me because the door was open, but I saw her. She was in
+ecstasy before the little boots which the baby wore at baptism--you
+know?”
+
+“Yes, yes.”
+
+“Listen, then. She had taken them and she was embracing them!”
+
+“And what did you say then?”
+
+“Nothing; I stole out very softly, and I sent across the threshold a
+great kiss to the dear grandmother!”
+
+Henriette sat for a moment in thought. “It didn’t take her very long,”
+ she remarked, “today when she got the letter from the nurse. I imagine
+she caught the eight-fifty-nine train!”
+
+“Any yet,” laughed George, “it was really nothing at all.”
+
+“Oh no,” said his wife. “Yet after all, perhaps she was right--and
+perhaps I ought to have gone with her.”
+
+“How charming you are, my poor Henriette! You believe everything you are
+told. I, for my part, divined right away the truth. The nurse was simply
+playing a game on us; she wanted a raise. Will you bet? Come, I’ll bet
+you something. What would you like to bet? You don’t want to? Come, I’ll
+bet you a lovely necklace--you know, with a big pearl.”
+
+“No,” said Henriette, who had suddenly lost her mood of gayety. “I
+should be too much afraid of winning.”
+
+“Stop!” laughed her husband. “Don’t you believe I love her as much as
+you love her--my little duck? Do you know how old she is? I mean her
+EXACT age?”
+
+Henriette sat knitting her brows, trying to figure.
+
+“Ah!” he exploded. “You see you don’t know! She is ninety-one days and
+eight hours! Ha, ha! Imagine when she will be able to walk all alone.
+Then we will take her back with us; we must wait at least six months.”
+ Then, too late, poor George realized that he had spoken the fatal phrase
+again.
+
+“If only you hadn’t put off our marriage, she would be able to walk
+now,” said Henriette.
+
+He rose suddenly. “Come,” he said, “didn’t you say you had to dress and
+pay some calls?”
+
+Henriette laughed, but took the hint.
+
+“Run along, little wife,” he said. “I have a lot of work to do in the
+meantime. You won’t be down-stairs before I shall have my nose buried in
+my papers. Bye-bye.”
+
+“Bye-bye,” said Henriette. But they paused to exchange a dozen or so
+kisses before she went away to dress.
+
+Then George lighted a cigarette and stretched himself out in the big
+armchair. He seemed restless; he seemed to be disturbed about something.
+Could it be that he had not been so much at ease as he had pretended to
+be, since the letter had come from the baby’s nurse? Madame Dupont had
+gone by the earliest train that morning. She had promised to telegraph
+at once--but she had not done so, and now it was late afternoon.
+
+George got up and wandered about. He looked at himself in the glass for
+a moment; then he went back to the chair and pulled up another to put
+his geet upon. He puffed away at his cigarette until he was calmer. But
+then suddenly he heard the rustle of a dress behind him, and glanced
+about, and started up with an exclamation, “Mother!”
+
+Madame Dupont stood in the doorway. She did not speak. Her veil was
+thrown back and George noted instantly the look of agitation upon her
+countenance.
+
+“What’s the matter?” he cried. “We didn’t get any telegram from you; we
+were not expecting you till tomorrow.”
+
+Still his mother did not speak.
+
+“Henriette was just going out,” he exclaimed nervously; “I had better
+call her.”
+
+“No!” said his mother quickly. Her voice was low and trembling. “I did
+not want Henriette to be here when I arrived.”
+
+“But what’s the matter?” cried George.
+
+Again there was a silence before the reply came. He read something
+terrible in the mother’s manner, and he found himself trembling
+violently.
+
+“I have brought back the child and the nurse,” said Madame Dupont.
+
+“What! Is the little one sick?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“What’s the matter with her?”
+
+“Nothing dangerous--for the moment, at least.”
+
+“We must send and get the doctor!” cried George.
+
+“I have just come from the doctor’s,” was the reply. “He said it was
+necessary to take our child from the nurse and bring her up on the
+bottle.”
+
+Again there was a pause. George could hardly bring himself to ask
+the next question. Try as he would, he could not keep his voice from
+weakening. “Well, now, what is her trouble?”
+
+The mother did not answer. She stood staring before her. At last she
+said, faintly, “I don’t know.”
+
+“You didn’t ask?”
+
+“I asked. But it was not to our own doctor that I went.”
+
+“Ah!” whispered George. For nearly a minute neither one of them spoke.
+“Why?” he inquired at last.
+
+“Because--he--the nurse’s doctor--had frightened me so--”
+
+“Truly?”
+
+“Yes. It is a disease--” again she stopped.
+
+George cried, in a voice of agony, “and then?”
+
+“Then I asked him if the matter was so grave that I could not be
+satisfied with our ordinary doctor.”
+
+“And what did he answer?”
+
+“He said that if we had the means it would really be better to consult a
+specialist.”
+
+George looked at his mother again. He was able to do it, because she
+was not looking at him. He clenched his hands and got himself together.
+“And--where did he send you?”
+
+His mother fumbled in her hand bag and drew out a visiting card. “Here,”
+ she said.
+
+And George looked at the card. It was all he could do to keep himself
+from tottering. It was the card of the doctor whom he had first
+consulted about his trouble! The specialist in venereal diseases!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+It was all George could do to control his voice. “You--you went to see
+him?” he stammered.
+
+“Yes,” said his mother. “You know him?”
+
+“No, no,” he answered. “Or--that is--I have met him, I think. I don’t
+know.” And then to himself, “My God!”
+
+There was a silence. “He is coming to talk to you,” said the mother, at
+last.
+
+George was hardly able to speak. “Then he is very much disturbed?”
+
+“No, but he wants to talk to you.”
+
+“To me?”
+
+“Yes. When the doctor saw the nurse, he said, ‘Madame, it is impossible
+for me to continue to attend this child unless I have had this very day
+a conversation with the father.’ So I said ‘Very well,’ and he said he
+would come at once.”
+
+George turned away, and put his hands to his forehead. “My poor little
+daughter!” he whispered to himself.
+
+“Yes,” said the mother, her voice breaking, “she is, indeed, a poor
+little daughter!”
+
+A silence fell; for what could words avail in such a situation? Hearing
+the door open, Madame Dupont started, for her nerves were all a-quiver
+with the strain she had been under. A servant came in and spoke to her,
+and she said to George, “It is the doctor. If you need me, I shall be in
+the next room.”
+
+Her son stood trembling, as if he were waiting the approach of an
+executioner. The other came into the room without seeing him and he
+stood for a minute, clasping and unclasping his hands, almost overcome
+with emotion. Then he said, “Good-day, doctor.” As the man stared at
+him, surprised and puzzled, he added, “You don’t recognize me?”
+
+The doctor looked again, more closely. George was expecting him to break
+out in rage; but instead his voice fell low. “You!” he exclaimed. “It is
+you!”
+
+At last, in a voice of discouragement than of anger, he went on, “You
+got married, and you have a child! After all that I told you! You are a
+wretch!”
+
+“Sir,” cried George, “let me explain to you!”
+
+“Not a word!” exclaimed the other. “There can be no explanation for what
+you have done.”
+
+A silence followed. The young man did not know what to say. Finally,
+stretching out his arms, he pleaded, “You will take care of my little
+daughter all the same, will you not?”
+
+The other turned away with disgust. “Imbecile!” he said.
+
+George did not hear the word. “I was able to wait only six months,” he
+murmured.
+
+The doctor answered in a voice of cold self-repression, “That is enough,
+sir! All that does not concern me. I have done wrong even to let you see
+my indignation. I should have left you to judge yourself. I have nothing
+to do here but with the present and with the future--with the infant and
+with the nurse.”
+
+“She isn’t in danger?” cried George.
+
+“The nurse is in danger of being contaminated.”
+
+But George had not been thinking about the nurse. “I mean my child,” he
+said.
+
+“Just at present the symptoms are not disturbing.”
+
+George waited; after a while he began, “You were saying about the nurse.
+Will you consent that I call my mother? She knows better than I.”
+
+“As you wish,” was the reply.
+
+The young man started to the door, but came back, in terrible distress.
+“I have one prayer to offer you sir; arrange it so that my wife--so that
+no one will know. If my wife learned that it is I who am the cause--! It
+is for her that I implore you! She--she isn’t to blame.”
+
+Said the doctor: “I will do everything in my power that she may be kept
+ignorant of the true nature of the disease.”
+
+“Oh, how I thank you!” murmured George. “How I thank you!”
+
+“Do not thank me; it is for her, and not for you, that I will consent to
+lie.”
+
+“And my mother?”
+
+“Your mother knows the truth.”
+
+“But--”
+
+“I pray you, sir--we have enough to talk about, and very serious
+matters.”
+
+So George went to the door and called his mother. She entered and
+greeted the doctor, holding herself erect, and striving to keep the
+signs of grief and terror from her face. She signed to the doctor to
+take a seat, and then seated herself by a little table near him.
+
+“Madame Dupont,” he began, “I have prescribed a course of treatment for
+the child. I hope to be able to improve its condition, and to prevent
+any new developments. But my duty and yours does not stop there; if
+there is still time, it is necessary to protect the health of the
+nurse.”
+
+“Tell us what it is necessary to do, Doctor?” said she.
+
+“The woman must stop nursing the child.”
+
+“You mean we have to change the nurse?”
+
+“Madame, the child can no longer be brought up at the breast, either by
+that nurse or by any other nurse.”
+
+“But why, sir?”
+
+“Because the child would give her disease to the woman who gave her
+milk.”
+
+“But, Doctor, if we put her on the bottle--our little one--she will
+die!”
+
+And suddenly George burst out into sobs. “Oh, my poor little daughter!
+My God, my God!”
+
+Said the doctor, “If the feeding is well attended to, with sterilized
+milk--”
+
+“That can do very well for healthy infants,” broke in Madame Dupont.
+“But at the age of three months one cannot take from the breast a baby
+like ours, frail and ill. More than any other such an infant has need of
+a nurse--is that not true?”
+
+“Yes,” the doctor admitted, “that is true. But--”
+
+“In that case, between the life of the child, and the health of the
+nurse, you understand perfectly well that my choice is made.”
+
+Between her words the doctor heard the sobbing of George, whose head was
+buried in his arms. “Madame,” he said, “your love for that baby has just
+caused you to utter something ferocious! It is not for you to choose. It
+is not for you to choose. I forbid the nursing. The health of that woman
+does not belong to you.”
+
+“No,” cried the grandmother, wildly, “nor does the health of out child
+belong to you! If there is a hope of saving it, that hope is in giving
+it more care than any other child; and you would wish that I put it
+upon a mode of nourishment which the doctors condemn, even for vigorous
+infants! You expect that I will let myself be taken in like that? I
+answer you: she shall have the milk which she needs, my poor little one!
+If there was a single thing that one could do to save her--I should be
+a criminal to neglect it!” And Madame Dupont broke out, with furious
+scorn, “The nurse! The nurse! We shall know how to do our duty--we
+shall take care of her, repay her. But our child before all! No sir,
+no! Everything that can be done to save our baby I shall do, let it cost
+what it will. To do what you say--you don’t realize it--it would be as
+if I should kill the child!” In the end the agonized woman burst into
+tears. “Oh, my poor little angel! My little savior!”
+
+George had never ceased sobbing while his mother spoke; at these last
+words his sobs became loud cries. He struck the floor with his foot, he
+tore his hair, as if he were suffering from violent physical pain. “Oh,
+oh, oh!” he cried. “My little child! My little child!” And then, in a
+horrified whisper to himself, “I am a wretch! A criminal!”
+
+“Madame,” said the doctor, “you must calm yourself; you must both calm
+yourselves. You will not help out the situation by lamentations. You
+must learn to take it with calmness.”
+
+Madame Dupont set her lips together, and with a painful effort recovered
+her self-control. “You are right, sir,” she said, in a low voice. “I ask
+your pardon; but if you only knew what that child means to me! I lost
+one at that age. I am an old woman, I am a widow--I had hardly hoped to
+live long enough to be a grandmother. But, as you say--we must be calm.”
+ She turned to the young man, “Calm yourself, my son. It is a poor way to
+show our love for the child, to abandon ourselves to tears. Let us talk,
+Doctor, and seriously--coldly. But I declare to you that nothing will
+ever induce me to put the child on the bottle, when I know that it might
+kill her. That is all I can say.”
+
+The doctor replied: “This isn’t the first time that I find myself in
+the present situation. Madame, I declare to you that always--ALWAYS,
+you understand--persons who have rejected my advice have had reason to
+repent it cruelly.”
+
+“The only thing of which I should repent--” began the other.
+
+“You simply do not know,” interrupted the doctor, “what such a nurse is
+capable of. You cannot imagine what bitterness--legitimate
+bitterness, you understand--joined to the rapacity, the cupidity, the
+mischief-making impulse--might inspire these people to do. For them the
+BOURGEOIS is always somewhat of an enemy; and when they find themselves
+in position to avenge their inferiority, they are ferocious.”
+
+“But what could the woman do?”
+
+“What could she do? She could bring legal proceedings against you.”
+
+“But she is much too stupid to have that idea.”
+
+“Others will put it into her mind.”
+
+“She is too poor to pay the preliminary expenses.”
+
+“And do you propose then to profit by her ignorance and stupidity?
+Besides, she could obtain judicial assistance.”
+
+“Why, surely,” exclaimed Madame Dupont, “such a thing was never heard
+of! Do you mean that?”
+
+“I know a dozen prosecutions of that sort; and always when there has
+been certainty, the parents have lost their case.”
+
+“But surely, Doctor, you must be mistaken! Not in a case like ours--not
+when it is a question of saving the life of a poor little innocent!”
+
+“Oftentimes exactly such facts have been presented.”
+
+Here George broke in. “I can give you the dates of the decisions.” He
+rose from his chair, glad of an opportunity to be useful. “I have
+the books,” he said, and took one from the case and brought it to the
+doctor.
+
+“All of that is no use--” interposed the mother.
+
+But the doctor said to George, “You will be able to convince yourself.
+The parents have been forced once or twice to pay the nurse a regular
+income, and at other times they have had to pay her an indemnity, of
+which the figure has varied between three and eight thousand francs.”
+
+Madame Dupont was ready with a reply to this. “Never fear, sir! If there
+should be a suit, we should have a good lawyer. We shall be able to pay
+and choose the best--and he would demand, without doubt, which of the
+two, the nurse or the child, has given the disease to the other.”
+
+The doctor was staring at her in horror. “Do you not perceive that would
+be a monstrous thing to do?”
+
+“Oh, I would not have to say it,” was the reply. “The lawyer would see
+to it--is not that his profession? My point is this: by one means or
+another he would make us win our case.”
+
+“And the scandal that would result,” replied the other. “Have you
+thought of that?”
+
+Here George, who had been looking over his law-books, broke in. “Doctor,
+permit me to give you a little information. In cases of this sort, the
+names are never printed.”
+
+“Yes, but they are spoken at the hearings.”
+
+“That’s true.”
+
+“And are you certain that there will not be any newspaper to print the
+judgment?”
+
+“What won’t they stoop to,” exclaimed Madame Dupont--“those filthy
+journals!”
+
+“Ah,” said the other, “and see what a scandal? What a shame it would be
+to you!”
+
+“The doctor is right, mother,” exclaimed the young man.
+
+But Madame Dupont was not yet convinced. “We will prevent the woman from
+taking any steps; we will give her what she demands from us.”
+
+“But then,” said the other, “you will give yourselves up to the risk of
+blackmail. I know a family which has been thus held up for over twelve
+years.”
+
+“If you will permit me, Doctor,” said George, timidly, “she could be
+made to sign a receipt.”
+
+“For payment in full?” asked the doctor, scornfully.
+
+“Even so.”
+
+“And then,” added his mother, “she would be more than delighted to go
+back to her country with a full purse. She would be able to buy a little
+house and a bit of ground--in that country one doesn’t need so much in
+order to live.”
+
+At this moment there was a tap upon the door, and the nurse entered. She
+was a country woman, robust, rosy-cheeked, fairly bursting with health.
+When she spoke one got the impression that her voice was more than she
+could contain. It did not belong in a drawing-room, but under the open
+sky of her country home. “Sir,” she said, addressing the doctor, “the
+baby is awake.”
+
+“I will go and see her,” was the reply; and then to Madame Dupont, “We
+will take up this conversation later on.”
+
+“Certainly,” said the mother. “Will you have need of the nurse?”
+
+“No, Madame,” the doctor answered.
+
+“Nurse,” said the mother, “sit down and rest. Wait a minute, I wish to
+speak to you.” As the doctor went out, she took her son to one side and
+whispered to him, “I know the way to arrange everything. If we let
+her know what is the matter, and if she accepts, the doctor will have
+nothing more to say. Isn’t that so?”
+
+“Obviously,” replied the son.
+
+“I am going to promise that we will give her two thousand francs when
+she goes away, if she will consent to continue nursing the child.”
+
+“Two thousand francs?” said the other. “Is that enough?”
+
+“I will see,” was the reply. “If she hesitates, I will go further. Let
+me attend to it.”
+
+George nodded his assent, and Madame Dupont returned to the nurse. “You
+know,” she said, “that our child is a little sick?”
+
+The other looked at her in surprise. “Why no, ma’am!”
+
+“Yes,” said the grandmother.
+
+“But, ma’am, I have taken the best of care of her; I have always kept
+her proper.”
+
+“I am not saying anything to the contrary,” said Madame Dupont, “but the
+child is sick, the doctors have said it.”
+
+The nurse was not to be persuaded; she thought they were getting ready
+to scold her. “Humph,” she said, “that’s a fine thing--the doctors! If
+they couldn’t always find something wrong you’d say they didn’t know
+their business.”
+
+“But our doctor is a great doctor; and you have seen yourself that our
+child has some little pimples.”
+
+“Ah, ma’am,” said the nurse, “that’s the heat--it’s nothing but the heat
+of the blood breaking out. You don’t need to bother yourself; I tell you
+it’s only the child’s blood. It’s not my fault; I swear to you that she
+had not lacked anything, and that I have always kept her proper.”
+
+“I am not reproaching you--”
+
+“What is there to reproach me for? Oh, what bad luck! She’s tiny--the
+little one--she’s a bit feeble; but Lord save us, she’s a city child!
+And she’s getting along all right, I tell you.”
+
+“No,” persisted Madame Dupont, “I tell you--she has got a cold in her
+head, and she has an eruption at the back of the throat.”
+
+“Well,” cried the nurse, angrily, “if she has, it’s because the doctor
+scratched her with that spoon he put into her mouth wrong end first! A
+cold in the head? Yes, that’s true; but if she has caught cold, I can’t
+say when, I don’t know anything about it--nothing, nothing at all. I
+have always kept her well covered; she’s always had as much as three
+covers on her. The truth is, it was when you came, the time before last;
+you were all the time insisting upon opening the windows in the house!”
+
+“But once more I tell you,” cried Madame Dupont, “we are not putting any
+blame on you.”
+
+“Yes,” cried the woman, more vehemently. “I know what that kind of talk
+means. It’s no use--when you’re a poor country woman.”
+
+“What are you imagining now?” demanded the other.
+
+“Oh, that’s all right. It’s no use when you’re a poor country woman.”
+
+“I repeat to you once more,” cried Madame Dupont, with difficulty
+controlling her impatience, “we have nothing whatever to blame you for.”
+
+But the nurse began to weep. “If I had known that anything like this was
+coming to me--”
+
+“We have nothing to blame you for,” declared the other. “We only wish to
+warn you that you might possibly catch the disease of the child.”
+
+The woman pouted. “A cold in the head!” she exclaimed. “Well, if I catch
+it, it won’t be the first time. I know how to blow my nose.”
+
+“But you might also get the pimples.”
+
+At this the nurse burst into laughter so loud that the bric-a-brac
+rattled. “Oh, oh, oh! Dear lady, let me tell you, we ain’t city folks,
+we ain’t; we don’t have such soft skins. What sort of talk is that?
+Pimples--what difference would that make to poor folks like us? We don’t
+have a white complexion like the ladies of Paris. We are out all day in
+the fields, in the sun and the rain, instead of rubbing cold cream
+on our muzzles! No offense, ma’am--but I say if you’re looking for an
+excuse to get rid of me, you must get a better one than that.”
+
+“Excuse!” exclaimed the other. “What in the world do you mean?”
+
+“Oh, I know!” said the nurse, nodding her head.
+
+“But speak!”
+
+“It’s no use, when you’re only a poor country woman.”
+
+“I don’t understand you! I swear to you that I don’t understand you!”
+
+“Well,” sneered the other, “I understand.”
+
+“But then--explain yourself.”
+
+“No, I don’t want to say it.”
+
+“But you must; I wish it.”
+
+“Well--”
+
+“Go ahead.”
+
+“I’m only a poor country woman, but I am no more stupid than the others,
+for all that. I know perfectly well what your tricks mean. Mr. George
+here has been grumbling because you promised me thirty francs more a
+month, if I came to Paris.” And then, turning upon the other, she went
+on--“But, sir, isn’t it only natural? Don’t I have to put my own child
+away somewheres else? And then, can my husband live on his appetite?
+We’re nothing but poor country people, we are.”
+
+“You are making a mistake, nurse,” broke in George. “It is nothing at
+all of that sort; mother is quite right. I am so far from wanting
+to reproach you, that, on the contrary, I think she had not promised
+enough, and I want to make you, for my part, another promise. When you
+go away, when baby is old enough to be weaned, by way of thanking you,
+we wish to give you--”
+
+Madame Dupont broke in, hurriedly, “We wish to give you,--over and above
+your wages, you understand--we wish to give you five hundred francs, and
+perhaps a thousand, if the little one is altogether in good health. You
+understand?”
+
+The nurse stared at her, stupefied. “You will give me five hundred
+francs--for myself?” She sought to comprehend the words. “But that was
+not agreed, you don’t have to do that at all.”
+
+“No,” admitted Madame Dupont.
+
+“But then,” whispered the nurse, half to herself, “that’s not natural.”
+
+“Yes,” the other hurried on, “it is because the baby will have need of
+extra care. You will have to take more trouble; you will have to give
+it medicines; your task will be a little more delicate, a little more
+difficult.”
+
+“Oh, yes; then it’s so that I will be sure to take care of her? I
+understand.”
+
+“Then it’s agreed?” exclaimed Madame Dupont, with relief.
+
+“Yes ma’am,” said the nurse.
+
+“And you won’t come later on to make reproaches to us? We understand one
+another clearly? We have warned you that the child is sick and that you
+could catch the disease. Because of that, because of the special need of
+care which she has, we promise you five hundred francs at the end of the
+nursing. That’s all right, is it?
+
+“But, my lady,” cried the nurse, all her cupidity awakened, “you spoke
+just now of a thousand francs.”
+
+“Very well, then, a thousand francs.”
+
+George passed behind the nurse and got his mother by the arm, drawing
+her to one side. “It would be a mistake,” he whispered, “if we did not
+make her sign an agreement to all that.”
+
+His mother turned to the nurse. “In order that there may be no
+misunderstanding about the sum--you see how it is, I had forgotten
+already that I had spoken of a thousand francs--we will draw up a little
+paper, and you, on your part, will write one for us.”
+
+“Very good, ma’am,” said the nurse, delighted with the idea of so
+important a transaction. “Why, it’s just as you do when you rent a
+house!”
+
+“Here comes the doctor,” said the other. “Come, nurse, it is agreed?”
+
+“Yes, ma’am,” was the answer. But all the same, as she went out she
+hesitated and looked sharply first at the doctor, and then at George
+and his mother. She suspected that something was wrong, and she meant to
+find out if she could.
+
+The doctor seated himself in George’s office chair, as if to write
+a prescription. “The child’s condition remains the same,” he said;
+“nothing disturbing.”
+
+“Doctor,” said Madame Dupont, gravely, “from now on, you will be able
+to devote your attention to the baby and the nurse without any scruple.
+During your absence we have arranged matters nicely. The nurse has been
+informed about the situation, and she does not mind. She has agreed to
+accept an indemnity, and the amount has been stated.”
+
+But the doctor did not take these tidings as the other had hoped he
+might. He replied: “The malady which the nurse will almost inevitably
+contract in feeding the child is too grave in its consequences. Such
+consequences might go as far as complete helplessness, even as far as
+death. So I say that the indemnity, whatever it might be, would not pay
+the damage.”
+
+“But,” exclaimed the other, “she accepts it! She is mistress of herself,
+and she has the right--”
+
+“I am not at all certain that she has the right to sell her own health.
+And I am certain that she has not the right to sell the health of her
+husband and her children. If she becomes infected, it is nearly certain
+that she will communicate the disease to them; the health and the life
+of the children she might have later on would be greatly compromised.
+Such things she cannot possibly sell. Come, madame, you must see that a
+bargain of this sort isn’t possible. If the evil has not been done, you
+must do everything to avoid it.”
+
+“Sir,” protested the mother, wildly, “you do not defend our interests!”
+
+“Madame,” was the reply, “I defend those who are weakest.”
+
+“If we had called in our own physician, who knows us,” she protested,
+“he would have taken sides with us.”
+
+The doctor rose, with a severe look on his face. “I doubt it,” he said,
+“but there is still time to call him.”
+
+George broke in with a cry of distress. “Sir, I implore you!”
+
+And the mother in turn cried. “Don’t abandon us, sir! You ought to make
+allowances! If you knew what that child is to me! I tell you it seems to
+me as if I had waited for her coming in order to die. Have pity upon us!
+Have pity upon her! You speak of the weakest--it is not she who is the
+weakest? You have seen her, you have seen that poor little baby, so
+emaciated! You have seen what a heap of suffering she is already; and
+cannot that inspire in you any sympathy? I pray you, sir--I pray you!”
+
+“I pity her,” said the doctor, “I would like to save her--and I will do
+everything for her. But do not ask me to sacrifice to a feeble infant,
+with an uncertain and probably unhappy life, the health of a sound and
+robust woman. It is useless for us to continue such a discussion as
+that.”
+
+Whereupon Madame Dupont leaped up in sudden frenzy. “Very Well!” she
+exclaimed. “I will not follow your counsels, I will not listen to you!”
+
+Said the doctor in a solemn voice: “There is already some one here who
+regrets that he did not listen to me.”
+
+“Yes,” moaned George, “to my misfortune, to the misfortune of all of
+us.”
+
+But Madame Dupont was quite beside herself. “Very well!” she cried. “If
+it is a fault, if it is a crime, if I shall have to suffer remorse for
+it in this life, and all the punishments in the life to come--I accept
+it all for myself alone! Myself alone, I take that responsibility! It is
+frightfully heavy, but I accept it. I am profoundly a Christian sir; I
+believe in eternal damnation; but to save my little child I consent to
+lose my soul forever. Yes, my mind is made up--I will do everything to
+save that life! Let God judge me; and if he condemns me, so much the
+worse for me!”
+
+The doctor answered: “That responsibility is one which I cannot let
+you take, for it will be necessary that I should accept my part, and I
+refuse it.”
+
+“What will you do?”
+
+“I shall warn the nurse. I shall inform her exactly,
+completely--something which you have not done, I feel sure.”
+
+“What?” cried Madame Dupont, wildly. “You, a doctor, called into a
+family which gives you its entire confidence, which hands over to you
+its most terrible secrets, its most horrible miseries--you would betray
+them?”
+
+“It is not a betrayal,” replied the man, sternly. “It is something which
+the law commands; and even if the law were silent, I would not permit a
+family of worthy people to go astray so far as to commit a crime. Either
+I give up the case, or you have the nursing of the child stopped.”
+
+“You threaten! You threaten!” cried the woman, almost frantic. “You
+abuse the power which your knowledge gives you! You know that it is you
+whose attention we need by that little cradle; you know that we believe
+in you, and you threaten to abandon us! Your abandonment means the death
+of the child, perhaps! And if I listen to you, if we stop the nursing of
+the child--that also means her death!”
+
+She flung up her hands like a mad creature. “And yet there is no other
+means! Ah, my God! Why do you not let it be possible for me to sacrifice
+myself? I would wish nothing more than to be able to do it--if only
+you might take my old body, my old flesh, my old bones--if only I might
+serve for something! How quickly would I consent that it should infect
+me--this atrocious malady! How I would offer myself to it--with what
+joys, with what delights--however disgusting, however frightful it
+might be, however much to be dreaded! Yes, I would take it without fear,
+without regret, if my poor old empty breasts might still give to the
+child the milk which would preserve its life!”
+
+She stopped; and George sprang suddenly from his seat, and fled to her
+and flung himself down upon his knees before her, mingling his sobs and
+tears with hers.
+
+The doctor rose and moved about the room, unable any longer to control
+his distress. “Oh, the poor people!” he murmured to himself. “The poor,
+poor people!”
+
+The storm passed, and Madame Dupont, who was a woman of strong
+character, got herself together. Facing the doctor again, she said,
+“Come, sir, tell us what we have to do.”
+
+“You must stop the nursing, and keep the woman here as a dry nurse, in
+order that she may not go away to carry the disease elsewhere. Do not
+exaggerate to yourself the danger which will result to the child. I am,
+in truth, extremely moved by your suffering, and I will do everything--I
+swear it to you--that your baby may recover as quickly as possible its
+perfect health. I hope to succeed, and that soon. And now I must leave
+you until tomorrow.”
+
+“Thank you, Doctor, thank you,” said Madame Dupont, faintly.
+
+The young man rose and accompanied the doctor to the door. He could not
+bring himself to speak, but stood hanging his head until the other was
+gone. Then he came to his mother. He sought to embrace her, but she
+repelled him--without violence, but firmly.
+
+Her son stepped back and put his hands over his face. “Forgive me!” he
+said, in a broken voice. “Are we not unhappy enough, without hating each
+other?”
+
+His mother answered: “God has punished you for your debauch by striking
+at your child.”
+
+But, grief-stricken as the young man was, he could not believe that.
+“Impossible!” he said. “There is not even a man sufficiently wicked or
+unjust to commit the act which you attribute to your God!”
+
+“Yes,” said his mother, sadly, “you believe in nothing.”
+
+“I believe in no such God as that,” he answered.
+
+A silence followed. When it was broken, it was by the entrance of the
+nurse. She had opened the door of the room and had been standing there
+for some moments, unheeded. Finally she stepped forward. “Madame,” she
+said, “I have thought it over; I would rather go back to my home at
+once, and have only the five hundred francs.”
+
+Madame Dupont stared at her in consternation. “What is that you are
+saying? You want to return to your home?”
+
+“Yes, ma’am,” was the answer.
+
+“But,” cried George, “only ten minutes ago you were not thinking of it.”
+
+“What has happened since then?” demanded Madame Dupont.
+
+“I have thought it over.”
+
+“Thought it over?”
+
+“Well, I am getting lonesome for my little one and for my husband.”
+
+“In the last ten minutes?” exclaimed George.
+
+“There must be something else,” his mother added. “Evidently there must
+be something else.”
+
+“No!” insisted the nurse.
+
+“But I say yes!”
+
+“Well, I’m afraid the air of Paris might not be good for me.”
+
+“You had better wait and try it.”
+
+“I would rather go back at once to my home.”
+
+“Come, now,” cried Madame Dupont, “tell us why?”
+
+“I have told you. I have thought it over.”
+
+“Thought what over?”
+
+“Well, I have thought.”
+
+“Oh,” cried the mother, “what a stupid reply! ‘I have thought it over! I
+have thought it over!’ Thought WHAT over, I want to know!”
+
+“Well, everything.”
+
+“Don’t you know how to tell us what?”
+
+“I tell you, everything.”
+
+“Why,” exclaimed Madame Dupont, “you are an imbecile!”
+
+George stepped between his mother and the nurse. “Let me talk to her,”
+ he said.
+
+The woman came back to her old formula: “I know that we’re only poor
+country people.”
+
+“Listen to me, nurse,” said the young man. “Only a little while ago you
+were afraid that we would send you away. You were satisfied with the
+wages which my mother had fixed. In addition to those wages we had
+promised you a good sum when you returned to your home. Now you tell
+us that you want to go away. You see? All at once. There must be some
+reason; let us understand it. There must certainly be a reason. Has
+anybody done anything to you?”
+
+“No, sir,” said the woman, dropping her eyes.
+
+“Well, then?”
+
+“I have thought it over.”
+
+George burst out, “Don’t go on repeating always the same thing--‘I have
+thought it over!’ That’s not telling us anything.” Controlling himself,
+he added, gently, “Come, tell me why you want to go away?”
+
+There was a silence. “Well?” he demanded.
+
+“I tell you, I have thought--”
+
+George exclaimed in despair, “It’s as if one were talking to a block of
+wood!”
+
+His mother took up the conversation again. “You must realize, you have
+not the right to go away.”
+
+The woman answered, “I WANT to go.”
+
+“But I will not let you leave us.”
+
+“No,” interrupted George angrily, “let her go; we cannot fasten her
+here.”
+
+“Very well, then,” cried the exasperated mother, “since you want to go,
+go! But I have certainly the right to say to you that you are as stupid
+as the animals on your farm!”
+
+“I don’t say that I am not,” answered the woman.
+
+“I will not pay you the month which has just begun, and you will pay
+your railroad fare for yourself.”
+
+The other drew back with a look of anger. “Oho!” she cried. “We’ll see
+about that!”
+
+“Yes, we’ll see about it!” cried George. “And you will get out of here
+at once. Take yourself off--I will have no more to do with you. Good
+evening.”
+
+“No, George,” protested his mother, “don’t lose control of yourself.”
+ And then, with a great effort at calmness, “That cannot be serious,
+nurse! Answer me.”
+
+“I would rather go off right away to my home, and only have my five
+hundred francs.”
+
+“WHAT?” cried George, in consternation.
+
+“What’s that you are telling me?” exclaimed Madame Dupont.
+
+“Five hundred francs?” repeated her son.
+
+“What five hundred francs?” echoed the mother.
+
+“The five hundred francs you promised me,” said the nurse.
+
+“We have promised you five hundred francs? WE?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“When the child should be weaned, and if we should be satisfied with
+you! That was our promise.”
+
+“No. You said you would give them to me when I was leaving. Now I am
+leaving, and I want them.”
+
+Madame Dupont drew herself up, haughtily. “In the first place,” she
+said, “kindly oblige me by speaking to me in another tone; do you
+understand?”
+
+The woman answered, “You have nothing to do but give me my money, and I
+will say nothing more.”
+
+George went almost beside himself with rage at this. “Oh, it’s like
+that?” he shouted. “Very well; I’ll show you!” And he sprang to the door
+and opened it.
+
+But the nurse never budged. “Give me my five hundred francs!” she said.
+
+George seized her by the arm and shoved her toward the door. “You clear
+out of here, do you understand me? And as quickly as you can!”
+
+The woman shook her arm loose, and sneered into his face. “Come now,
+you--you can talk to me a little more politely, eh?”
+
+“Will you go?” shouted George, completely beside himself. “Will you go,
+or must I go out and look for a policeman?”
+
+“A policeman!” demanded the woman. “For what?”
+
+“To put you outside! You are behaving yourself like a thief.”
+
+“A thief? I? What do you mean?”
+
+“I mean that you are demanding money which doesn’t belong to you.”
+
+“More than that,” broke in Madame Dupont, “you are destroying that poor
+little baby! You are a wicked woman!”
+
+“I will put you out myself!” shouted George, and seized her by the arm
+again.
+
+“Oh, it’s like that, is it?” retorted the nurse. “Then you really want
+me to tell you why I am going away?”
+
+“Yes, tell me!” cried he.
+
+His mother added, “Yes, yes!”
+
+She would have spoken differently had she chanced to look behind her and
+seen Henriette, who at that moment appeared in the doorway. She had been
+about to go out, when her attention had been caught by the loud voices.
+She stood now, amazed, clasping her hands together, while the nurse,
+shaking her fist first at Madame Dupont and then at her son, cried
+loudly, “Very well! I’m going away because I don’t want to catch a
+filthy disease here!”
+
+“HUSH!” cried Madame Dupont, and sprang toward her, her hands clenched
+as if she would choke her.
+
+“Be silent!” cried George, wild with terror.
+
+But the woman rushed on without dropping her voice, “Oh, you need not
+be troubling yourselves for fear anyone should overhear! All the world
+knows it! Your other servants were listening with me at your door! They
+heard every word your doctor said!”
+
+“Shut up!” screamed George.
+
+Her mother seized the woman fiercely by the arm. “Hold your tongue!” she
+hissed.
+
+But again the other shook herself loose. She was powerful, and now her
+rage was not to be controlled. She waved her hands in the air, shouting,
+“Let me be, let me be! I know all about your brat--that you will never
+be able to raise it--that it’s rotten because it’s father has a filthy
+disease he got from a woman of the street!”
+
+She got no farther. She was interrupted by a frenzied shriek from
+Henriette. The three turned, horrified, just in time to see her fall
+forward upon the floor, convulsed.
+
+“My God!” cried George. He sprang toward her, and tried to lift her, but
+she shrank from him, repelling him with a gesture of disgust, of hatred,
+of the most profound terror. “Don’t touch me!” she screamed, like a
+maniac. “Don’t touch me!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+It was in vain that Madame Dupont sought to control her daughter-in-law.
+Henriette was beside herself, frantic, she could not be brought to
+listen to any one. She rushed into the other room, and when the older
+woman followed her, shrieked out to be left alone. Afterwards, she fled
+to her own room and barred herself in, and George and his mother waited
+distractedly for hours until she should give some sign.
+
+Would she kill herself, perhaps? Madame Dupont hovered on guard about
+the door of the nursery for fear that the mother in her fit of insanity
+might attempt some harm to her child.
+
+The nurse had slunk away abashed when she saw the consequences of
+her outburst. By the time she had got her belongings packed, she had
+recovered her assurance. She wanted her five hundred; also she wanted
+her wages and her railroad fare home. She wanted them at once, and she
+would not leave until she got them. George and his mother, in the midst
+of all their anguish of mind, had to go through a disgusting scene with
+this coarse and angry woman.
+
+They had no such sum of money in the house, and the nurse refused to
+accept a check. She knew nothing about a check. It was so much paper,
+and might be some trick that they were playing on her. She kept
+repeating her old formula, “I am nothing but a poor country woman.” Nor
+would she be contented with the promise that she would receive the money
+the next day. She seemed to be afraid that if she left the house she
+would be surrendering her claim. So at last the distracted George to
+sally forth and obtain the cash from some tradesmen in the neighborhood.
+
+The woman took her departure. They made her sign a receipt in full for
+all claims and they strove to persuade themselves that this made them
+safe; but in their hearts they had no real conviction of safety. What
+was the woman’s signature, or her pledged word, against the cupidity of
+her husband and relatives. Always she would have the dreadful secret
+to hold over them, and so they would live under the shadow of possible
+blackmail.
+
+Later in the day Henriette sent for her mother-in-law. She was white,
+her eyes were swollen with weeping, and she spoke in a voice choked with
+sobs. She wished to return at once to her father’s home, and to take
+little Gervaise with her. Madame Dupont cried out in horror at this
+proposition, and argued and pleaded and wept--but all to no purpose. The
+girl was immovable. She would not stay under her husband’s roof, and she
+would take her child with her. It was her right, and no one could refuse
+her.
+
+The infant had been crying for hours, but that made no difference.
+Henriette insisted that a cab should be called at once.
+
+So she went back to the home of Monsieur Loches and told him the hideous
+story. Never before in her life had she discussed such subjects with
+any one, but now in her agitation she told her father all. As George had
+declared to the doctor, Monsieur Loches was a person of violent temper;
+at this revelation, at the sight of his daughter’s agony, he was almost
+beside himself. His face turned purple, the veins stood out on his
+forehead; a trembling seized him. He declared that he would kill
+George--there was nothing else to do. Such a scoundrel should not be
+permitted to live.
+
+The effort which Henriette had to make to restrain him had a calming
+effect upon herself. Bitter and indignant as she was, she did not want
+George to be killed. She clung to her father, beseeching him to promise
+her that he would not do such a thing; and all that day and evening she
+watched him, unwilling to let him out of her sight.
+
+There was a matter which claimed her immediate attention, and which
+helped to withdraw them from the contemplation of their own sufferings.
+The infant must be fed and cared for--the unhappy victim of other
+people’s sins, whose life was now imperiled. A dry nurse must be found
+at once, a nurse competent to take every precaution and give the
+child every chance. This nurse must be informed of the nature of the
+trouble--another matter which required a great deal of anxious thought.
+
+That evening came Madame Dupont, tormented by anxiety about the child’s
+welfare, and beseeching permission to help take care of it. It was
+impossible to refuse such a request. Henriette could not endure to
+see her, but the poor grandmother would come and sit for hours in the
+nursery, watching the child and the nurse, in silent agony.
+
+This continued for days, while poor George wandered about at home,
+suffering such torment of mind as can hardly be imagined. Truly, in
+these days he paid for his sins; he paid a thousand-fold in agonized and
+impotent regret. He looked back upon the course of his life, and traced
+one by one the acts which had led him and those he loved into this
+nightmare of torment. He would have been willing to give his life if he
+could have undone those acts. But avenging nature offered him no such
+easy deliverance as that. We shudder as we read the grim words of the
+Jehovah of the ancient Hebrews; and yet not all the learning of modern
+times has availed to deliver us from the cruel decree, that the sins of
+the fathers shall be visited upon the children.
+
+George wrote notes to his wife, imploring her forgiveness. He poured
+out all his agony and shame to her, begging her to see him just once, to
+give him a chance to plead his defense. It was not much of a defense, to
+be sure; it was only that he had done no worse than the others did--only
+that he was a wretched victim of ignorance. But he loved her, he had
+proven that he loved her, and he pleaded that for the sake of their
+child she would forgive him.
+
+When all this availed nothing, he went to see the doctor, whose advice
+he had so shamefully neglected. He besought this man to intercede for
+him--which the doctor, of course, refused to do. It was an extra-medical
+matter, he said, and George was absurd to expect him to meddle in it.
+
+But, as a matter of fact, the doctor had already been interceding--he
+had gone farther in pleading George’s cause than he was willing to have
+George know. For Monsieur Loches had paid him a visit--his purpose being
+to ask the doctor to continue attendance upon the infant, and also
+to give Henriette a certificate which she could use in her suit for a
+divorce from her husband.
+
+So inevitably there had been a discussion of the whole question between
+the two men. The doctor had granted the first request, but refused the
+second. In the first place, he said, there was a rule of professional
+secrecy which would prevent him. And when the father-in-law requested
+to know if the rule of professional secrecy compelled him to protect
+a criminal against honest people, the doctor answered that even if
+his ethics permitted it, he would still refuse the request. “I would
+reproach myself forever,” he said, “if I had aided you to obtain such a
+divorce.”
+
+“Then,” cried the old man, vehemently, “because you profess such and
+such theories, because the exercise of your profession makes you the
+constant witness of such miseries--therefore it is necessary that my
+daughter should continue to bear that man’s name all her life!”
+
+The doctor answered, gently, “Sir, I understand and respect your grief.
+But believe me, you are not in a state of mind to decide about these
+matters now.”
+
+“You are mistaken,” declared the other, controlling himself with an
+effort. “I have been thinking about nothing else for days. I have
+discussed it with my daughter, and she agrees with me. Surely, sir, you
+cannot desire that my daughter should continue to live with a man who
+has struck her so brutal, so cowardly, a blow.”
+
+“If I refuse your request,” the doctor answered, “it is in the interest
+of your daughter.” Then, seeing the other’s excitement returning, he
+continued, “In your state of mind, Monsieur Loches, I know that you will
+probably be abusing me before five minutes has passed. But that will not
+trouble me. I have seen many cases. And since I have made the mistake
+of letting myself be trapped into this discussion, I must explain to you
+the reason for my attitude. You ask of me a certificate so that you may
+prove in court that your son-in-law is afflicted with syphilis.”
+
+“Precisely,” said the other.
+
+“And have you not reflected upon this--that at the same time you will be
+publicly attesting that your daughter has been exposed to the contagion?
+With such an admission, an admission officially registered in the public
+records, do you believe that she will find it easy to re-marry later
+on?”
+
+“She will never re-marry,” said the father.
+
+“She says that today, but can you affirm that she will say the same
+thing five years from now, ten years from now? I tell you you will
+not obtain that divorce, because I will most certainly refuse you the
+necessary certificate.”
+
+“Then,” cried the other, “I will find other means of establishing
+proofs. I will have the child examined by another doctor!”
+
+The other answered. “Then you do not find that that poor little one has
+been already sufficiently handicapped at the outset of its life? Your
+granddaughter has a physical defect. Do you wish to add to that a
+certificate of hereditary syphilis, which will follow her all her life?”
+
+Monsieur Loches sprang from his chair. “You mean that if the victims
+seek to defend themselves, they will be struck the harder! You mean that
+the law gives me no weapon against a man who, knowing his condition,
+takes a young girl, sound, trusting, innocent, and befouls her with the
+result of his debauches--makes her the mother of a poor little creature,
+whose future is such that those who love her the most do not know
+whether they ought to pray for her life, or for her immediate
+deliverance? Sir,” he continued, in his orator’s voice, “that man has
+inflicted upon the woman he has married a supreme insult. He has made
+her the victim of the most odious assault. He has degraded her--he has
+brought her, so to speak, into contact with the woman of the streets. He
+has created between her and that common woman I know not what mysterious
+relationship. It is the poisoned blood of the prostitute which poisons
+my daughter and her child; that abject creature, she lives, she lives in
+us! She belongs to our family--he has given her a seat at our hearth! He
+has soiled the imagination and the thoughts of my poor child, as he
+has soiled her body. He has united forever in her soul the idea of
+love which she has placed so high, with I know not what horrors of the
+hospitals. He has tainted her in her dignity and her modesty, in her
+love as well as in her baby. He has struck her down with physical and
+moral decay, he has overwhelmed her with vileness. And yet the law is
+such, the customs of society are such, that the woman cannot separate
+herself from that man save by the aid of legal proceedings whose scandal
+will fall upon herself and upon her child!”
+
+Monsieur Loches had been pacing up and down the room as he spoke, and
+now he clenched his fists in sudden fury.
+
+“Very well! I will not address myself to the law. Since I learned the
+truth I have been asking myself if it was not my duty to find that
+monster and to put a bullet into his head, as one does to a mad dog. I
+don’t know what weakness, what cowardice, has held me back, and decided
+me to appeal to the law. Since the law will not protect me, I will seek
+justice for myself. Perhaps his death will be a good warning for the
+others!”
+
+The doctor shrugged his shoulders, as if to say that this was no affair
+of his and that he would not try to interfere. But he remarked, quietly:
+“You will be tried for your life.”
+
+“I shall be acquitted!” cried the other.
+
+“Yes, but after a public revelation of all your miseries. You will make
+the scandal greater, the miseries greater--that is all. And how do you
+know but that on the morrow of your acquittal, you will find yourself
+confronting another court, a higher and more severe one? How do you
+know but that your daughter, seized at last by pity for the man you have
+killed, will not demand to know by what right you have acted so, by what
+right you have made an orphan of her child? How can you know but that
+her child also may some day demand an accounting of you?”
+
+Monsieur Loches let his hands fall, and stood, a picture of crushed
+despair. “Tell me then,” he said, in a faint voice, “what ought I to
+do?”
+
+“Forgive!”
+
+For a while the doctor sat looking at him. “Sir,” he said, at last,
+“tell me one thing. You are inflexible; you feel you have the right to
+be inflexible. But are you really so certain that it was not your duty,
+once upon a time, to save your daughter from the possibility of such
+misfortune?”
+
+“What?” cried the other. “My duty? What do you mean?”
+
+“I mean this, sir. When that marriage was being discussed, you certainly
+took precautions to inform yourself about the financial condition of
+your future son-in-law. You demanded that he should prove to you that
+his stocks and bonds were actual value, listed on the exchange. Also,
+you obtained some information about his character. In fact, you forgot
+only one point, the most important of all--that was, to inquire if he
+was in good health. You never did that.”
+
+The father-in-law’s voice had become faint. “No,” he said.
+
+“But why not?”
+
+“Because that is not the custom.”
+
+“Very well, but that ought to be the custom. Surely the father of a
+family, before he gives his daughter to a man, should take as much
+precaution as a business concern which accepts an employee.”
+
+“You are right,” was the reply, “there should be a law.” The man spoke
+as a deputy, having authority in these matters.
+
+But the doctor cried, “No, no, sir! Do not make a new law. We have
+too many already. There is no need of it. It would suffice that people
+should know a little better what syphilis is. The custom would establish
+itself very quickly for a suitor to add to all the other documents
+which he presents, a certificate of a doctor, as proof that he could
+be received into a family without bringing a pestilence with him. That
+would be very simple. Once let the custom be established, then the
+suitor would go to the doctor for a certificate of health, just as he
+goes to the priest for a certificate that he has confessed; and by that
+means you would prevent a great deal of suffering in the world. Or let
+me put it another way, sir. Nowadays, before you conclude a marriage,
+you get the lawyers of the two families together. It would be of at
+least equal importance to get their two doctors together. You see, sir,
+your inquiry concerning your son-in-law was far from complete. So your
+daughter may fairly ask you, why you, being a man, being a father who
+ought to know these things, did not take as much care of her health as
+you took of her fortune. So it is, sir, that I say to you, forgive!”
+
+But Monsieur Loches said again, “Never!”
+
+And again the doctor sat and watched him for a minute. “Come, sir,” he
+began, finally, “since it is necessary to employ the last argument, I
+will do so. To be so severe and so pitiless--are you yourself without
+sin?”
+
+The other answered, “I have never had a shameful disease.”
+
+“I do not ask you that,” interrupted the doctor. “I ask you if you have
+never exposed yourself to the chance of having it.” And then, reading
+the other’s face, he went on, in a tone of quiet certainty. “Yes, you
+have exposed yourself. Then, sir, it was not virtue that you had; it
+was good fortune. That is one of the things which exasperate me the
+most--that term ‘shameful disease’ which you have just used. Like all
+other diseases, that is one of our misfortunes, and it is never shameful
+to be unfortunate--even if one has deserved it.” The doctor paused,
+and then with some excitement he went on: “Come, sir, come, we must
+understand each other. Among men the most exacting, among those who with
+their middle-class prudery dare not pronounce the name of syphilis,
+or who make the most terrifying faces, the most disgusted, when they
+consent to speak of it--who regard the syphilitic as sinners--I should
+wish to know how many there are who have never exposed themselves to a
+similar misadventure. They and they alone have the right to speak. How
+many are there? Among a thousand men, are there four? Very well, then.
+Excepting those four, between all the rest and the syphilitic there is
+nothing but the difference of chance.”
+
+There came into the doctor’s voice at this moment a note of intense
+feeling; for these were matters of which evidence came to him every day.
+“I tell you, sir, that such people are deserving of sympathy, because
+they are suffering. If they have committed a fault, they have at least
+the plea that they are expiating it. No, sir, let me hear no more of
+that hypocrisy. Recall your own youth, sir. That which afflicts your
+son-in-law, you have deserved it just as much as he--more than he,
+perhaps. Therefore, have pity on him; have for him the toleration which
+the unpunished criminal ought to have for the criminal less fortunate
+than himself upon whom the penalty has fallen. Is that not so?”
+
+Monsieur Loches had been listening to this discourse with the feeling of
+a thief before the bar. There was nothing that he could answer. “Sir,”
+ he stammered, “as you present this thing to me--”
+
+“But am I not right?” insisted the doctor.
+
+“Perhaps you are,” the other admitted. “But--I cannot say all that to my
+daughter, to persuade her to go back to her husband.”
+
+“You can give her other arguments,” was the answer.
+
+“What arguments, in God’s name?”
+
+“There is no lack of them. You will say to her that a separation would
+be a misfortune for all; that her husband is the only one in the world
+who would be devoted enough to help her save her child. You will say to
+her that out of the ruins of her first happiness she can build herself
+another structure, far stronger. And, sir, you will add to that whatever
+your good heart may suggest--and we will arrange so that the next child
+of the pair shall be sound and vigorous.”
+
+Monsieur Loches received this announcement with the same surprise that
+George himself had manifested. “Is that possible?” he asked.
+
+The doctor cried: “Yes, yes, yes--a thousand times yes! There is a
+phrase which I repeat on every occasion, and which I would wish to post
+upon the walls. It is that syphilis is an imperious mistress, who only
+demands that one should recognize her power. She is terrible for
+those who think her insignificant, and gentle with those who know how
+dangerous she is. You know that kind of mistress--who is only vexed when
+she is neglected. You may tell this to your daughter--you will restore
+her to the arms of her husband, from whom she has no longer anything
+to fear, and I will guarantee that you will be a happy grandfather two
+years from now.”
+
+Monsieur Loches at last showed that he was weakened in his resolution.
+
+“Doctor,” he said, “I do not know that I can ever go so far as
+forgiveness, but I promise you that I will do no irreparable act, and
+that I will not oppose a reconciliation if after the lapse of some
+time--I cannot venture to say how long--my poor child should make up her
+mind to a reconciliation.”
+
+“Very good,” said the other. “But let me add this: If you have another
+daughter, take care to avoid the fault which you committed when you
+married off the first.”
+
+“But,” said the old man, “I did not know.”
+
+“Ah, surely!” cried the other. “You did not know! You are a father, and
+you did not know! You are a deputy, you have assumed the responsibility
+and the honor of making our laws--and you did not know! You are ignorant
+about syphilis, just as you probably are ignorant about alcoholism and
+tuberculosis.”
+
+“No,” exclaimed the other, quickly.
+
+“Very well,” said the doctor, “I will leave you out, if you wish. I am
+talking of the others, the five hundred, and I don’t know how many
+more, who are there in the Chamber of Deputies, and who call themselves
+representatives of the people. They are not able to find a single hour
+to discuss these three cruel gods, to which egotism and indifference
+make every day such frightful human sacrifices. They have not sufficient
+leisure to combat this ferocious trinity, which destroys every day
+thousands of lives. Alcoholism! It would be necessary to forbid the
+manufacture of poisons, and to restrict the number of licenses; but as
+one has fear of the great distillers, who are rich and powerful, and of
+the little dealers, who are the masters of universal suffrage, one
+puts one’s conscience to sleep by lamenting the immorality of
+the working-class, and publishing little pamphlets and sermons.
+Imbeciles!...Tuberculosis! Everybody knows the true remedy, which would
+be the paying of sufficient wages, and the tearing down of the filthy
+tenements into which the laborers are packed--those who are the most
+useful and the most unfortunate among our population! But needless to
+say, no one wants that remedy, so we go round begging the workingmen not
+to spit on the sidewalks. Wonderful! But syphilis--why do you not occupy
+yourself with that? Why, since you have ministers whose duty it is to
+attend to all sorts of things, do you not have a minister to attend to
+the public health?”
+
+“My dear Doctor,” responded Monsieur Loches, “you fall into the French
+habit of considering the government as the cause of all evils. Show us
+the way, you learned gentlemen! Since that is a matter about which you
+are informed, and we are ignorant, begin by telling us what measures you
+believe to be necessary.”
+
+“Ah, ah!” exclaimed the other. “That’s fine, indeed! It was about
+eighteen years ago that a project of that nature, worked out by the
+Academy of Medicine, and approved by it UNANIMOUSLY, was sent to the
+proper minister. We have not yet heard his reply.”
+
+“You really believe,” inquired Monsieur Loches, in some bewilderment,
+“you believe that there are some measures--”
+
+“Sir,” broke in the doctor, “before we get though, you are going to
+suggest some measures yourself. Let me tell you what happened today.
+When I received your card I did not know that you were the father-in-law
+of George Dupont. I say that you were a deputy, and I thought that you
+wanted to get some information about these matters. There was a woman
+patient waiting to see me, and I kept her in my waiting-room--saying to
+myself, This is just the sort of person that our deputies ought to talk
+to.”
+
+The doctor paused for a moment, then continued: “Be reassured, I will
+take care of your nerves. This patient has no trouble that is apparent
+to the eye. She is simply an illustration of the argument I have been
+advancing--that our worst enemy is ignorance. Ignorance--you understand
+me? Since I have got you here, sir, I am going to hold you until I have
+managed to cure a little of your ignorance! For I tell you, sir, it is
+a thing which drives me to distraction--we MUST do something about these
+conditions! Take this case, for example. Here is a woman who is very
+seriously infected. I told her--well, wait; you shall see for yourself.”
+
+The doctor went to the door and summoned into the room a woman whom
+Monsieur Loches had noticed waiting there. She was verging on old age,
+small, frail, and ill-nourished in appearance, poorly dressed, and yet
+with a suggestion of refinement about her. She stood near the door,
+twisting her hands together nervously, and shrinking from the gaze of
+the strange gentleman. The doctor began in an angry voice. “Did I not
+tell you to come and see me once every eight days? Is that not true?”
+
+The woman answered, in a faint voice, “Yes, sir.”
+
+“Well,” he exclaimed, “and how long has it been since you were here?”
+
+“Three months, sir.”
+
+“Three months! And you believe that I can take care of you under such
+conditions? I give you up! Do you understand? You discourage me, you
+discourage me.” There was a pause. Then, seeing the woman’s suffering,
+he began, in a gentler tone, “Come now, what is the reason that you
+have not come? Didn’t you know that you have a serious disease--most
+serious?”
+
+“Oh, yes, sir,” replied the woman, “I know that very well--since my
+husband died of it.”
+
+The doctor’s voice bore once again its note of pity. “Your husband died
+of it?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“He took no care of himself?”
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+“And was not that a warning to you?”
+
+“Doctor,” the woman replied, “I would ask nothing better than to come as
+often as you told me, but the cost is too great.”
+
+“How--what cost? You were coming to my free clinic.”
+
+“Yes, sir,” replied the woman, “but that’s during working hours, and
+then it is a long way from home. There are so many sick people, and I
+have to wait my turn, It is in the morning--sometimes I lose a whole
+day--and then my employer is annoyed, and he threatens to turn me off.
+It is things like that that keep people from coming, until they dare not
+put it off any longer. Then, too, sir--” the woman stopped, hesitating.
+
+“Well,” demanded the doctor.
+
+“Oh, nothing, sir,” she stammered. “You have been too good to me
+already.”
+
+“Go on,” commanded the other. “Tell me.”
+
+“Well,” murmured the woman, “I know I ought not to put on airs, but you
+see I have not always been so poor. Before my husband’s misfortune,
+we were well fixed. So you see, I have a little pride. I have always
+managed to take care of myself. I am not a woman of the streets, and to
+stand around like that, with everybody else, to be obliged to tell
+all one’s miseries out loud before the world! I am wrong, I know it
+perfectly well; I argue with myself--but all the same, it’s hard, sir; I
+assure you, it is truly hard.”
+
+“Poor woman!” said the doctor; and for a while there was a silence. Then
+he asked: “It was your husband who brought you the disease?”
+
+“Yes, sir,” was the reply. “Everything which happened to us came from
+him. We were living in the country when he got the disease. He went half
+crazy. He no longer knew how to manage his affairs. He gave orders here
+and there for considerable sums. We were not able to find the money.”
+
+“Why did he not undergo treatment?”
+
+“He didn’t know then. We were sold out, and we came to Paris. But we
+hadn’t a penny. He decided to go to the hospital for treatment.”
+
+“And then?”
+
+“Why, they looked him over, but they refused him any medicine.”
+
+“How was that?”
+
+“Because we had been in Paris only three months. If one hasn’t been a
+resident six months, one has no right to free medicine.”
+
+“Is that true?” broke in Monsieur Loches quickly.
+
+“Yes,” said the doctor, “that’s the rule.”
+
+“So you see,” said the woman, “it was not our fault.”
+
+“You never had children?” inquired the doctor.
+
+“I was never able to bring one to birth,” was the answer. “My husband
+was taken just at the beginning of our marriage--it was while he
+was serving in the army. You know, sir--there are women about the
+garrisons--” She stopped, and there was a long silence.
+
+“Come,” said the doctor, “that’s all right. I will arrange it with you.
+You can come here to my office, and you can come on Sunday mornings.”
+ And as the poor creature started to express her gratitude, he slipped a
+coin into her hand. “Come, come; take it,” he said gruffly. “You are not
+going to play proud with me. No, no, I have no time to listen to you.
+Hush!” And he pushed her out of the door.
+
+Then he turned to the deputy. “You heard her story, sir,” he said. “Her
+husband was serving his time in the army; it was you law-makers who
+compelled him to do that. And there are women about the garrisons--you
+heard how her voice trembled as she said that? Take my advice, sir, and
+look up the statistics as to the prevalence of this disease among our
+soldiers. Come to some of my clinics, and let me introduce you to other
+social types. You don’t care very much about soldiers, perhaps--they
+belong to the lower classes, and you think of them as rough men. But let
+me show you what is going on among our college students--among the men
+our daughters are some day to marry. Let me show you the women who prey
+upon them! Perhaps, who knows--I can show you the very woman who was the
+cause of all the misery in your own family!”
+
+And as Monsieur Loches rose from his chair, the doctor came to him and
+took him by the hand. “Promise me, sir,” he said, earnestly, “that you
+will come back and let me teach you more about these matters. It is a
+chance that I must not let go--the first time in my life that I ever got
+hold of a real live deputy! Come and make a study of this subject, and
+let us try to work out some sensible plan, and get seriously to work to
+remedy these frightful evils!”
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+George lived with his mother after Henriette had left his home. He was
+wretchedly unhappy and lonely. He could find no interest in any of the
+things which had pleased him before. He was ashamed to meet any of his
+friends, because he imagined that everyone must have heard the dreadful
+story--or because he was not equal to making up explanations for his
+mournful state. He no longer cared much about his work. What was the
+use of making a reputation or earning large fees when one had nothing to
+spend them for?
+
+All his thoughts were fixed upon the wife and child he had lost. He was
+reminded of Henriette in a thousand ways, and each way brought him a
+separate pang of grief. He had never realized how much he had come to
+depend upon her in every little thing--until now, when her companionship
+was withdrawn from him, and everything seemed to be a blank. He would
+come home at night, and opposite to him at the dinner-table would be his
+mother, silent and spectral. How different from the days when Henriette
+was there, radiant and merry, eager to be told everything that had
+happened to him through the day!
+
+There was also his worry about little Gervaise. He might no longer hear
+how she was doing, for he could not get up courage to ask his mother
+the news. Thus poor George was paying for his sins. He could make no
+complaints against the price, however high--only sometimes he
+wondered whether he would be able to pay it. There were times of such
+discouragement that he thought of different ways of killing himself.
+
+A curious adventure befell him during this period. He was walking one
+day in the park, when he saw approaching a girl whose face struck him as
+familiar. At first he could not recollect where he had seen her. It was
+only when she was nearly opposite him that he realized--it was the girl
+who had been the cause of all his misery!
+
+He tried to look away, but he was too late. Her eyes had caught his, and
+she nodded and then stopped, exclaiming, “Why, how do you do?”
+
+George had to face her. “How do you do?” he responded, weakly.
+
+She held out her hand and he had to take it, but there was not much
+welcome in his clasp. “Where have you been keeping yourself?” she asked.
+Then, as he hesitated, she laughed good-naturedly, “What’s the matter?
+You don’t seem glad to see me.”
+
+The girl--Therese was her name--had a little package under her arm, as
+if she had been shopping. She was not well dressed, as when George had
+met her before, and doubtless she thought that was the reason for his
+lack of cordiality. This made him rather ashamed, and so, only half
+realizing what he was doing, he began to stroll along with her.
+
+“Why did you never come to see me again?” she asked.
+
+George hesitated. “I--I--” he stammered--“I’ve been married since then.”
+
+She laughed. “Oh! So that’s it!” And then, as they came to a bench under
+some trees, “Won’t you sit down a while?” There was allurement in her
+glance, but it made George shudder. It was incredible to him that he
+had ever been attracted by this crude girl. The spell was now broken
+completely.
+
+She quickly saw that something was wrong. “You don’t seem very
+cheerful,” she said. “What’s the matter?”
+
+And the man, staring at her, suddenly blurted out, “Don’t you know what
+you did to me?”
+
+“What I did to you?” Therese repeated wonderingly.
+
+“You must know!” he insisted.
+
+And then she tried to meet his gaze and could not. “Why--” she
+stammered.
+
+There was silence between them. When George spoke again his voice was
+low and trembling. “You ruined my whole life,” he said--“not only mine,
+but my family’s. How could you do it?”
+
+She strove to laugh it off. “A cheerful topic for an afternoon stroll!”
+
+For a long while George did not answer. Then, almost in a whisper, he
+repeated, “How could you do it?”
+
+“Some one did it to me first,” was the response. “A man!”
+
+“Yes,” said George, “but he didn’t know.”
+
+“How can you tell whether he knew or not?”
+
+“You knew?” he inquired, wonderingly.
+
+Therese hesitated. “Yes, I knew,” she said at last, defiantly. “I have
+known for years.”
+
+“And I’m not the only man.”
+
+She laughed. “I guess not!”
+
+There followed a long pause. At last he resumed, “I don’t want to blame
+you; there’s nothing to be gained by that; it’s done, and can’t
+be undone. But sometimes I wonder about it. I should like to
+understand--why did you do it?”
+
+“Why? That’s easy enough. I did it because I have to live.”
+
+“You live that way?” he exclaimed.
+
+“Why of course. What did you think?”
+
+“I thought you were a--a--” He hesitated.
+
+“You thought I was respectable,” laughed Therese. “Well, that’s just a
+little game I was playing on you.”
+
+“But I didn’t give you any money!” he argued.
+
+“Not that time,” she said, “but I thought you would come back.”
+
+He sat gazing at her. “And you earn your living that way still?” he
+asked. “When you know what’s the matter with you! When you know--”
+
+“What can I do? I have to live, don’t I?”
+
+“But don’t you even take care of yourself? Surely there must be some
+way, some place--”
+
+“The reformatory, perhaps,” she sneered. “No, thanks! I’ll go there
+when the police catch me, not before. I know some girls that have tried
+that.”
+
+“But aren’t you afraid?” cried the man. “And the things that will happen
+to you! Have you ever talked to a doctor--or read a book?”
+
+“I know,” she said. “I’ve seen it all. If it comes to me, I’ll go over
+the side of one of the bridges some dark night.”
+
+George sat lost in thought. A strange adventure it seemed to him--to
+meet this girl under such different circumstances! It was as if he were
+watching a play from behind the scenes instead of in front. If only he
+had had this new view in time--how different would have been his life!
+And how terrible it was to think of the others who didn’t know--the
+audience who were still sitting out in front, watching the spectacle,
+interested in it!
+
+His thoughts came back to Therese. He was curious about her and the life
+she lived. “Tell me a little about it,” he said. “How you came to be
+doing this.” And he added, “Don’t think I want to preach; I’d really
+like to understand.”
+
+“Oh, it’s a common story,” she said--“nothing especially romantic.
+I came to Paris when I was a girl. My parents had died, and I had no
+friends, and I didn’t know what to do. I got a place as a nursemaid.
+I was seventeen years old then, and I didn’t know anything. I believed
+what I was told, and I believed my employer. His wife was ill in a
+hospital, and he said he wanted to marry me when she died. Well, I liked
+him, and I was sorry for him--and then the first thing I knew I had a
+baby. And then the wife came back, and I was turned off. I had been a
+fool, of course. If I had been in her place should have done just what
+she did.”
+
+The girl was speaking in a cold, matter-of-fact voice, as of things
+about which she was no longer able to suffer. “So, there I was--on the
+street,” she went on. “You have always had money, a comfortable home,
+education, friends to help you--all that. You can’t imagine how it is
+to be in the world without any of these things. I lived on my savings as
+long as I could; then I had to leave my baby in a foundling’s home, and
+I went out to do my five hours on the boulevards. You know the game, I
+have no doubt.”
+
+Yes, George knew the game. Somehow or other he no longer felt bitter
+towards this poor creature. She was part of the system of which he was
+a victim also. There was nothing to be gained by hating each other.
+Just as the doctor said, what was needed was enlightenment. “Listen,” he
+said, “why don’t you try to get cured?”
+
+“I haven’t got the price,” was the answer.
+
+“Well,” he said, hesitatingly, “I know a doctor--one of the really good
+men. He has a free clinic, and I’ve no doubt he would take you in if I
+asked him to.”
+
+“YOU ask him?” echoed the other, looking at George in surprise.
+
+The young man felt somewhat uncomfortable. He was not used to playing
+the role of the good Samaritan. “I--I need not tell him about us,” he
+stammered. “I could just say that I met you. I have had such a wretched
+time myself, I feel sorry for anybody that’s in the same plight. I
+should like to help you if I could.”
+
+The girl sat staring before her, lost in thought. “I have treated you
+badly, I guess,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m ashamed of myself.”
+
+George took a pencil and paper from his pocket and wrote the doctor’s
+address. “Here it is,” he said, in a business-like way, because he felt
+that otherwise he could become sentimental. He was half tempted to tell
+the woman what had happened to him, and all about Henriette and the
+sick child; but he realized that that would not do. So he rose and shook
+hands with her and left.
+
+The next time he saw the doctor he told him about this girl. He decided
+to tell him the truth--having already made so many mistakes trying
+to conceal things. The doctor agreed to treat the woman, making the
+condition that George promise not to see her again.
+
+The young man was rather shocked at this. “Doctor,” he exclaimed, “I
+assure you you are mistaken. The thing you have in mind would be utterly
+impossible.”
+
+“I know,” said the other, “you think so. But I think, young man, that
+I know more about life than you do. When a man and a woman have once
+committed such a sin, it is easy for them to slip back. The less time
+they spend talking about their misfortunes, and being generous and
+forbearing to each other, the better for them both.”
+
+“But, Doctor,” cried George. “I love Henriette! I could not possibly
+love anyone else. It would be horrible to me!”
+
+“Yes,” said the doctor. “But you are not living with Henriette. You are
+wandering round, not knowing what to do with yourself next.”
+
+There was no need for anybody to tell George that. “What do you think?”
+ he asked abruptly. “Is there any hope for me?”
+
+“I think there is,” said the other, who, in spite of his resolution, had
+become a sort of ambassador for the unhappy husband. He had to go to
+the Loches house to attend the child, and so he could not help seeing
+Henriette, and talking to her about the child’s health and her own
+future. He considered that George had had his lesson, and urged upon the
+young wife that he would be wiser in future, and safe to trust.
+
+George had indeed learned much. He got new lessons every time he went to
+call at the physician’s office--he could read them in the faces of the
+people he saw there. One day when he was alone in the waiting-room, the
+doctor came out of his inner office, talking to an elderly gentleman,
+whom George recognized as the father of one of his classmates at
+college. The father was a little shopkeeper, and the young man
+remembered how pathetically proud he had been of his son. Could it be,
+thought George, that this old man was a victim of syphilis?
+
+But it was the son, and not the father, who was the subject of the
+consultation. The old man was speaking in a deeply moved voice, and he
+stood so that George could not help hearing what he said. “Perhaps you
+can’t understand,” he said, “just what it means to us--the hopes we had
+of that boy! Such a fine fellow he was, and a good fellow, too, sir! We
+were so proud of him; we had bled our veins to keep him in college--and
+now just see!”
+
+“Don’t despair, sir,” said the doctor, “we’ll try to cure him.” And he
+added with that same note of sorrow in his voice which George had heard,
+“Why did you wait so long before you brought the boy to me?”
+
+“How was I to know what he had?” cried the other. “He didn’t dare tell
+me, sir--he was afraid of my scolding him. And in the meantime the
+disease was running its course. When he realized that he had it, he went
+secretly to one of the quacks, who robbed him, and didn’t cure him. You
+know how it is, sir.”
+
+“Yes, I know,” said the doctor.
+
+“Such things ought not to be permitted,” cried the old man. “What is
+our government about that it allows such things to go on? Take the
+conditions there at the college where my poor boy was ruined. At the
+very gates of the building these women are waiting for the lads! Ought
+they to be permitted to debauch young boys only fifteen years old?
+Haven’t we got police enough to prevent a thing like that? Tell me,
+sir!”
+
+“One would think so,” said the doctor, patiently.
+
+“But is it that the police don’t want to?”
+
+“No doubt they have the same excuse as all the rest--they don’t know.
+Take courage, sir; we have cured worse cases than your son’s. And some
+day, perhaps, we shall be able to change these conditions.”
+
+So he went on with the man, leaving George with something to think
+about. How much he could have told them about what had happened to that
+young fellow when only fifteen years old! It had not been altogether the
+fault of the women who were lurking outside of the college gates; it was
+a fact that the boy’s classmates had teased him and ridiculed him, had
+literally made his life a torment, until he had yielded to temptation.
+
+It was the old, old story of ignorant and unguided schoolboys all over
+the world! They thought that to be chaste was to be weak and foolish;
+that a fellow was not a man unless he led a life of debauchery like the
+rest. And what did they know about these dreadful diseases? They had the
+most horrible superstitions--ideas of cures so loathsome that they could
+not be set down in print; ideas as ignorant and destructive as those
+of savages in the heart of Africa. And you might hear them laughing
+and jesting about one another’s condition. They might be afflicted with
+diseases which would have the most terrible after-effects upon their
+whole lives and upon their families--diseases which cause tens of
+thousands of surgical operations upon women, and a large percentage of
+blindness and idiocy in children--and you might hear them confidently
+express the opinion that these diseases were no worse than a bad cold!
+
+And all this mass of misery and ignorance covered over and clamped
+down by a taboo of silence, imposed by the horrible superstition of
+sex-prudery! George went out from the doctor’s office trembling with
+excitement over this situation. Oh, why had not some one warned him in
+time? Why didn’t the doctors and the teachers lift up their voices and
+tell young men about these frightful dangers? He wanted to go out in
+the highways and preach it himself--except that he dared not, because he
+could not explain to the world his own sudden interest in this forbidden
+topic.
+
+These was only one person he dared to talk to: that was his mother--to
+whom he ought to have talked many, many years before. He was moved to
+mention to her the interview he had overheard in the doctor’s office. In
+a sudden burst of grief he told her of his struggles and temptations; he
+pleaded with her to go to Henriette once more--to tell her these things,
+and try to make her realize that he alone was not to blame for them,
+that they were a condition which prevailed everywhere, that the only
+difference between her husband and other men was that he had had the
+misfortune to be caught.
+
+There was pressure being applied to Henriette from several sides. After
+all, what could she do? She was comfortable in her father’s home, so far
+as the physical side of things went; but she knew that all her friends
+were gossiping and speculating about her separation from her husband,
+and sooner or later she would have to make up her mind, either to
+separate permanently from George or to return to him. There was not much
+happiness for her in the thought of getting a divorce from a man whom
+deep in her heart she loved. She would be practically a widow the rest
+of her life, and the home in which poor little Gervaise would be brought
+up would not be a cheerful one.
+
+George was ready to offer any terms, if only she would come back to his
+home. They might live separate lives for as long as Henriette wished.
+They would have no more children until the doctor declared it was quite
+safe; and in the meantime he would be humble and patient, and would try
+his best to atone for the wrong that he had done her.
+
+To these arguments Madame Dupont added others of her own. She told the
+girl some things which through bitter experience she had learned about
+the nature and habits of men; things that should be told to every girl
+before marriage, but which almost all of them are left to find out
+afterwards, with terrible suffering and disillusionment. Whatever
+George’s sins may have been, he was a man who had been chastened by
+suffering, and would know how to value a woman’s love for the rest of
+his life. Not all men knew that--not even those who had been fortunate
+in escaping from the so-called “shameful disease.”
+
+Henriette was also hearing arguments from her father, who by this time
+had had time to think things over, and had come to the conclusion
+that the doctor was right. He had noted his son-in-law’s patience and
+penitence, and had also made sure that in spite of everything Henriette
+still loved him. The baby apparently was doing well; and the Frenchman,
+with his strong sense of family ties, felt it a serious matter to
+separate a child permanently from its father. So in the end he cast
+the weight of his influence in favor of a reconciliation, and Henriette
+returned to her husband, upon terms which the doctor laid down.
+
+The doctor played in these negotiations the part which he had not been
+allowed to play in the marriage. For the deputy was now thoroughly awake
+to the importance of the duty he owed his daughter. In fact, he had
+become somewhat of a “crank” upon the whole subject. He had attended
+several of the doctor’s clinics, and had read books and pamphlets on the
+subject of syphilis, and was now determined that there should be some
+practical steps towards reform.
+
+At the outset, he had taken the attitude of the average legislator, that
+the thing to do was to strengthen the laws against prostitution, and to
+enforce them more strictly. He echoed the cry of the old man whom George
+had heard in the doctor’s office: “Are there not enough police?”
+
+“We must go to the source,” he declared. “We must proceed against these
+miserable women--veritable poisoners that they are!”
+
+He really thought this was going to the source! But the doctor was quick
+to answer his arguments. “Poisoners?” he said. “You forget that they
+have first been poisoned. Every one of these women who communicates the
+disease has first received it from some man.”
+
+Monsieur Loches advanced to his second idea, to punish the men. But the
+doctor had little interest in this idea either. He had seen it tried so
+many times--such a law could never be enforced. What must come first was
+education, and by this means a modification of morals. People must cease
+to treat syphilis as a mysterious evil, of which not even the name could
+be pronounced.
+
+“But,” objected the other, “one cannot lay it bare to children in our
+educational institutions!”
+
+“Why not?” asked the doctor.
+
+“Because, sir, there are curiosities which it would be imprudent to
+awaken.”
+
+The doctor became much excited whenever he heard this argument. “You
+believe that you are preventing these curiosities from awakening?”
+ he demanded. “I appeal to those--both men and women--who have passed
+through colleges and boarding schools! Such curiosities cannot be
+smothered, and they satisfy themselves as best they can, basely,
+vilely. I tell you, sir, there is nothing immoral about the act which
+perpetuates life by means of love. But we organize around it, so far as
+concerns our children, a gigantic and rigorous conspiracy of silence.
+The worthy citizen takes his daughter and his son to popular musical
+comedies, where they listen to things which would make a monkey blush;
+but it is forbidden to discuss seriously before the young that act
+of love which people seem to think they should only know of through
+blasphemies and profanations! Either that act is a thing of which
+people can speak without blushing--or else, sir, it is a matter for
+the innuendoes of the cabaret and the witticisms of the messroom!
+Pornography is admitted, but science is not! I tell you, sir, that is
+the thing which must be changed! We must elevate the soul of the young
+man by taking these facts out of the realm of mystery and of slang. We
+must awaken in him a pride in that creative power with which each one of
+us is endowed. We must make him understand that he is a sort of temple
+in which is prepared the future of the race, and we must teach him that
+he must transmit, intact, the heritage entrusted to him--the precious
+heritage which has been built out of the tears and miseries and
+sufferings of an interminable line of ancestors!”
+
+So the doctor argued. He brought forth case after case to prove that the
+prostitute was what she was, not because of innate vileness, but because
+of economic conditions. It happened that the deputy came to one of the
+clinics where he met Therese. The doctor brought her into his consulting
+room, after telling her that the imposing-looking gentleman was a friend
+of the director of the opera, and might be able to recommend her for
+a position on the stage to which she aspired. “Tell him all about
+yourself,” he said, “how you live, and what you do, and what you would
+like to do. You will get him interested in you.”
+
+So the poor girl retold the story of her life. She spoke in a
+matter-of-fact voice, and when she came to tell how she had been obliged
+to leave her baby in the foundling asylum, she was surprised that
+Monsieur Loches showed horror. “What could I do?” she demanded. “How
+could I have taken care of it?”
+
+“Didn’t you ever miss it?” he asked.
+
+“Of course I missed it. But what difference did that make? It would have
+died of hunger with me.”
+
+“Still,” he said, “it was your child--”
+
+“It was the father’s child, too, wasn’t it? Much attention he paid to
+it! If I had been sure of getting money enough, I would have put it out
+to nurse. But with the twenty-five or thirty francs a month I could have
+earned as a servant, could I have paid for a baby? That’s the situation
+a girl faces--so long as I wanted to remain honest, it was impossible
+for me to keep my child. You answer, perhaps, ‘You didn’t stay honest
+anyway.’ That’s true. But then--when you are hungry, and a nice young
+fellow offers you dinner, you’d have to be made of wood to refuse him.
+Of course, if I had had a trade--but I didn’t have any. So I went on the
+street--You know how it is.”
+
+“Tell us about it,” said the doctor. “This gentleman is from the
+country.”
+
+“Is that so?” said the girl. “I never supposed there was anyone who
+didn’t know about such things. Well, I took the part of a little
+working-girl. A very simple dress--things I had made especially for
+that--a little bundle in a black napkin carried in my hand--so I walked
+along where the shops are. It’s tiresome, because to do it right, you
+have to patter along fast. Then I stop before a shop, and nine times out
+of ten, there you are! A funny thing is that the men--you’d imagine
+they had agreed on the words to approach you with. They have only two
+phrases; they never vary them. It’s either, ‘You are going fast, little
+one.’ Or it’s, ‘Aren’t you afraid all alone?’ One thing or the other.
+One knows pretty well what they mean. Isn’t it so?” The girl paused,
+then went on. “Again, I would get myself up as a young widow. There,
+too, one has to walk fast: I don’t know why that should be so, but it
+is. After a minute or two of conversation, they generally find out that
+I am not a young widow, but that doesn’t make any difference--they go on
+just the same.”
+
+“Who are the men?” asked the deputy. “Clerks? Traveling salesmen?”
+
+“Not much,” she responded. “I keep a lookout for gentlemen--like
+yourself.”
+
+“They SAY they are gentlemen,” he suggested.
+
+“Sometimes I can see it,” was the response. “Sometimes they wear orders.
+It’s funny--if they have on a ribbon when you first notice them, they
+follow you, and presto--the ribbon is gone! I always laugh over that.
+I’ve watched them in the glass of the shop windows. They try to look
+unconcerned, but as they walk along they snap out the ribbon with their
+thumb--as one shells little peas, you know.”
+
+She paused; then, as no one joined in her laugh, she continued, “Well,
+at last the police got after me, That’s a story that I’ve never been
+able to understand. Those filthy men gave me a nasty disease, and then I
+was to be shut in prison for it! That was a little too much, it seems to
+me.”
+
+“Well,” said the doctor, grimly, “you revenged yourself on them--from
+what you have told me.”
+
+The other laughed. “Oh, yes,” she said. “I had my innings.” She turned
+to Monsieur Loches. “You want me to tell you that? Well, just on the
+very day I learned that the police were after me, I was coming home
+furious, naturally. It was on the Boulevard St. Denis, if you know the
+place--and whom do you think I met? My old master--the one who got me
+into trouble, you know. There it was, God’s own will! I said to myself,
+‘Now, my good fellow, here’s the time where you pay me what you owe me,
+and with interest, too!’ I put on a little smile--oh, it didn’t take
+very long, you may be sure!”
+
+The woman paused; her face darkened, and she went on, in a voice
+trembling with agitation: “When I had left him, I was seized with a
+rage. A sort of madness got into my blood. I took on all the men who
+offered themselves, for whatever they offered me, for nothing, if they
+didn’t offer me anything. I took as many as I could, the youngest ones
+and the handsomest ones. Just so! I only gave them back what they had
+given to me. And since that time I haven’t really cared about anyone any
+more. I just turned it all into a joke.” She paused, and then looking
+at the deputy, and reading in his face the horror with which he was
+regarding her, “Oh, I am not the only one!” she exclaimed. “There
+are lots of other women who do the same. To be sure, it is not for
+vengeance--it is because they must have something to eat. For even if
+you have syphilis, you have to eat, don’t you? Eh?”
+
+She had turned to the doctor, but he did not answer. There was a long
+silence; and then thinking that his friend, the deputy, had heard enough
+for one session, the doctor rose. He dismissed the woman, the cause of
+all George Dupont’s misfortunes, and turning to Monsieur Loches, said:
+“It was on purpose that I brought that wretched prostitute before
+you. In her the whole story is summed up--not merely the story of your
+son-in-law, but that of all the victims of the red plague. That woman
+herself is a victim, and she is a symbol of the evil which we have
+created and which falls upon our own heads again. I could add nothing to
+her story, I only ask you, Monsieur Loches--when next you are proposing
+new laws in the Chamber of Deputies, not to forget the horrors which
+that poor woman has exposed to you!”
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg’s Damaged Goods, by Upton Sinclair and Eugene Brieux
+
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+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
+
+<!DOCTYPE html
+   PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      Damaged Goods, by Upton Sinclair
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+Project Gutenberg's Damaged Goods, by Upton Sinclair and Eugene Brieux
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Damaged Goods
+       A novelization of the play "Les Avaries"
+
+Author: Upton Sinclair
+        Eugene Brieux
+
+Release Date: August 16, 2008 [EBook #1157]
+Last Updated: October 13, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAMAGED GOODS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by John P. Roberts, III, and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      DAMAGED GOODS
+    </h1>
+    <h2>
+      The Great Play &ldquo;Les Avaries&rdquo; of Eugene Brieux
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      Novelized with the approval of the author
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      by Upton Sinclair
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      THE PRODUCTION OF EUGENE BRIEUX&rsquo;S PLAY, &ldquo;LES AVARIES,&rdquo; OR, TO GIVE IT ITS
+      ENGLISH TITLE, &ldquo;DAMAGED GOODS,&rdquo; HAS INITIATED A MOVEMENT IN THIS COUNTRY
+      WHICH MUST BE REGARDED AS EPOCH-MAKING.&mdash;New York Times
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      +++Page 4 is a virtually unreadable letter in handwritten script from M.
+      Brieux.+++
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      Contents
+    </h2>
+    <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto">
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a>
+          </p>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> PRESS COMMENTS ON THE PLAY </a>
+          </p>
+          <br />
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a>
+          </p>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a>
+          </p>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a>
+          </p>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a>
+          </p>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a>
+          </p>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a>
+          </p>
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+    </table>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      PREFACE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      My endeavor has been to tell a simple story, preserving as closely as
+      possible the spirit and feeling of the original. I have tried, as it were,
+      to take the play to pieces, and build a novel out of the same material. I
+      have not felt at liberty to embellish M. Brieux&rsquo;s ideas, and I have used
+      his dialogue word for word wherever possible. Unless I have mis-read the
+      author, his sole purpose in writing LES AVARIES was to place a number of
+      most important facts before the minds of the public, and to drive them
+      home by means of intense emotion. If I have been able to assist him, this
+      bit of literary carpentering will be worth while. I have to thank M.
+      Brieux for his kind permission to make the attempt, and for the cordial
+      spirit which he has manifested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Upton Sinclair
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PRESS COMMENTS ON THE PLAY
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      DAMAGED GOODS was first presented in America at a Friday matinee on March
+      14th, 1913, in the Fulton Theater, New York, before members of the
+      Sociological Fund. Immediately it was acclaimed by public press and pulpit
+      as the greatest contribution ever made by the Stage to the cause of
+      humanity. Mr. Richard Bennett, the producer, who had the courage to
+      present the play, with the aid of his co-workers, in the face of most
+      savage criticism from the ignorant, was overwhelmed with requests for a
+      repetition of the performance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Before deciding whether of not to present DAMAGED GOODS before the general
+      public, it was arranged that the highest officials in the United States
+      should pass judgment upon the manner in which the play teaches its vital
+      lesson. A special guest performance for members of the Cabinet, members of
+      both houses of Congress, members of the United States Supreme Court,
+      representatives of the Diplomatic corps and others prominent in national
+      life was given in Washington, D.C.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Although the performance was given on a Sunday afternoon (April 6, 1913),
+      the National Theater was crowded to the very doors with the most
+      distinguished audience ever assembled in America, including exclusively
+      the foremost men and women of the Capital. The most noted clergymen of
+      Washington were among the spectators.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The result of this remarkable performance was a tremendous endorsement of
+      the play and of the manner in which Mr. Bennett and his co-workers were
+      presenting it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This reception resulted in the continuance of the New York performances
+      until mid-summer and is responsible for the decision on the part of Mr.
+      Bennett to offer the play in every city in America where citizens feel
+      that the ultimate welfare of the community is dependent upon a higher
+      standard of morality and clearer understanding of the laws of health.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The WASHINGTON POST, commenting on the Washington performance, said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The play was presented with all the impressiveness of a sermon; with all
+      the vigor and dynamic force of a great drama; with all the earnestness and
+      power of a vital truth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In many respects the presentation of this dramatization of a great social
+      evil assumed the aspects of a religious service. Dr. Donald C. Macleod,
+      pastor of the First Presbyterian Church, mounted the rostrum usually
+      occupied by the leader of the orchestra, and announced that the nature of
+      the performance, the sacredness of the play, and the character of the
+      audience gave to the play the significance of a tremendous sermon in
+      behalf of mankind, and that as such it was eminently fitting that a divine
+      blessing be invoked. Dr. Earle Wilfley, pastor of the Vermont Avenue
+      Christian Church, asked all persons in the audience to bow their heads in
+      a prayer for the proper reception of the message to be presented from the
+      stage. Dr. MacLeod then read the Bernard Shaw preface to the play, and
+      asked that there be no applause during the performance, a suggestion which
+      was rigidly followed, thus adding greatly to the effectiveness and the
+      seriousness of the dramatic portrayal.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The impression made upon the audience by the remarkable play is reflected
+      in such comments as the following expressions voiced after the
+      performance:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      RABBI SIMON, OF THE WASHINGTON HEBREW CONGREGATION&mdash;If I could preach
+      from my pulpit a sermon one tenth as powerful, as convincing, as
+      far-reaching, and as helpful as this performance of DAMAGED GOODS must be,
+      I would consider that I had achieved the triumph of my life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      COMMISSIONER CUNO H. RUDOLPH&mdash;I was deeply impressed by what I saw,
+      and I think that the drama should be repeated in every city, a matinee one
+      day for father and son and the next day for mother and daughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      REV. EARLE WILFLEY&mdash;I am confirmed in the opinion that we must take
+      up our cudgels in a crusade against the modern problems brought to the
+      fore by DAMAGED GOODS. The report that these diseases are increasing is
+      enough to make us get busy on a campaign against them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      SURGEON GENERAL BLUE&mdash;It was a most striking and telling lesson. For
+      years we have been fighting these condition in the navy. It is high time
+      that civilians awakened to the dangers surrounding them and crusaded
+      against them in a proper manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MRS. ARCHIBALD HOPKINS&mdash;The play was a powerful presentation of a
+      very important question and was handled in a most admirable manner. The
+      drama is a fine entering wedge for this crusade and is bound to do
+      considerable good in conveying information of a very serious nature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      MINISTER PEZET, OF PERU&mdash;There can be no doubt but that the
+      performance will have great uplifting power, and accomplish the good for
+      which it was created. Fortunately, we do not have the prudery in South
+      America that you of the north possess, and have open minds to consider
+      these serious questions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      JUSTICE DANIEL THEW WRIGHT&mdash;I feel quite sure that DAMAGED GOODS will
+      have considerable effect in educating the people of the nature of the
+      danger that surrounds them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      SENATOR KERN, OF INDIANA&mdash;There can be no denial of the fact that it
+      is time to look at the serious problems presented in the play with an open
+      mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Brieux has been hailed by Bernard Shaw as &ldquo;incomparably the greatest
+      writer France has produced since Moliere,&rdquo; and perhaps no writer ever
+      wielded his pen more earnestly in the service of the race. To quote from
+      an article by Edwin E. Slosson in the INDEPENDENT:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Brieux is not one who believes that social evils are to be cured by laws
+      and yet more laws. He believes that most of the trouble is caused by
+      ignorance and urges education, public enlightenment and franker
+      recognition of existing conditions. All this may be needed, but still we
+      may well doubt its effectiveness as a remedy. The drunken Helot argument
+      is not a strong one, and those who lead a vicious life know more about its
+      risks than any teacher or preacher could tell them. Brieux also urges the
+      requirement of health certificates for marriage, such as many clergymen
+      now insist upon and which doubtless will be made compulsory before long in
+      many of our States.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Brieux paints in black colors yet is no fanatic; in fact, he will be
+      criticised by many as being too tolerant of human weakness. The conditions
+      of society and the moral standards of France are so different from those
+      of America that his point of view and his proposals for reform will not
+      meet with general acceptance, but it is encouraging to find a dramatist
+      who realizes the importance of being earnest and who uses his art in
+      defense of virtue instead of its destruction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Other comments follow, showing the great interest manifested in the play
+      and the belief in the highest seriousness of its purpose:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There is no uncleanness in facts. The uncleanness is in the glamour, in
+      the secret imagination. It is in hints, half-truths, and suggestions the
+      threat to life lies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This play puts the horrible truth in so living a way, with such clean,
+      artistic force, that the mind is impressed as it could possibly be
+      impressed in no other manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Best of all, it is the physician who dominates the action. There is no
+      sentimentalizing. There is no weak and morbid handling of the theme. The
+      doctor appears in his ideal function, as the modern high-priest of truth.
+      Around him writhe the victims of ignorance and the criminals of
+      conventional cruelty. Kind, stern, high-minded, clear-headed, yet
+      human-hearted, he towers over all, as the master.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This is as it should be. The man to say the word to save the world of
+      ignorant wretches, cursed by the clouds and darkness a mistaken modesty
+      has thrown around a life-and-death instinct, is the physician.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The only question is this: Is this play decent? My answer is that it is
+      the decentest play that has been in New York for a year. It is so decent
+      that it is religious.&mdash;HEARST&rsquo;S MAGAZINE.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The play is, above all, a powerful plea for the tearing away of the veil
+      of mystery that has so universally shrouded this subject of the penalty of
+      sexual immorality. It is a plea for light on this hidden danger, that
+      fathers and mothers, young men and young women, may know the terrible
+      price that must be paid, not only by the generation that violates the law,
+      but by the generations to come. It is a serious question just how the
+      education of men and women, especially young men and young women, in the
+      vital matters of sex relationship should be carried on. One thing is sure,
+      however. The worst possible way is the one which has so often been
+      followed in the past&mdash;not to carry it on at all but to ignore it.&mdash;THE
+      OUTLOOK.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It (DAMAGED GOODS) is, of course, a masterpiece of &ldquo;thesis drama,&rdquo;&mdash;an
+      argument, dogmatic, insistent, inescapable, cumulative, between science
+      and common sense, on one side, and love, of various types, on the other.
+      It is what Mr. Bernard Shaw has called a &ldquo;drama of discussion&rdquo;; it has the
+      splendid movement of the best Shaw plays, unrelieved&mdash;and undiluted&mdash;by
+      Shavian paradox, wit, and irony. We imagine that many audiences at the
+      Fulton Theater were astonished at the play&rsquo;s showing of sheer strength as
+      acted drama. Possibly it might not interest the general public; probably
+      it would be inadvisable to present it to them. But no thinking person,
+      with the most casual interest in current social evils, could listen to the
+      version of Richard Bennett, Wilton Lackaye, and their associates, without
+      being gripped by the power of Brieux&rsquo;s message.&mdash;THE DIAL.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is a wonder that the world has been so long in getting hold of this
+      play, which is one of France&rsquo;s most valuable contributions to the drama.
+      Its history is interesting. Brieux wrote it over ten years ago. Antoine
+      produced it at his theater and Paris immediately censored it, but soon
+      thought better of it and removed the ban. During the summer of 1910 it was
+      played in Brussels before crowded houses, for then the city was thronged
+      with visitors to the exposition. Finally New York got it last spring and
+      eugenic enthusiasts and doctors everywhere have welcomed it. &mdash;THE
+      INDEPENDENT.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A letter to Mr. Bennett from Dr. Hills, Pastor of Plymouth Church,
+      Brooklyn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      23 Monroe Street Bklyn. August 1, 1913.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Richard Bennett, New York City, N.Y. My Dear Mr. Bennett:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      During the past twenty-one years since I entered public life, I have
+      experienced many exciting hours under the influence of reformer, orator
+      and actor, but, in this mood of retrospection, I do not know that I have
+      ever passed through a more thrilling, terrible, and yet hopeful experience
+      than last evening, while I listened to your interpretation of Eugene
+      Brieux&rsquo; &ldquo;DAMAGED GOODS.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I have been following your work with ever deepening interest. It is not
+      too much to say that you have changed the thinking of the people of our
+      country as to the social evil. At last, thank God, this conspiracy of
+      silence is ended. No young man who sees &ldquo;Damaged Goods&rdquo; will ever be the
+      same again. If I wanted to build around an innocent boy buttresses of fire
+      and granite, and lend him triple armour against temptation and the
+      assaults of evil, I would put him for one evening under your influence.
+      That which the teacher, the preacher and the parent have failed to
+      accomplish it has been given to you to achieve. You have done a work for
+      which your generation owes you an immeasurable debt of gratitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I shall be delighted to have you use my Study of Social Diseases and
+      Heredity in connection with your great reform.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With all good wishes, I am, my dear Mr. Bennett, Faithfully yours,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Newell Dwight Hillis
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was four o&rsquo;clock in the morning when George Dupont closed the door and
+      came down the steps to the street. The first faint streaks of dawn were in
+      the sky, and he noticed this with annoyance, because he knew that his hair
+      was in disarray and his whole aspect disorderly; yet he dared not take a
+      cab, because he feared to attract attention at home. When he reached the
+      sidewalk, he glanced about him to make sure that no one had seen him leave
+      the house, then started down the street, his eyes upon the sidewalk before
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George had the feeling of the morning after. There are few men in this
+      world of abundant sin who will not know what the phrase means. The fumes
+      of the night had evaporated; he was quite sober now, quite free from
+      excitement. He saw what he had done, and it seemed to him something black
+      and disgusting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Never had a walk seemed longer than the few blocks which he had to
+      traverse to reach his home. He must get there before the maid was up,
+      before the baker&rsquo;s boy called with the rolls; otherwise, what explanation
+      could he give?&mdash;he who had always been such a moral man, who had been
+      pointed out by mothers as an example to their sons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George thought of his own mother, and what she would think if she could
+      know about his night&rsquo;s adventure. He thought again and again, with a pang
+      of anguish, of Henriette. Could it be possible that a man who was engaged,
+      whose marriage contract had actually been signed, who was soon to possess
+      the love of a beautiful and noble girl&mdash;that such a man could have
+      been weak enough and base enough to let himself be trapped into such a low
+      action?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went back over the whole series of events, shuddering at them, trying
+      to realize how they had happened, trying to excuse himself for them. He
+      had not intended such a culmination; he had never meant to do such a thing
+      in his life. He had not thought of any harm when he had accepted the
+      invitation to the supper party with his old companions from the law
+      school. Of course, he had known that several of these chums led &ldquo;fast&rdquo;
+       lives&mdash;but, then, surely a fellow could go to a friend&rsquo;s rooms for a
+      lark without harm!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He remembered the girl who had sat by his side at the table. She had come
+      with a friend who was a married woman, and so he had assumed that she was
+      all right. George remembered how embarrassed he had been when first he had
+      noticed her glances at him. But then the wine had begun to go to his head&mdash;he
+      was one of those unfortunate wretches who cannot drink wine at all. He had
+      offered to take the girl home in a cab, and on the way he had lost his
+      head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh! What a wretched thing it was. He could hardly believe that it was he
+      who had spoken those frenzied words; and yet he must have spoken them,
+      because he remembered them. He remembered that it had taken a long time to
+      persuade her. He had had to promise her a ring like the one her married
+      friend wore. Before they entered her home she had made him take off his
+      shoes, so that the porter might not hear them. This had struck George
+      particularly, because, even flushed with excitement as he was, he had not
+      forgotten the warnings his father had given him as to the dangers of
+      contact with strange women. He had thought to himself, &ldquo;This girl must be
+      safe. It is probably the first time she has ever done such a thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But now George could get but little consolation out of that idea. He was
+      suffering intensely&mdash;the emotion described by the poet in the bitter
+      words about &ldquo;Time&rsquo;s moving finger having writ.&rdquo; His mind, seeking some
+      explanation, some justification, went back to the events before that
+      night. With a sudden pang of yearning, he thought of Lizette. She was a
+      decent girl, and had kept him decent, and he was lonely without her. He
+      had been so afraid of being found out that he had given her up when he
+      became engaged; but now for a while he felt that he would have to break
+      his resolution, and pay his regular Sunday visit to the little flat in the
+      working-class portion of Paris.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was while George was fitting himself for the same career as his father&mdash;that
+      of notary&mdash;that he had made the acquaintance of the young working
+      girl. It may not be easy to believe, but Lizette had really been a decent
+      girl. She had a family to take care of, and was in need. There was a
+      grandmother in poor health, a father not much better, and three little
+      brothers; so Lizette did not very long resist George Dupont, and he felt
+      quite virtuous in giving her sufficient money to take care of these
+      unfortunate people. Among people of his class it was considered proper to
+      take such things if one paid for them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the family of this working girl were grateful to him. They adored him,
+      and they called him Uncle Raoul (for of course he had not been so foolish
+      as to give them his true name).
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Since George was paying for Lizette, he felt he had the right to control
+      her life. He gave her fair warning concerning his attitude. If she
+      deceived him he would leave her immediately. He told this to her relatives
+      also, and so he had them all watching her. She was never trusted out
+      alone. Every Sunday George went to spend the day with his little &ldquo;family,&rdquo;
+       so that his coming became almost a matter of tradition. He interested her
+      in church affairs&mdash;mass and vespers were her regular occasions for
+      excursions. George rented two seats, and the grandmother went with her to
+      the services. The simple people were proud to see their name engraved upon
+      the brass plate of the pew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The reason for all these precautions was George&rsquo;s terror of disease. He
+      had been warned by his father as to the dangers which young men encounter
+      in their amours. And these lessons had sunk deep into George&rsquo;s heart; he
+      had made up his mind that whatever his friends might do, he, for one,
+      would protect himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That did not mean, of course, that he intended to live a virtuous life;
+      such was the custom among young men of his class, not had it probably ever
+      occurred to his father that it was possible for a young man to do such a
+      thing. The French have a phrase, &ldquo;l&rsquo;homme moyen sensuel&rdquo;&mdash;the average
+      sensual man. And George was such a man. He had no noble idealisms, no
+      particular reverence for women. The basis of his attitude was a purely
+      selfish one; he wanted to enjoy himself, and at the same time to keep out
+      of trouble.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not find any happiness in the renunciation which he imposed upon
+      himself; he had no religious ideas about it. On the contrary, he suffered
+      keenly, and was bitter because he had no share in the amusements of his
+      friends. He stuck to his work and forced himself to keep regular hours,
+      preparing for his law examinations. But all the time he was longing for
+      adventures. And, of course, this could not go on forever, for the motive
+      of fear alone is not sufficient to subdue the sexual urge in a
+      full-blooded young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The affair with Lizette might have continued much longer had it not been
+      for the fact that his father died. He died quite suddenly, while George
+      was away on a trip. The son came back to console his broken-hearted
+      mother, and in the two week they spent in the country together the mother
+      broached a plan to him. The last wish of the dying man had been that his
+      son should be fixed in life. In the midst of his intense suffering he had
+      been able to think about the matter, and had named the girl whom he wished
+      George to marry. Naturally, George waited with some interest to learn who
+      this might be. He was surprised when his mother told him that it was his
+      cousin, Henriette Loches.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He could not keep his emotion from revealing itself in his face. &ldquo;It
+      doesn&rsquo;t please you?&rdquo; asked his mother, with a tone disappointment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why no, mother,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s not that. It just surprises me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why?&rdquo; asked the mother. &ldquo;Henriette is a lovely girl and a good girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I know,&rdquo; said George; &ldquo;but then she is my cousin, and&mdash;&rdquo; He
+      blushed a little with embarrassment. &ldquo;I had never thought of her in that
+      way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Dupont laid her hand upon her son&rsquo;s. &ldquo;Yes, George,&rdquo; she said
+      tenderly. &ldquo;I know. You are such a good boy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, of course, George did not feel that he was quite such a good boy; but
+      his mother was a deeply religious woman, who had no idea of the truth
+      about the majority of men. She would never have got over the shock if he
+      had told her about himself, and so he had to pretend to be just what she
+      thought him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me,&rdquo; she continued, after a pause, &ldquo;have you never felt the least
+      bit in love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why no&mdash;I don&rsquo;t think so,&rdquo; George stammered, becoming conscious of a
+      sudden rise of temperature in his cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because,&rdquo; said his mother, &ldquo;it is really time that you were settled in
+      life. Your father said that we should have seen to it before, and now it
+      is my duty to see to it. It is not good for you to live alone so long.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, mother, I have YOU,&rdquo; said George generously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some day the Lord may take me away,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;I am getting old.
+      And, George, dear&mdash;&rdquo; Here suddenly her voice began to tremble with
+      feeling&mdash;&ldquo;I would like to see my baby grandchildren before I go. You
+      cannot imagine what it would mean to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Dupont saw how much this subject distressed her son, so she went on
+      to the more worldly aspects of the matter. Henriette&rsquo;s father was
+      well-to-do, and he would give her a good dowry. She was a charming and
+      accomplished girl. Everybody would consider him most fortunate if the
+      match could be arranged. Also, there was an elderly aunt to whom Madame
+      Dupont had spoken, and who was much taken with the idea. She owned a great
+      deal of property and would surely help the young couple.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George did not see just how he could object to this proposition, even if
+      he had wanted to. What reason could he give for such a course? He could
+      not explain that he already had a family&mdash;with stepchildren, so to
+      speak, who adored him. And what could he say to his mother&rsquo;s obsession, to
+      which she came back again and again&mdash;her longing to see her
+      grandchildren before she died? Madame Dupont waited only long enough for
+      George to stammer out a few protestations, and then in the next breath to
+      take them back; after which she proceeded to go ahead with the match. The
+      family lawyers conferred together, and the terms of the settlement were
+      worked out and agreed upon. It happened that immediately afterwards George
+      learned of an opportunity to purchase the practice of a notary, who was
+      ready to retire from business in two months&rsquo; time. Henriette&rsquo;s father
+      consented to advance a portion of her dowry for this purpose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus George was safely started upon the same career as his father, and
+      this was to him a source of satisfaction which he did not attempt to deny,
+      either to himself of to any one else. George was a cautious young man, who
+      came of a frugal and saving stock. He had always been taught that it was
+      his primary duty to make certain of a reasonable amount of comfort. From
+      his earliest days, he had been taught to regard material success as the
+      greatest goal in life, and he would never have dreamed of engaging himself
+      to a girl without money. But when he had the good fortune to meet one who
+      possessed desirable personal qualities in addition to money, he was not in
+      the least barred from appreciating those qualities. They were, so to
+      speak, the sauce which went with the meat, and it seemed to him that in
+      this case the sauce was of the very best.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George&mdash;a big fellow of twenty-six, with large, round eyes and a
+      good-natured countenance&mdash;was full blooded, well fed, with a hearty
+      laugh which spoke of unimpaired contentment, a soul untroubled in its
+      deeps. He seemed to himself the luckiest fellow in the whole round world;
+      he could not think what he had done to deserve the good fortune of
+      possessing such a girl as Henriette. He was ordinarily of a somewhat
+      sentimental turn&mdash;easily influenced by women and sensitive to their
+      charms. Moreover, his relationship with Lizette had softened him. He had
+      learned to love the young working girl, and now Henriette, it seemed, was
+      to reap the benefit of his experience with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In fact, he found himself always with memories of Lizette in his
+      relationships with the girl who was to be his wife. When the engagement
+      was announced, and he claimed his first kiss from his bride-to-be, as he
+      placed a ring upon her finger, he remembered the first time he had kissed
+      Lizette, and a double blush suffused his round countenance. When he walked
+      arm and arm with Henriette in the garden he remembered how he had walked
+      just so with the other girl, and he was interested to compare the words of
+      the two. He remembered what a good time had had when he had taken Lizette
+      and her little family for a picnic upon one of the excursion steamers
+      which run down the River Seine. Immediately he decided that he would like
+      to take Henriette on such a picnic, and he persuaded an aunt of
+      Henriette&rsquo;s to go with her as a chaperon. George took his bride-to-be to
+      the same little inn where he had lunch before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus he was always haunted by memories, some of which made him cheerful
+      and some of which made him mildly sad. He soon got used to the idea, and
+      did not find it awkward, except when he had to suppress the impulse to
+      tell Henriette something which Lizette had said, or some funny incident
+      which had happened in the home of the little family. Sometimes he found
+      himself thinking that it was a shame to have to suppress these impulses.
+      There must be something wrong, he thought, with a social system which made
+      it necessary for him to hide a thing which was so obvious and so sensible.
+      Here he was, a man twenty-six years of age; he could not have afforded to
+      marry earlier, nor could he, as he thought, have been expected to lead a
+      continent life. And he had really loved Lizette; she was really a good
+      girl. Yet, if Henriette had got any idea of it, she would have been
+      horrified and indignant&mdash;she might even have broken off the
+      engagement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then, too, there was Henriette&rsquo;s father, a personage of great dignity
+      and importance. M. Loches was a deputy of the French Parliament, from a
+      district in the provinces. He was a man of upright life, and a man who
+      made a great deal of that upright life&mdash;keeping it on a pedestal
+      where everyone might observe it. It was impossible to imagine M. Loches in
+      an undignified or compromising situation&mdash;such as the younger man
+      found himself facing in the matter of Lizette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The more he thought about it the more nervous and anxious George became.
+      Then it was decided it would be necessary for him to break with the girl,
+      and be &ldquo;good&rdquo; until the time of his marriage. Dear little soft-eyed
+      Lizette&mdash;he did not dare to face her personally; he could never bear
+      to say good-by, he felt. Instead, he went to the father, who as a man
+      could be expected to understand the situation. George was embarrassed and
+      not a little nervous about it; for although he had never misrepresented
+      his attitude to the family, one could never feel entirely free from the
+      possibility of blackmail in such cases. However, Lizette&rsquo;s father behaved
+      decently, and was duly grateful for the moderate sum of money which George
+      handed him in parting. He promised to break the news gently to Lizette,
+      and George went away with his mind made up that he would never see her
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This resolution he kept, and he considered himself very virtuous in doing
+      it. But the truth was that he had grown used to intimacy with a woman, and
+      was restless without it. And that, he told himself, was why he yielded to
+      the shameful temptation the night of that fatal supper party.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He paid for the misadventure liberally in remorse. He felt that he had
+      been a wretch, that he had disgraced himself forever, that he had proved
+      himself unworthy of the pure girl he was to marry. So keen was his feeling
+      that it was several days before he could bring himself to see Henriette
+      again; and when he went, it was with a mind filled with a brand-new set of
+      resolutions. It was the last time that he would ever fall into error. He
+      would be a new man from then on. He thanked God that there was no chance
+      of his sin being known, that he might have an opportunity to prove his new
+      determination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So intense were his feelings that he could not help betraying a part of
+      them to Henriette. They sat in the garden one soft summer evening, with
+      Henriette&rsquo;s mother occupied with her crocheting at a decorous distance.
+      George, in reverent and humble mood, began to drop vague hints that he was
+      really unworthy of his bride-to-be. He said that he had not always been as
+      good as he should have been; he said that her purity and sweetness had
+      awakened in him new ideals; so that he felt his old life had been full of
+      blunders. Henriette, of course, had but the vaguest of ideas as to what
+      the blunders of a tender and generous young man like George might be. So
+      she only loved him the more for his humility, and was flattered to have
+      such a fine effect upon him, to awaken in him such moods of exaltation.
+      When he told her that all men were bad, and that no man was worthy of such
+      a beautiful love, she was quite ravished, and wiped away tears from her
+      eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It would have been a shame to spoil such a heavenly mood by telling the
+      real truth. Instead, George contented himself with telling of the new
+      resolutions he had formed. After all, they were the things which really
+      mattered; for Henriette was going to live with his future, not with his
+      past.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed to George a most wonderful thing, this innocence of a young
+      girl, which enabled her to move through a world of wickedness with
+      unpolluted mind. It was a touching thing; and also, as a prudent young man
+      could not help realizing, a most convenient thing. He realized the
+      importance of preserving it, and thought that if he ever had a daughter,
+      he would protect her as rigidly as Henriette had been protected. He made
+      haste to shy off from the subject of his &ldquo;badness&rdquo; and to turn the
+      conversation with what seemed a clever jest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I am going to be so good,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t forget that you will have
+      to be good also!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will try,&rdquo; said Henriette, who was still serious.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will have to try hard,&rdquo; he persisted. &ldquo;You will find that you have a
+      very jealous husband.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will I?&rdquo; said Henriette, beaming with happiness&mdash;for when a woman is
+      very much in love she doesn&rsquo;t in the least object to the man&rsquo;s being
+      jealous.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, indeed,&rdquo; smiled George. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll always be watching you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Watching me?&rdquo; echoed the girl with a surprised look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And immediately he felt ashamed of himself for his jest. There could be no
+      need to watch Henriette, and it was bad taste even to joke about it at
+      such a time. That was one of the ideas which he had brought with him from
+      his world of evil.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The truth was, however, that George would always be a suspicious husband;
+      nothing could ever change that fact, for there was something in his own
+      conscience which he could not get out, and which would make it impossible
+      for him to be at ease as a married man. It was the memory of something
+      which had happened earlier in his life before he met Lizette. There had
+      been one earlier experience, with the wife of his dearest friend. She had
+      been much younger than her husband, and had betrayed an interest in
+      George, who had yielded to the temptation. For several years the intrigue
+      continued, and George considered it a good solution of a young man&rsquo;s
+      problem. There had been no danger of contamination, for he knew that his
+      friend was a man of pure and rigid morals, a jealous man who watched his
+      wife, and did not permit her to contract those new relations which are
+      always dangerous. As for George, he helped in this worthy work, keeping
+      the woman in terror of some disease. He told her that almost all men were
+      infected, for he hoped by this means to keep her from deceiving him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I am aware that this may seem a dreadful story. As I do not want anyone to
+      think too ill of George Dupont, I ought, perhaps, to point out that people
+      feel differently about these matters in France. In judging the unfortunate
+      young man, we must judge him by the customs of his own country, and not by
+      ours. In France, they are accustomed to what is called the MARIAGE DE
+      CONVENANCE. The young girl is not permitted to go about and make her own
+      friends and decide which one of them she prefers for her husband; on the
+      contrary, she is strictly guarded, her training often is of a religious
+      nature, and her marriage is a matter of business, to be considered and
+      decided by her parents and those of the young man. Now, whatever we may
+      think right, it is humanly certain that where marriages are made in that
+      way, the need of men and women for sympathy and for passionate interest
+      will often lead to the forming of irregular relationships after marriage.
+      It is not possible to present statistics as to the number of such
+      irregular relationships in Parisian society; but in the books which he
+      read and in the plays which he saw, George found everything to encourage
+      him to think that it was a romantic and delightful thing to keep up a
+      secret intrigue with the wife of his best friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It should also, perhaps, be pointed out that we are here telling the
+      truth, and the whole truth, about George Dupont; and that it is not
+      customary to tell this about men, either in real life or in novels. There
+      is a great deal of concealment in the world about matters of sex; and in
+      such matters the truth-telling man is apt to suffer in reputation in
+      comparison with the truth-concealing one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nor had George really been altogether callous about the thing. It had
+      happened that his best friend had died in his arms; and this had so
+      affected the guilty pair that they had felt their relationship was no
+      longer possible. She had withdrawn to nurse her grief alone, and George
+      had been so deeply affected that he had avoided affairs and entanglements
+      with women until his meeting with Lizette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this was now in the far distant past, but it had made a deeper
+      impression upon George than he perhaps realized, and it was now working in
+      his mind and marring his happiness. Here was a girl who loved him with a
+      noble and unselfish and whole-hearted love&mdash;and yet he would never be
+      able to trust her as she deserved, but would always have suspicions
+      lurking in the back of his mind. He would be unable to have his friends
+      intimate in his home, because of the memory of what he had once done to a
+      friend. It was a subtle kind of punishment. But so it is that Nature often
+      finds ways of punishing us, without our even being aware of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was all for the future, however. At present, George was happy. He put
+      his black sin behind him, feeling that he had obtained absolution by his
+      confession to Henriette. Day by day, as he realized his good fortune, his
+      round face beamed with more and yet more joy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went for a little trip to Henriette&rsquo;s home in the country. It was a
+      simple village, and they took walks in the country, and stopped to refresh
+      themselves at a farmhouse occupied by one of M. Loches&rsquo; tenants. Here was
+      a rosy and buxom peasant woman, with a nursing child in her arms. She was
+      destined a couple of years later to be the foster-mother of Henriette&rsquo;s
+      little girl and to play an important part in her life. But the pair had no
+      idea of that at present. They simply saw a proud and happy mother, and
+      Henriette played with the baby, giving vent to childish delight. Then
+      suddenly she looked up and saw that George was watching her, and as she
+      read his thoughts a beautiful blush suffused her cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for George, he turned away and went out under the blue sky in a kind of
+      ecstasy. Life seemed very wonderful to him just then; he had found its
+      supreme happiness, which was love. He was really getting quite mad about
+      Henriette, he told himself. He could hardly believe that the day was
+      coming when he would be able to clasp her in his arms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But in the blue sky of George&rsquo;s happiness there was one little cloud of
+      storm. As often happens with storm-clouds, it was so small that at first
+      he paid no attention to it at all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He noted upon his body one day a tiny ulcer. At first he treated it with
+      salve purchased from an apothecary. Then after a week or two, when this
+      had no effect, he began to feel uncomfortable. He remembered suddenly he
+      had heard about the symptoms of an unmentionable, dreadful disease, and a
+      vague terror took possession of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For days he tried to put it to one side. The idea was nonsense, it was
+      absurd in connection with a woman so respectable! But the thought would
+      not be put away, and finally he went to a school friend, who was a man of
+      the world, and got him to talk on the subject. Of course, George had to be
+      careful, so that his friend should not suspect that he had any special
+      purpose in mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The friend was willing to talk. It was a vile disease, he said; but one
+      was foolish to bother about it, because it was so rare. There were other
+      diseases which fellows got, which nearly every fellow had, and to which
+      none of them paid any attention. But one seldom met anyone who had the red
+      plague that George dreaded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And yet,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;according to the books, it isn&rsquo;t so uncommon. I
+      suppose the truth is that people hide it. A chap naturally wouldn&rsquo;t tell,
+      when he knew it would damn him for life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George had a sick sensation inside of him. &ldquo;Is it as bad as that?&rdquo; he
+      asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;Should you want to have anything to do with
+      a person who had it? Should you be willing to room with him or travel with
+      him? You wouldn&rsquo;t even want to shake hands with him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I suppose not,&rdquo; said George, feebly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I remember,&rdquo; continued the other, &ldquo;an old fellow who used to live out in
+      the country near me. He was not so very old, either, but he looked it. He
+      had to be pushed around in a wheel-chair. People said he had locomotor
+      ataxia, but that really meant syphilis. We boys used to poke all kinds of
+      fun at him because one windy day his hat and his wig were blown off
+      together, and we discovered that he was as bald as an egg. We used to make
+      jokes about his automobile, as we called it. It had a little handle in
+      front, instead of a steering-wheel, and a man behind to push, instead of
+      an engine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How horrible!&rdquo; remarked George with genuine feeling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I remember the poor devil had a paralysis soon after,&rdquo; continued the
+      friend, quite carelessly. &ldquo;He could not steer any more, and also he lost
+      his voice. When you met him he would look at you as it he thought he was
+      talking, but all he could say was &lsquo;Ga-ga-ga&rsquo;.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George went away from this conversation in a cold sweat. He told himself
+      over and over again that he was a fool, but still he could not get the
+      hellish idea out of his mind. He found himself brooding over it all day
+      and lying awake at night, haunted by images of himself in a wheel-chair,
+      and without any hair on his head. He realized that the sensible thing
+      would be for him to go to a doctor and make certain about his condition;
+      but he could not bring himself to face the ordeal&mdash;he was ashamed to
+      admit to a doctor that he had laid himself open to such a taint.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He began to lose the radiant expression from his round and rosy face. He
+      had less appetite, and his moods of depression became so frequent that he
+      could not hide then even from Henriette. She asked him once or twice if
+      there were not something the matter with him, and he laughed&mdash;a
+      forced and hurried laugh&mdash;and told her that he had sat up too late
+      the night before, worrying over the matter of his examinations. Oh, what a
+      cruel thing it was that a man who stood in the very gateway of such a
+      garden of delight should be tormented and made miserable by this loathsome
+      idea!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The disturbing symptom still continued, and so at last George purchased a
+      medical book, dealing with the subject of the disease. Then, indeed, he
+      opened up a chamber of horrors; he made up his mind an abiding place of
+      ghastly images. In the book there were pictures of things so awful that he
+      turned white, and trembled like a leaf, and had to close the volume and
+      hide it in the bottom of his trunk. But he could not banish the pictures
+      from his mind. Worst of all, he could not forget the description of the
+      first symptom of the disease, which seemed to correspond exactly with his
+      own. So at last he made up his mind he must ascertain definitely the truth
+      about his condition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He began to think over plans for seeing a doctor. He had heard somewhere a
+      story about a young fellow who had fallen into the hands of a quack, and
+      been ruined forever. So he decided that he would consult only the best
+      authority.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He got the names of the best-known works on the subject from a bookstore,
+      and found that the author of one of these books was practicing in Paris as
+      a specialist. Two or three days elapsed before he was able to get up the
+      courage to call on this doctor. And oh, the shame and horror of sitting in
+      his waiting-room with the other people, none of whom dared to look each
+      other in the eyes! They must all be afflicted, George thought, and he
+      glanced at them furtively, looking for the various symptoms of which he
+      had read. Or were there, perhaps, some like himself&mdash;merely victims
+      of a foolish error, coming to have the hag of dread pulled from off their
+      backs?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then suddenly, while he was speculating, there stood the doctor,
+      signaling to him. His turn had come!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The doctor was a man about forty years of age, robust, with every
+      appearance of a strong character. In the buttonhole of the frock coat he
+      wore was a red rosette, the decoration of some order. Confused and nervous
+      as George was, he got a vague impression of the physician&rsquo;s richly
+      furnished office, with its bronzes, marbles and tapestries.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor signaled to the young man to be seated in the chair before his
+      desk. George complied, and then, as he wiped away the perspiration from
+      his forehead, stammered out a few words, explaining his errand. Of course,
+      he said, it could not be true, but it was a man&rsquo;s duty not to take any
+      chances in such a matter. &ldquo;I have not been a man of loose life,&rdquo; he added;
+      &ldquo;I have not taken so many chances as other men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor cut him short with the brief remark that one chance was all
+      that was necessary. Instead of discussing such questions, he would make an
+      examination. &ldquo;We do not say positively in these cases until we have made a
+      blood test. That is the one way to avoid the possibility of mistake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A drop of blood was squeezed out of George&rsquo;s finger on to a little glass
+      plate. The doctor retired to an adjoining room, and the victim sat alone
+      in the office, deriving no enjoyment from the works of art which
+      surrounded him, but feeling like a prisoner who sits in the dock with his
+      life at stake while the jury deliberates.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor returned, calm and impassive, and seated himself in his
+      office-chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, doctor?&rdquo; asked George. He was trembling with terror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; was the reply, &ldquo;there is no doubt whatever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George wiped his forehead. He could not credit the words. &ldquo;No doubt
+      whatever? In what sense?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the bad sense,&rdquo; said the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He began to write a prescription, without seeming to notice how George
+      turned page with terror. &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; he said, after a silence, &ldquo;you must have
+      known the truth pretty well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, sir!&rdquo; exclaimed George.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;you have syphilis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George was utterly stunned. &ldquo;My God!&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor, having finished his prescription, looked up and observed his
+      condition. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t trouble yourself, sir. Out of every seven men you meet
+      upon the street, in society, or at the theater, there is at least one who
+      has been in your condition. One out of seven&mdash;fifteen per cent!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George was staring before him. He spoke low, as if to himself. &ldquo;I know
+      what I am going to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I know also,&rdquo; said the doctor, with a smile. &ldquo;There is your
+      prescription. You are going to take it to the drugstore and have it put
+      up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George took the prescription, mechanically, but whispered, &ldquo;No, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, you are going to do as everybody else does.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, because my situation is not that of everybody else. I know what I am
+      going to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Said the doctor: &ldquo;Five times out of ten, in the chair where you are
+      sitting, people talk like that, perfectly sincerely. Each one believes
+      himself more unhappy than all the others; but after thinking it over, and
+      listening to me, they understand that this disease is a companion with
+      whom one can live. Just as in every household, one gets along at the cost
+      of mutual concessions, that&rsquo;s all. Come, sir, I tell you again, there is
+      nothing about it that is not perfectly ordinary, perfectly natural,
+      perfectly common; it is an accident which can happen to any one. It is a
+      great mistake that people speak if this as the &lsquo;French Disease,&rsquo; for there
+      is none which is more universal. Under the picture of this disease,
+      addressing myself to those who follow the oldest profession in the world,
+      I would write the famous phrase: &lsquo;Here is your master. It is, it was, or
+      it must be.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George was putting the prescription into the outside pocket of his coat,
+      stupidly, as if he did not know what he was doing. &ldquo;But, sir,&rdquo; he
+      exclaimed, &ldquo;I should have been spared!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; inquired the other. &ldquo;Because you are a man of position, because you
+      are rich? Look around you, sir. See these works of art in my room. Do you
+      imagine that such things have been presented to me by chimney-sweeps?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Doctor,&rdquo; cried George, with a moan, &ldquo;I have never been a libertine.
+      There was never any one, you understand me, never any one could have been
+      more careful in his pleasures. If I were to tell you that in all my life I
+      have only had two mistresses, what would you answer to that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would answer, that a single one would have been sufficient to bring you
+      to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir!&rdquo; cried George. &ldquo;It could not have been either of those women.&rdquo;
+       He went on to tell the doctor about his first mistress, and then about
+      Lizette. Finally he told about Henriette, how much he adored her. He could
+      really use such a word&mdash;he loved her most tenderly. She was so good&mdash;and
+      he had thought himself so lucky!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he went on, he could hardly keep from going to pieces. &ldquo;I had
+      everything,&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;everything a man needed! All who knew me
+      envied me. And then I had to let those fellows drag me off to that
+      miserable supper-party! And now here I am! My future is ruined, my whole
+      existence poisoned! What is to become of me? Everybody will avoid me&mdash;I
+      shall be a pariah, a leper!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He paused, and then in sudden wild grief exclaimed, &ldquo;Come, now! Would it
+      not be better that I should take myself out of the way? At least, I should
+      not suffer any more. You see that there could not be any one more unhappy
+      than myself&mdash;not any one, I tell you, sir, not any one!&rdquo; Completely
+      overcome, he began to weep in his handkerchief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor got up, and went to him. &ldquo;You must be a man,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and not
+      cry like a child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But sir,&rdquo; cried the young man, with tears running down his cheeks, &ldquo;if I
+      had led a wild life, if I had passed my time in dissipation with chorus
+      girls, then I could understand it. Then I would say that I had deserved
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor exclaimed with emphasis, &ldquo;No, no! You would not say it.
+      However, it is of no matter&mdash;go on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tell you that I would say it. I am honest, and I would say that I had
+      deserved it. But no, I have worked, I have been a regular grind. And now,
+      when I think of the shame that is in store for me, the disgusting things,
+      the frightful catastrophes to which I am condemned&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is all this you are telling me?&rdquo; asked the doctor, laughing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I know, I know!&rdquo; cried the other, and repeated what his friend had
+      told him about the man in a wheel-chair. &ldquo;And they used to call me
+      handsome Raoul! That was my name&mdash;handsome Raoul!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, my dear sir,&rdquo; said the doctor, cheerfully, &ldquo;wipe your eyes one last
+      time, blow your nose, put your handkerchief into your pocket, and hear me
+      dry-eyed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George obeyed mechanically. &ldquo;But I give you fair warning,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you
+      are wasting your time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tell you&mdash;&rdquo; began the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know exactly what you are going to tell me!&rdquo; cried George.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, in that case, there is nothing more for you to do here&mdash;run
+      along.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Since I am here,&rdquo; said the patient submissively, &ldquo;I will hear you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, then. I tell you that if you have the will and the
+      perseverance, none of the things you fear will happen to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, it is your duty to tell me that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will tell you that there are one hundred thousand like you in Paris,
+      alert, and seemingly well. Come, take what you were just saying&mdash;wheel-chairs.
+      One doesn&rsquo;t see so many of them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, that&rsquo;s true,&rdquo; said George.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And besides,&rdquo; added the doctor, &ldquo;a good many people who ride in them are
+      not there for the cause you think. There is no more reason why you should
+      be the victim of a catastrophe than any of the one hundred thousand. The
+      disease is serious, nothing more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You admit that it is a serious disease?&rdquo; argued George.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One of the most serious?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but you have the good fortune&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The GOOD fortune?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Relatively, if you please. You have the good fortune to be infected with
+      one of the diseases over which we have the most certain control.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes,&rdquo; exclaimed George, &ldquo;but the remedies are worse than the
+      disease.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You deceive yourself,&rdquo; replied the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are trying to make me believe that I can be cured?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that I am not condemned?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I swear it to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not deceiving yourself, you are not deceiving me? Why, I was told&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor laughed, contemptuously. &ldquo;You were told, you were told! I&rsquo;ll
+      wager that you know the laws of the Chinese concerning party-walls.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, naturally,&rdquo; said George. &ldquo;But I don&rsquo;t see what they have to do with
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Instead of teaching you such things,&rdquo; was the reply, &ldquo;it would have been
+      a great deal better to have taught you about the nature and cause of
+      diseases of this sort. Then you would have known how to avoid the
+      contagion. Such knowledge should be spread abroad, for it is the most
+      important knowledge in the world. It should be found in every newspaper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This remark gave George something of a shock, for his father had owned a
+      little paper in the provinces, and he had a sudden vision of the way
+      subscribers would have fallen off, if he had printed even so much as the
+      name of this vile disease.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And yet,&rdquo; pursued the doctor, &ldquo;you publish romances about adultery!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said George, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s what the readers want.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They don&rsquo;t want the truth about venereal diseases,&rdquo; exclaimed the other.
+      &ldquo;If they knew the full truth, they would no longer think that adultery was
+      romantic and interesting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went on to give his advice as to the means of avoiding such diseases.
+      There was really but one rule. It was: To love but one woman, to take her
+      as a virgin, and to love her so much that she would never deceive you.
+      &ldquo;Take that from me,&rdquo; added the doctor, &ldquo;and teach it to your son, when you
+      have one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George&rsquo;s attention was caught by this last sentence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean that I shall be able to have children?&rdquo; he cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; was the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Healthy children?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I repeat it to you; if you take care of yourself properly for a long
+      time, conscientiously, you have little to fear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s certain?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ninety-nine times out of a hundred.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George felt as if he had suddenly emerged from a dungeon. &ldquo;Why, then,&rdquo; he
+      exclaimed, &ldquo;I shall be able to marry!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will be able to marry,&rdquo; was the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not deceiving me? You would not give me that hope, you would not
+      expose me? How soon will I be able to marry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In three or four years,&rdquo; said the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What!&rdquo; cried George in consternation. &ldquo;In three or four years? Not
+      before?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is that? Am I going to be sick all that time? Why, you told me just
+      now&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Said the doctor: &ldquo;The disease will no longer be dangerous to you, yourself&mdash;but
+      you will be dangerous to others.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; the young man cried, in despair, &ldquo;I am to be married a month from
+      now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is impossible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I cannot do any differently. The contract is ready! The banns have
+      been published! I have given my word!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you are a great one!&rdquo; the doctor laughed. &ldquo;Just now you were
+      looking for your revolver! Now you want to be married within the month.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Doctor, it is necessary!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I forbid it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As soon as I knew that the disease is not what I imagined, and that I
+      could be cured, naturally I didn&rsquo;t want to commit suicide. And as soon as
+      I make up my mind not to commit suicide, I have to take up my regular
+      life. I have to keep my engagements; I have to get married.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes!&rdquo; persisted George, with blind obstinacy. &ldquo;Why, Doctor, if I
+      didn&rsquo;t marry it would be a disaster. You are talking about something you
+      don&rsquo;t understand. I, for my part&mdash;it is not that I am anxious to be
+      married. As I told you, I had almost a second family. Lizette&rsquo;s little
+      brothers adored me. But it is my aunt, an old maid; and, also, my mother
+      is crazy about the idea. If I were to back out now, she would die of
+      chagrin. My aunt would disinherit me, and she is the one who has the
+      family fortune. Then, too, there is my father-in-law, a regular dragoon
+      for his principles&mdash;severe, violent. He never makes a joke of serious
+      things, and I tell you it would cost me dear, terribly dear. And, besides,
+      I have given my word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must take back your word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You still insist?&rdquo; exclaimed George, in despair. &ldquo;But then, suppose that
+      it were possible, how could I take back my signature which I put at the
+      bottom of the deed? I have pledged myself to pay in two months for the
+      attorney&rsquo;s practice I have purchased!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;all these things&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are going to tell me that I was lacking in prudence, that I should
+      never have disposed of my wife&rsquo;s dowry until after the honeymoon!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; said the doctor, again, &ldquo;all these considerations are foreign to
+      me. I am a physician, and nothing but a physician, and I can only tell you
+      this: If you marry before three or four years, you will be a criminal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George broke out with a wild exclamation. &ldquo;No sir, you are not merely a
+      physician! You are also a confessor! You are not merely a scientist; and
+      it is not enough for you that you observe me as you would some lifeless
+      thing in your laboratory, and say, &lsquo;You have this; science says that; now
+      go along with you.&rsquo; All my existence depends upon you. It is your duty to
+      listen to me, because when you know everything you will understand me, and
+      you will find some way to cure me within a month.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; protested the doctor, &ldquo;I wear myself out telling you that such
+      means do not exist. I shall not be certain of your cure, as much as any
+      one can be certain, in less than three or four years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George was almost beside himself. &ldquo;I tell you you must find some means!
+      Listen to me, sir&mdash;if I don&rsquo;t get married I don&rsquo;t get the dowry! And
+      will you tell me how I can pay the notes I have signed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; said the doctor, dryly, &ldquo;if that is the question, it is very simple&mdash;I
+      will give you a plan to get out of the affair. You will go and get
+      acquainted with some rich man; you will do everything you can to gain his
+      confidence; and when you have succeeded, you will plunder him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George shook his head. &ldquo;I am not in any mood for joking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not joking,&rdquo; replied his adviser. &ldquo;Rob that man, assassinate him
+      even&mdash;that would be no worse crime than you would commit in taking a
+      young girl in good health in order to get a portion of her dowry, when at
+      the same time you would have to expose her to the frightful consequences
+      of the disease which you would give her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Frightful consequences?&rdquo; echoed George.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Consequences of which death would not be the most frightful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, sir, you were saying to me just now&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just now I did not tell you everything. Even reduced, suppressed a little
+      by our remedies, the disease remains mysterious, menacing, and in its sum,
+      sufficiently grave. So it would be an infamy to expose your fiancee in
+      order to avoid an inconvenience, however great that might be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But George was still not to be convinced. Was it certain that this
+      misfortune would befall Henriette, even with the best attention?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Said the other: &ldquo;I do not wish to lie to you. No, it is not absolutely
+      certain, it is probable. And there is another truth which I wish to tell
+      you now: our remedies are not infallible. In a certain number of cases&mdash;a
+      very small number, scarcely five per cent&mdash;they have remained without
+      effect. You might be one of those exceptions, your wife might be one. What
+      then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will employ a word you used just now, yourself. We should have to
+      expect the worst catastrophes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George sat in a state of complete despair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me what to do, then,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can tell you only one thing: don&rsquo;t marry. You have a most serious
+      blemish. It is as if you owed a debt. Perhaps no one will ever come to
+      claim it; on the other hand, perhaps a pitiless creditor will come all at
+      once, presenting a brutal demand for immediate payment. Come now&mdash;you
+      are a business man. Marriage is a contract; to marry without saying
+      anything&mdash;that means to enter into a bargain by means of passive
+      dissimulation. That&rsquo;s the term, is it not? It is dishonesty, and it ought
+      to come under the law.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George, being a lawyer, could appreciate the argument, and could think of
+      nothing to say to it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What shall I do?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The other answered, &ldquo;Go to your father-in-law and tell him frankly the
+      truth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; cried the young man, wildly, &ldquo;there will be no question then of
+      three or four years&rsquo; delay. He will refuse his consent altogether.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If that is the case,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t tell him anything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I have to give him a reason, or I don&rsquo;t know what he will do. He is
+      the sort of man to give himself to the worst violence, and again my
+      fiancee would be lost to me. Listen, doctor. From everything I have said
+      to you, you may perhaps think I am a mercenary man. It is true that I want
+      to get along in the world, that is only natural. But Henriette has such
+      qualities; she is so much better than I, that I love her, really, as
+      people love in novels. My greatest grief&mdash;it is not to give up the
+      practice I have bought&mdash;although, indeed, it would be a bitter blow
+      to me; my greatest grief would be to lose Henriette. If you could only see
+      her, if you only knew her&mdash;then you would understand. I have her
+      picture here&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young fellow took out his card-case. And offered a photograph to the
+      doctor, who gently refused it. The other blushed with embarrassment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg your pardon,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I am ridiculous. That happens to me,
+      sometimes. Only, put yourself in my place&mdash;I love her so!&rdquo; His voice
+      broke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear boy,&rdquo; said the doctor, feelingly, &ldquo;that is exactly why you ought
+      not to marry her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;if I back out without saying anything they will guess
+      the truth, and I shall be dishonored.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One is not dishonored because one is ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But with such a disease! People are so stupid. I myself, yesterday&mdash;I
+      should have laughed at anyone who had got into such a plight; I should
+      have avoided him, I should have despised him!&rdquo; And suddenly George broke
+      down again. &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo; he cried, &ldquo;if I were the only one to suffer; but she&mdash;she
+      is in love with me. I swear it to you! She is so good; and she will be so
+      unhappy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor answered, &ldquo;She would be unhappier later on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will be a scandal!&rdquo; George exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will avoid one far greater,&rdquo; the other replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly George set his lips with resolution. He rose from his seat. He
+      took several twenty-franc pieces from his pocket and laid them quietly
+      upon the doctor&rsquo;s desk&mdash;paying the fee in cash, so that he would not
+      have to give his name and address. He took up his gloves, his cane and his
+      hat, and rose.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will think it over,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I thank you, Doctor. I will come back
+      next week as you have told me. That is&mdash;probably I will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was about to leave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor rose, and he spoke in a voice of furious anger. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said,
+      &ldquo;I shan&rsquo;t see you next week, and you won&rsquo;t even think it over. You came
+      here knowing what you had; you came to ask advice of me, with the
+      intention of paying no heed to it, unless it conformed to your wishes. A
+      superficial honesty has driven you to take that chance in order to satisfy
+      your conscience. You wanted to have somebody upon whom you could put off,
+      bye and bye, the consequences of an act whose culpability you understand!
+      No, don&rsquo;t protest! Many of those who come here think and act as you think,
+      and as you wish to act; but the marriage made against my will has
+      generally been the source of such calamities that now I am always afraid
+      of not having been persuasive enough, and it even seems to me that I am a
+      little to blame for these misfortunes. I should have been able to prevent
+      them; they would not have happened if those who are the authors of them
+      knew what I know and had seen what I have seen. Swear to me, sir, that you
+      are going to break off that marriage!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George was greatly embarrassed, and unwilling to reply. &ldquo;I cannot swear to
+      you at all, Doctor; I can only tell you again that I will think it over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That WHAT over?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What you have told me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I have told you is true! You cannot bring any new objections; and I
+      have answered those which you have presented to me; therefore, your mind
+      ought to be made up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Groping for a reply, George hesitated. He could not deny that he had made
+      inquiry about these matters before he had come to the doctor. But he said
+      that he was not al all certain that he had this disease. The doctor
+      declared it, and perhaps it was true, but the most learned physicians were
+      sometimes deceived.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He remembered something he had read in one of the medical books. &ldquo;Dr.
+      Ricord maintains that after a certain period the disease is no longer
+      contagious. He has proven his contentions by examples. Today you produce
+      new examples to show that he is wrong! Now, I want to do what&rsquo;s right, but
+      surely I have the right to think it over. And when I think it over, I
+      realize that all the evils with which you threaten me are only probable
+      evils. In spite of your desire to terrify me, you have been forced to
+      admit that possibly my marriage would not have any troublesome consequence
+      for my wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor found difficulty in restraining himself. But he said, &ldquo;Go on. I
+      will answer you afterwards.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And George blundered ahead in his desperation. &ldquo;Your remedies are
+      powerful, you tell me; and for the calamities of which you speak to befall
+      me, I would have to be among the rare exceptions&mdash;also my wife would
+      have to be among the number of those rare exceptions. If a mathematician
+      were to apply the law of chance to these facts, the result of his
+      operation would show but slight chance of a catastrophe, as compared with
+      the absolute certainty of a series of misfortunes, sufferings, troubles,
+      tears, and perhaps tragic accidents which the breaking of my engagement
+      would cause. So I say that the mathematician&mdash;who is, even more than
+      you, a man of science, a man of a more infallible science&mdash;the
+      mathematician would conclude that wisdom was not with you doctors, but
+      with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You believe it, sir!&rdquo; exclaimed the other. &ldquo;But you deceive yourself.&rdquo;
+       And he continued, driving home his point with a finger which seemed to
+      George to pierce his very soul. &ldquo;Twenty cases identical with your own have
+      been patiently observed, from the beginning to the end. Nineteen times the
+      woman was infected by her husband; you hear me, sir, nineteen times out of
+      twenty! You believe that the disease is without danger, and you take to
+      yourself the right to expose your wife to what you call the chance of your
+      being one of those exceptions, for whom our remedies are without effect.
+      Very well; it is necessary that you should know the disease which your
+      wife, without being consulted, will run a chance of contracting. Take that
+      book, sir; it is the work of my teacher. Read it yourself. Here, I have
+      marked the passage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He held out the open book; but George could not lift a hand to take it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not wish to read it?&rdquo; the other continued. &ldquo;Listen to me.&rdquo; And in
+      a voice trembling with passion, he read: &ldquo;&lsquo;I have watched the spectacle of
+      an unfortunate young woman, turned into a veritable monster by means of a
+      syphilitic infection. Her face, or rather let me say what was left of her
+      face, was nothing but a flat surface seamed with scars.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George covered his face, exclaiming, &ldquo;Enough, sir! Have mercy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the other cried, &ldquo;No, no! I will go to the very end. I have a duty to
+      perform, and I will not be stopped by the sensibility of your nerves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He went on reading: &ldquo;&lsquo;Of the upper lip not a trace was left; the ridge of
+      the upper gums appeared perfectly bare.&rsquo;&rdquo; But then at the young man&rsquo;s
+      protests, his resolution failed him. &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I will stop. I am
+      sorry for you&mdash;you who accept for another person, for the woman you
+      say you love, the chance of a disease which you cannot even endure to hear
+      described. Now, from whom did that woman get syphilis? It is not I who am
+      speaking, it is the book. &lsquo;From a miserable scoundrel who was not afraid
+      to enter into matrimony when he had a secondary eruption.&rsquo; All that was
+      established later on&mdash;&lsquo;and who, moreover, had thought it best not to
+      let his wife be treated for fear of awakening her suspicions!&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor closed the book with a bang. &ldquo;What that man has done, sir, is
+      what you want to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George was edging toward the door; he could no longer look the doctor in
+      the eye. &ldquo;I should deserve all those epithets and still more brutal ones
+      if I should marry, knowing that my marriage would cause such horrors. But
+      that I do not believe. You and your teachers&mdash;you are specialists,
+      and consequently you are driven to attribute everything to the disease you
+      make the subject of your studies. A tragic case, an exceptional case,
+      holds a kind of fascination for you; you think it can never be talked
+      about enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have heard that argument before,&rdquo; said the doctor, with an effort at
+      patience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me go on, I beg you,&rdquo; pleaded George. &ldquo;You have told me that out of
+      every seven men there is one syphilitic. You have told me that there are
+      one hundred thousand in Paris, coming and going, alert, and apparently
+      well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is true,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;that there are one hundred thousand who
+      are actually at this moment not visibly under the influence of the
+      disease. But many thousands have passed into our hospitals, victims of the
+      most frightful ravages that our poor bodies can support. These&mdash;you
+      do not see them, and they do not count for you. But again, if it concerned
+      no one but yourself, you might be able to argue thus. What I declare to
+      you, what I affirm with all the violence of my conviction, is that you
+      have not the right to expose a human creature to such chances&mdash;rare,
+      as I know, but terrible, as I know still better. What have you to answer
+      to that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; stammered George, brought to his knees at last. &ldquo;You are right
+      about that. I don&rsquo;t know what to think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And in forbidding you marriage,&rdquo; continued the doctor, &ldquo;is it the same as
+      if I forbade it forever? Is it the same as if I told you that you could
+      never be cured? On the contrary, I hold out to you every hope; but I
+      demand of you a delay of three or four years, because it will take me that
+      time to find out if you are among the number of those unfortunate ones
+      whom I pity with all my heart, for whom the disease is without mercy;
+      because during that time you will be dangerous to your wife and to your
+      children. The children I have not yet mentioned to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here the doctor&rsquo;s voice trembled slightly. He spoke with moving eloquence.
+      &ldquo;Come, sir, you are an honest man; you are too young for such things not
+      to move you; you are not insensible to duty. It is impossible that I
+      shan&rsquo;t be able to find a way to your heart, that I shan&rsquo;t be able to make
+      you obey me. My emotion in speaking to you proves that I appreciate your
+      suffering, that I suffer with you. It is in the name of my sincerity that
+      I implore you. You have admitted it&mdash;that you have not the right to
+      expose your wife to such miseries. But it is not only your wife that you
+      strike; you may attack in her your own children. I exclude you for a
+      moment from my thought&mdash;you and her. It is in the name of these
+      innocents that I implore you; it is the future, it is the race that I
+      defend. Listen to me, listen to me! Out of the twenty households of which
+      I spoke, only fifteen had children; these fifteen had twenty-eight. Do you
+      know how many out of these twenty-eight survived? Three, sir! Three out of
+      twenty-eight! Syphilis is above everything a murderer of children. Herod
+      reigns in France, and over all the earth, and begins each year his
+      massacre of the innocents; and if it be not blasphemy against the
+      sacredness of life, I say that the most happy are those who have
+      disappeared. Visit our children&rsquo;s hospitals! We know too well the child of
+      syphilitic parents; the type is classical; the doctors can pick it out
+      anywhere. Those little old creatures who have the appearance of having
+      already lived, and who have kept the stigmata of all out infirmities, of
+      all our decay. They are the victims of fathers who have married, being
+      ignorant of what you know&mdash;things which I should like to go and cry
+      out in the public places.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor paused, and then in a solemn voice continued: &ldquo;I have told you
+      all, without exaggeration. Think it over. Consider the pros and cons; sum
+      up the possible misfortunes and the certain miseries. But disregard
+      yourself, and consider that there are in one side of the scales the
+      misfortunes of others, and in the other your own. Take care that you are
+      just.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George was at last overcome. &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I give way. I won&rsquo;t
+      get married. I will invent some excuse; I will get a delay of six months.
+      More than that, I cannot do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor exclaimed, &ldquo;I need three years&mdash;I need four years!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Doctor!&rdquo; persisted George. &ldquo;You can cure me in less time than that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other answered, &ldquo;No! No! No!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George caught him by the hand, imploringly. &ldquo;Yes! Science in all
+      powerful!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Science is not God,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;There are no longer any miracles.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If only you wanted to do it!&rdquo; cried the young man, hysterically. &ldquo;You are
+      a learned man; seek, invent, find something! Try some new plan with me;
+      give me double the dose, ten times the does; make me suffer. I give myself
+      up to you; I will endure everything&mdash;I swear it! There ought to be
+      some way to cure me within six months. Listen to me! I tell you I can&rsquo;t
+      answer for myself with that delay. Come; it is in the name of my wife, in
+      the name of my children, that I implore you. Do something for them!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor had reached the limit of his patience. &ldquo;Enough, sir!&rdquo; he cried.
+      &ldquo;Enough!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But nothing could stop the wretched man. &ldquo;On my knees!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;I put
+      myself on my knees before you! Oh! If only you would do it! I would bless
+      you; I would adore you, as one adores a god! All my gratitude, all my life&mdash;half
+      my fortune! For mercy&rsquo;s sake, Doctor, do something; invent something; make
+      some discovery&mdash;have pity!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor answered gravely, &ldquo;Do you wish me to do more for you than for
+      the others?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George answered, unblushingly, &lsquo;answered, unblushingly, &ldquo;Yes!&rdquo; He was
+      beside himself with terror and distress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The other&rsquo;s reply was delivered in a solemn tone. &ldquo;Understand, sir, for
+      every one of out patients we do all that we can, whether it be the
+      greatest personage, or the last comer to out hospital clinic. We have no
+      secrets in reserve for those who are more fortunate, or less fortunate
+      than the others, and who are in a hurry to be cured.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George gazed at him for a moment in bewilderment and despair, and then
+      suddenly bowed his head. &ldquo;Good-by, Doctor,&rdquo; he answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Au revoir, sir,&rdquo; the other corrected&mdash;with what proved to be
+      prophetic understanding. For George was destined to see him again&mdash;even
+      though he had made up his mind to the contrary!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      George Dupont had the most important decision of his life to make; but
+      there was never very much doubt what his decision would be. One the one
+      hand was the definite certainty that if he took the doctor&rsquo;s advice, he
+      would wreck his business prospects, and perhaps also lose the woman he
+      loved. On the other hand were vague and uncertain possibilities which it
+      was difficult for him to make real to himself. It was all very well to
+      wait a while to be cured of the dread disease; but to wait three or four
+      years&mdash;that was simply preposterous!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He decided to consult another physician. He would find one this time who
+      would not be so particular, who would be willing to take some trouble to
+      cure him quickly. He began to notice the advertisements which were
+      scattered over the pages of the newspapers he read. There were apparently
+      plenty of doctors in Paris who could cure him, who were willing to
+      guarantee to cure him. After much hesitation, he picked out one whose
+      advertisement sounded the most convincing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The office was located in a cheap quarter. It was a dingy place, not
+      encumbered with works of art, but with a few books covered with dust. The
+      doctor himself was stout and greasy, and he rubbed his hands with
+      anticipation at the sight of so prosperous-looking a patient. But he was
+      evidently a man of experience, for he knew exactly what was the matter
+      with George, almost without the formality of an examination. Yes, he could
+      cure him, quickly, he said. There had recently been great discoveries made&mdash;new
+      methods which had not reached the bulk of the profession. He laughed at
+      the idea of three or four years. That was the way with those specialists!
+      When one got forty francs for a consultation, naturally, one was glad to
+      drag out the case. There were tricks in the medical trade, as in all
+      others. A doctor had to live; when he had a big name, he had to live
+      expensively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The new physician wrote out two prescriptions, and patted George on the
+      shoulder as he went away. There was no need for him to worry; he would
+      surely be well in three months. If he would put off his marriage for six
+      months, he would be doing everything within reason. And meantime, there
+      was no need for him to worry himself&mdash;things would come out all
+      right. So George went away, feeling as if a mountain had been lifted from
+      his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He went to see Henriette that same evening, to get the matter settled.
+      &ldquo;Henriette,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I have to tell you something very important&mdash;something
+      rather painful. I hope you won&rsquo;t let it disturb you too much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was gazing at him in alarm. &ldquo;What is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; he said, blushing in spite of himself, and regretting that he had
+      begun the matter so precipitately, &ldquo;for some time I&rsquo;ve not been feeling
+      quite well. I&rsquo;ve been having a slight cough. Have you noticed it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why no!&rdquo; exclaimed Henriette, anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, today I went to see a doctor, and he says that there is a
+      possibility&mdash;you understand it is nothing very serious&mdash;but it
+      might be&mdash;I might possibly have lung trouble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;George!&rdquo; cried the girl in horror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He put his hand upon hers. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t be frightened,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It will be all
+      right, only I have to take care of myself.&rdquo; How very dear of her, he
+      thought&mdash;to be so much worried!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;George, you ought to go away to the country!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;You have been
+      working too hard. I always told you that if you shut yourself up so much&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going to take care of myself,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I realize that it is
+      necessary. I shall be all right&mdash;the doctor assured me there was no
+      doubt of it, so you are not to distress yourself. But meantime, here is
+      the trouble: I don&rsquo;t think it would be right for me to marry until I am
+      perfectly well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Henriette gave an exclamation of dismay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure we should put it off,&rdquo; he went on, &ldquo;it would be only fair to
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, George!&rdquo; she protested. &ldquo;Surely it can&rsquo;t be that serious!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We ought to wait,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You ought not to take the chance of being
+      married to a consumptive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other protested in consternation. He did not look like a consumptive;
+      she did not believe that he WAS a consumptive. She was willing to take her
+      chances. She loved him, and she was not afraid. But George insisted&mdash;he
+      was sure that he ought not to marry for six months.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did the doctor advise that?&rdquo; asked Henriette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he replied, &ldquo;but I made up my mind after talking to him that I must
+      do the fair and honorable thing. I beg you to forgive me, and to believe
+      that I know best.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George stood firmly by this position, and so in the end she had to give
+      way. It did not seem quite modest in her to continue persisting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George volunteered to write a letter to her father; and he hoped this
+      would settle the matter without further discussion. But in this he was
+      disappointed. There had to be a long correspondence with long arguments
+      and protestations from Henriette&rsquo;s father and from his own mother. It
+      seemed such a singular whim. Everybody persisted in diagnosing his
+      symptoms, in questioning him about what the doctor had said, who the
+      doctor was, how he had come to consult him&mdash;all of which, of course,
+      was very embarrassing to George, who could not see why they had to make
+      such a fuss. He took to cultivating a consumptive look, as well as he
+      could imagine it; he took to coughing as he went about the house&mdash;and
+      it was all he could do to keep from laughing, as he saw the look of dismay
+      on his poor mother&rsquo;s face. After all, however, he told himself that he was
+      not deceiving her, for the disease he had was quite as serious as
+      tuberculosis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was very painful and very trying. But there was nothing that could be
+      done about it; the marriage had been put off for six months, and in the
+      meantime he and Henriette had to control their impatience and make the
+      best of their situation. Six months was a long time; but what if it had
+      been three or four years, as the other doctor had demanded? That would
+      have been a veritable sentence of death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George, as we have seen, was conscientious, and regular and careful in his
+      habits. He took the medicine which the new doctor prescribed for him; and
+      day by day he watched, and to his great relief saw the troublesome
+      symptoms gradually disappearing. He began to take heart, and to look
+      forward to life with his former buoyancy. He had had a bad scare, but now
+      everything was going to be all right.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Three or four months passed, and the doctor told him he was cured. He
+      really was cured, so far as he could see. He was sorry, now, that he had
+      asked for so long a delay from Henriette; but the new date for the wedding
+      had been announced, and it would be awkward to change it again. George
+      told himself that he was being &ldquo;extra careful,&rdquo; and he was repaid for the
+      inconvenience by the feeling of virtue derived from the delay. He was
+      relieved that he did not have to cough any more, or to invent any more
+      tales of his interviews with the imaginary lung-specialist. Sometimes he
+      had guilty feelings because of all the lying he had had to do; but he told
+      himself that it was for Henriette&rsquo;s sake. She loved him as much as he
+      loved her. She would have suffered needless agonies had she known the
+      truth; she would never have got over it&mdash;so it would have been a
+      crime to tell her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He really loved her devotedly, thoroughly. From the beginning he had
+      thought as much of her mental sufferings as he had of any physical harm
+      that the dread disease might do to him. How could he possibly persuade
+      himself to give her up, when he knew that the separation would break her
+      heart and ruin her whole life? No; obviously, in such a dilemma, it was
+      his duty to use his own best judgment, and get himself cured as quickly as
+      possible. After that he would be true to her, he would take no more
+      chances of a loathsome disease.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The secret he was hiding made him feel humble&mdash;made him unusually
+      gentle in his attitude towards the girl. He was a perfect lover, and she
+      was ravished with happiness. She thought that all his sufferings were
+      because of his love for her, and the delay which he had imposed out of his
+      excess of conscientiousness. So she loved him more and more, and never was
+      there a happier bride than Henriette Loches, when at last the great day
+      arrived.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They went to the Riveria for their honeymoon, and then returned to live in
+      the home which had belonged to George&rsquo;s father. The investment in the
+      notary&rsquo;s practice had proven a good one, and so life held out every
+      promise for the young couple. They were divinely happy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After a while, the bride communicated to her husband the tidings that she
+      was expecting a child. Then it seemed to George that the cup of his
+      earthly bliss was full. His ailment had slipped far into the background of
+      his thoughts, like an evil dream which he had forgotten. He put away the
+      medicines in the bottom of his trunk and dismissed the whole matter from
+      his mind. Henriette was well&mdash;a very picture of health, as every one
+      agreed. The doctor had never seen a more promising young mother, he
+      declared, and Madame Dupont, the elder, bloomed with fresh life and joy as
+      she attended her daughter-in-law.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Henriette went for the summer to her father&rsquo;s place in the provinces,
+      which she and George had visited before their marriage. They drove out one
+      day to the farm where they had stopped. The farmer&rsquo;s wife had a week-old
+      baby, the sight of which made Henriette&rsquo;s heart leap with delight. He was
+      such a very healthy baby that George conceived the idea that this would be
+      the woman to nurse his own child, in case Henriette herself should not be
+      able to do it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They came back to the city, and there the baby was born. As George paced
+      the floor, waiting for the news, the memory of his evil dreams came back
+      to him. He remembered all the dreadful monstrosities of which he had read&mdash;infants
+      that were born of syphilitic parents. His heart stood still when the nurse
+      came into the room to tell him the tidings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was all right; of course it was all right! He had been a fool, he
+      told himself, as he stood in the darkened room and gazed at the wonderful
+      little mite of life which was the fruit of his love. It was a perfect
+      child, the doctor said&mdash;a little small, to be sure, but that was a
+      defect which would soon be remedied. George kneeled by the bedside and
+      kissed the hand of his wife, and went out of the room feeling as if he had
+      escaped from a tomb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All went well, and after a couple of weeks Henriette was about the house
+      again, laughing all day and singing with joy. But the baby did not gain
+      quite as rapidly as the doctor had hoped, and it was decided that the
+      country air would be better for her. So George and his mother paid a visit
+      to the farm in the country, and arranged that the country woman should put
+      her own child to nurse elsewhere and should become the foster-mother of
+      little Gervaise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George paid a good price for the service, far more than would have been
+      necessary, for the simple country woman was delighted with the idea of
+      taking care of the grandchild of the deputy of her district. George came
+      home and told his wife about this and had a merry time as he pictured the
+      woman boasting about it to the travelers who stopped at her door. &ldquo;Yes,
+      ma&rsquo;am, a great piece of luck I&rsquo;ve got, ma&rsquo;am. I&rsquo;ve got the daughter of the
+      daughter of our deputy&mdash;at your service ma&rsquo;am. My! But she is as fat
+      as out little calf&mdash;and so clever! She understands everything. A
+      great piece of luck for me, ma&rsquo;am. She&rsquo;s the daughter of the daughter of
+      our deputy!&rdquo; Henriette was vastly entertained, discovering in her husband
+      a new talent, that of an actor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As for George&rsquo;s mother, she was hardly to be persuaded from staying in the
+      country with the child. She went twice a week, to make sure that all went
+      well. Henriette and she lived with the child&rsquo;s picture before them; they
+      spent their time sewing on caps and underwear&mdash;all covered with laces
+      and frills and pink and blue ribbons. Every day, when George came home
+      from his work, he found some new article completed, and was ravished by
+      the scent of some new kind of sachet powder. What a lucky man he was!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      You would think he must have been the happiest man in the whole city of
+      Paris. But George, alas, had to pay the penalty for his early sins. There
+      was, for instance, the deception he had practiced upon his friend, away
+      back in the early days. Now he had friends of his own, and he could not
+      keep these friends from visiting him; and so he was unquiet with the fear
+      that some one of them might play upon him the same vile trick. Even in the
+      midst of his radiant happiness, when he knew that Henriette was hanging
+      upon his every word, trembling with delight when she heard his latchkey in
+      the door&mdash;still he could not drive away the horrible thought that
+      perhaps all this might be deception.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was his friend, Gustave, for example. He had been a friend of
+      Henriette&rsquo;s before her marriage; he had even been in love with her at one
+      time. And now he came sometimes to the house&mdash;once or twice when
+      George was away! What did that mean? George wondered. He brooded over it
+      all day, but dared not drop any hint to Henriette. But he took to setting
+      little traps to catch her; for instance, he would call her up on the
+      telephone, disguising his voice. &ldquo;Hello! Hello! Is that you, Madame
+      Dupont?&rdquo; And when she answered, &ldquo;It is I, sir,&rdquo; all unsuspecting, he would
+      inquire, &ldquo;Is George there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; she replied. &ldquo;Who is this speaking?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He answered, &ldquo;It is I, Gustave. How are you this morning?&rdquo; He wanted to
+      see what she would answer. Would she perhaps say, &ldquo;Very well, Gustave. How
+      are you?&rdquo;&mdash;in a tone which would betray too great intimacy!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Henriette was a sharp young person. The tone did not sound like
+      Gustave&rsquo;s. She asked in bewilderment, &ldquo;What?&rdquo; and then again, &ldquo;What?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So, at last, George, afraid that his trick might be suspected, had to
+      burst out laughing, and turn it into a joke. But when he came home and
+      teased his wife about it, the laugh was not all on his side. Henriette had
+      guessed the real meaning of his joke! She did not really mind&mdash;she
+      took his jealousy as a sign of love, and was pleased with it. It is not
+      until a third party come upon the scene that jealousy begins to be
+      annoying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So she had a merry time teasing George. &ldquo;You are a great fellow! You have
+      no idea how well I understand you&mdash;and after only a year of
+      marriage!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know me?&rdquo; said the husband, curiously. (It is always so fascinating
+      when anybody thinks she know us better than we know ourselves!) &ldquo;Tell me,
+      what do you think about me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are restless,&rdquo; said Henriette. &ldquo;You are suspicious. You pass your
+      time putting flies in your milk, and inventing wise schemes to get them
+      out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you think that, do you?&rdquo; said George, pleased to be talked about.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not annoyed,&rdquo; she answered. &ldquo;You have always been that way&mdash;and
+      I know that it&rsquo;s because at bottom you are timid and disposed to suffer.
+      And then, too, perhaps you have reasons for not having confidence in a
+      wife&rsquo;s intimate friends&mdash;lady-killer that you are!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George found this rather embarrassing; but he dared not show it, so he
+      laughed gayly. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what you mean,&rdquo; he said&mdash;&ldquo;upon my word I
+      don&rsquo;t. But it is a trick I would not advise everybody to try.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There were other embarrassing moments, caused by George&rsquo;s having things to
+      conceal. There was, for instance, the matter of the six months&rsquo; delay in
+      the marriage&mdash;about which Henriette would never stop talking. She
+      begrudged the time, because she had got the idea that little Gervaise was
+      six months younger than she otherwise would have been. &ldquo;That shows your
+      timidity again,&rdquo; she would say. &ldquo;The idea of your having imagined yourself
+      a consumptive!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor George had to defend himself. &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t tell you half the truth,
+      because I was afraid of upsetting you. It seemed I had the beginning of
+      chronic bronchitis. I felt it quite keenly whenever I took a breath, a
+      deep breath&mdash;look, like this. Yes&mdash;I felt&mdash;here and there,
+      on each side of the chest, a heaviness&mdash;a difficulty&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The idea of taking six months to cure you of a thing like that!&rdquo;
+       exclaimed Henriette. &ldquo;And making our baby six months younger than she
+      ought to be!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; laughed George, &ldquo;that means that we shall have her so much the
+      longer! She will get married six months later!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, dear me,&rdquo; responded the other, &ldquo;let us not talk about such things! I
+      am already worried, thinking she will get married some day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For my part,&rdquo; said George, &ldquo;I see myself mounting with her on my arm the
+      staircase of the Madeleine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why the Madeleine?&rdquo; exclaimed his wife. &ldquo;Such a very magnificent church!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know&mdash;I see her under her white veil, and myself all dressed
+      up, and with an order.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With an order!&rdquo; laughed Henriette. &ldquo;What do you expect to do to win an
+      order?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know that&mdash;but I see myself with it. Explain it as you will,
+      I see myself with an order. I see it all, exactly as if I were there&mdash;the
+      Swiss guard with his white stockings and the halbard, and the little
+      milliner&rsquo;s assistants and the scullion lined up staring.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is far off&mdash;all that,&rdquo; said Henriette. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like to talk of
+      it. I prefer her as a baby. I want her to grow up&mdash;but then I change
+      my mind and think I don&rsquo;t. I know your mother doesn&rsquo;t. Do you know, I
+      don&rsquo;t believe she ever thinks about anything but her little Gervaise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe you,&rdquo; said the father. &ldquo;The child can certainly boast of having
+      a grandmother who loves her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Also, I adore your mother,&rdquo; declared Henriette. &ldquo;She makes me forget my
+      misfortune in not having my own mother. She is so good!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are all like that in our family,&rdquo; put in George.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really,&rdquo; laughed the wife. &ldquo;Well, anyhow&mdash;the last time that we went
+      down in the country with her&mdash;you had gone out, I don&rsquo;t know where
+      you had gone&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To see the sixteenth-century chest,&rdquo; suggested the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; laughed Henriette; &ldquo;your famous chest!&rdquo; (You must excuse this
+      little family chatter of theirs&mdash;they were so much in love with each
+      other!)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t let&rsquo;s talk about that,&rdquo; objected George. &ldquo;You were saying&mdash;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were not there. The nurse was out at mass, I think&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Or at the wine merchant&rsquo;s! Go on, go on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I was in the little room, and mother dear thought she was all alone
+      with Gervaise. I was listening; she was talking to the baby&mdash;all
+      sorts of nonsense, pretty little words&mdash;stupid, if you like, but
+      tender. I wanted to laugh, and at the same time I wanted to weep.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps she called her &lsquo;my dear little Savior&rsquo;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Exactly! Did you hear her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;but that is what she used to call me when I was little.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was that day she swore that the little one had recognized her, and
+      laughed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And then another time, when I went into her room&mdash;mother&rsquo;s room&mdash;she
+      didn&rsquo;t hear me because the door was open, but I saw her. She was in
+      ecstasy before the little boots which the baby wore at baptism&mdash;you
+      know?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen, then. She had taken them and she was embracing them!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what did you say then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing; I stole out very softly, and I sent across the threshold a great
+      kiss to the dear grandmother!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Henriette sat for a moment in thought. &ldquo;It didn&rsquo;t take her very long,&rdquo; she
+      remarked, &ldquo;today when she got the letter from the nurse. I imagine she
+      caught the eight-fifty-nine train!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Any yet,&rdquo; laughed George, &ldquo;it was really nothing at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh no,&rdquo; said his wife. &ldquo;Yet after all, perhaps she was right&mdash;and
+      perhaps I ought to have gone with her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How charming you are, my poor Henriette! You believe everything you are
+      told. I, for my part, divined right away the truth. The nurse was simply
+      playing a game on us; she wanted a raise. Will you bet? Come, I&rsquo;ll bet you
+      something. What would you like to bet? You don&rsquo;t want to? Come, I&rsquo;ll bet
+      you a lovely necklace&mdash;you know, with a big pearl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; said Henriette, who had suddenly lost her mood of gayety. &ldquo;I should
+      be too much afraid of winning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stop!&rdquo; laughed her husband. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you believe I love her as much as you
+      love her&mdash;my little duck? Do you know how old she is? I mean her
+      EXACT age?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Henriette sat knitting her brows, trying to figure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; he exploded. &ldquo;You see you don&rsquo;t know! She is ninety-one days and
+      eight hours! Ha, ha! Imagine when she will be able to walk all alone. Then
+      we will take her back with us; we must wait at least six months.&rdquo; Then,
+      too late, poor George realized that he had spoken the fatal phrase again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If only you hadn&rsquo;t put off our marriage, she would be able to walk now,&rdquo;
+       said Henriette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He rose suddenly. &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;didn&rsquo;t you say you had to dress and
+      pay some calls?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Henriette laughed, but took the hint.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Run along, little wife,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I have a lot of work to do in the
+      meantime. You won&rsquo;t be down-stairs before I shall have my nose buried in
+      my papers. Bye-bye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bye-bye,&rdquo; said Henriette. But they paused to exchange a dozen or so
+      kisses before she went away to dress.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then George lighted a cigarette and stretched himself out in the big
+      armchair. He seemed restless; he seemed to be disturbed about something.
+      Could it be that he had not been so much at ease as he had pretended to
+      be, since the letter had come from the baby&rsquo;s nurse? Madame Dupont had
+      gone by the earliest train that morning. She had promised to telegraph at
+      once&mdash;but she had not done so, and now it was late afternoon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George got up and wandered about. He looked at himself in the glass for a
+      moment; then he went back to the chair and pulled up another to put his
+      geet upon. He puffed away at his cigarette until he was calmer. But then
+      suddenly he heard the rustle of a dress behind him, and glanced about, and
+      started up with an exclamation, &ldquo;Mother!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Dupont stood in the doorway. She did not speak. Her veil was thrown
+      back and George noted instantly the look of agitation upon her
+      countenance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;We didn&rsquo;t get any telegram from you; we
+      were not expecting you till tomorrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Still his mother did not speak.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Henriette was just going out,&rdquo; he exclaimed nervously; &ldquo;I had better call
+      her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo; said his mother quickly. Her voice was low and trembling. &ldquo;I did not
+      want Henriette to be here when I arrived.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo; cried George.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Again there was a silence before the reply came. He read something
+      terrible in the mother&rsquo;s manner, and he found himself trembling violently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have brought back the child and the nurse,&rdquo; said Madame Dupont.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! Is the little one sick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter with her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing dangerous&mdash;for the moment, at least.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must send and get the doctor!&rdquo; cried George.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have just come from the doctor&rsquo;s,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;He said it was
+      necessary to take our child from the nurse and bring her up on the
+      bottle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again there was a pause. George could hardly bring himself to ask the next
+      question. Try as he would, he could not keep his voice from weakening.
+      &ldquo;Well, now, what is her trouble?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The mother did not answer. She stood staring before her. At last she said,
+      faintly, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You didn&rsquo;t ask?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I asked. But it was not to our own doctor that I went.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; whispered George. For nearly a minute neither one of them spoke.
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo; he inquired at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because&mdash;he&mdash;the nurse&rsquo;s doctor&mdash;had frightened me so&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Truly?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. It is a disease&mdash;&rdquo; again she stopped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George cried, in a voice of agony, &ldquo;and then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I asked him if the matter was so grave that I could not be satisfied
+      with our ordinary doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what did he answer?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He said that if we had the means it would really be better to consult a
+      specialist.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George looked at his mother again. He was able to do it, because she was
+      not looking at him. He clenched his hands and got himself together. &ldquo;And&mdash;where
+      did he send you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His mother fumbled in her hand bag and drew out a visiting card. &ldquo;Here,&rdquo;
+       she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And George looked at the card. It was all he could do to keep himself from
+      tottering. It was the card of the doctor whom he had first consulted about
+      his trouble! The specialist in venereal diseases!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was all George could do to control his voice. &ldquo;You&mdash;you went to
+      see him?&rdquo; he stammered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said his mother. &ldquo;You know him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;Or&mdash;that is&mdash;I have met him, I think. I
+      don&rsquo;t know.&rdquo; And then to himself, &ldquo;My God!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a silence. &ldquo;He is coming to talk to you,&rdquo; said the mother, at
+      last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George was hardly able to speak. &ldquo;Then he is very much disturbed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but he wants to talk to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. When the doctor saw the nurse, he said, &lsquo;Madame, it is impossible
+      for me to continue to attend this child unless I have had this very day a
+      conversation with the father.&rsquo; So I said &lsquo;Very well,&rsquo; and he said he would
+      come at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George turned away, and put his hands to his forehead. &ldquo;My poor little
+      daughter!&rdquo; he whispered to himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the mother, her voice breaking, &ldquo;she is, indeed, a poor little
+      daughter!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A silence fell; for what could words avail in such a situation? Hearing
+      the door open, Madame Dupont started, for her nerves were all a-quiver
+      with the strain she had been under. A servant came in and spoke to her,
+      and she said to George, &ldquo;It is the doctor. If you need me, I shall be in
+      the next room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her son stood trembling, as if he were waiting the approach of an
+      executioner. The other came into the room without seeing him and he stood
+      for a minute, clasping and unclasping his hands, almost overcome with
+      emotion. Then he said, &ldquo;Good-day, doctor.&rdquo; As the man stared at him,
+      surprised and puzzled, he added, &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t recognize me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor looked again, more closely. George was expecting him to break
+      out in rage; but instead his voice fell low. &ldquo;You!&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;It is
+      you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, in a voice of discouragement than of anger, he went on, &ldquo;You got
+      married, and you have a child! After all that I told you! You are a
+      wretch!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; cried George, &ldquo;let me explain to you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a word!&rdquo; exclaimed the other. &ldquo;There can be no explanation for what
+      you have done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A silence followed. The young man did not know what to say. Finally,
+      stretching out his arms, he pleaded, &ldquo;You will take care of my little
+      daughter all the same, will you not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other turned away with disgust. &ldquo;Imbecile!&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George did not hear the word. &ldquo;I was able to wait only six months,&rdquo; he
+      murmured.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor answered in a voice of cold self-repression, &ldquo;That is enough,
+      sir! All that does not concern me. I have done wrong even to let you see
+      my indignation. I should have left you to judge yourself. I have nothing
+      to do here but with the present and with the future&mdash;with the infant
+      and with the nurse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She isn&rsquo;t in danger?&rdquo; cried George.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The nurse is in danger of being contaminated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But George had not been thinking about the nurse. &ldquo;I mean my child,&rdquo; he
+      said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just at present the symptoms are not disturbing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George waited; after a while he began, &ldquo;You were saying about the nurse.
+      Will you consent that I call my mother? She knows better than I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you wish,&rdquo; was the reply.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man started to the door, but came back, in terrible distress. &ldquo;I
+      have one prayer to offer you sir; arrange it so that my wife&mdash;so that
+      no one will know. If my wife learned that it is I who am the cause&mdash;!
+      It is for her that I implore you! She&mdash;she isn&rsquo;t to blame.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Said the doctor: &ldquo;I will do everything in my power that she may be kept
+      ignorant of the true nature of the disease.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, how I thank you!&rdquo; murmured George. &ldquo;How I thank you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not thank me; it is for her, and not for you, that I will consent to
+      lie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And my mother?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your mother knows the truth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I pray you, sir&mdash;we have enough to talk about, and very serious
+      matters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So George went to the door and called his mother. She entered and greeted
+      the doctor, holding herself erect, and striving to keep the signs of grief
+      and terror from her face. She signed to the doctor to take a seat, and
+      then seated herself by a little table near him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madame Dupont,&rdquo; he began, &ldquo;I have prescribed a course of treatment for
+      the child. I hope to be able to improve its condition, and to prevent any
+      new developments. But my duty and yours does not stop there; if there is
+      still time, it is necessary to protect the health of the nurse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell us what it is necessary to do, Doctor?&rdquo; said she.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The woman must stop nursing the child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean we have to change the nurse?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madame, the child can no longer be brought up at the breast, either by
+      that nurse or by any other nurse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because the child would give her disease to the woman who gave her milk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Doctor, if we put her on the bottle&mdash;our little one&mdash;she
+      will die!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And suddenly George burst out into sobs. &ldquo;Oh, my poor little daughter! My
+      God, my God!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Said the doctor, &ldquo;If the feeding is well attended to, with sterilized milk&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That can do very well for healthy infants,&rdquo; broke in Madame Dupont. &ldquo;But
+      at the age of three months one cannot take from the breast a baby like
+      ours, frail and ill. More than any other such an infant has need of a
+      nurse&mdash;is that not true?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; the doctor admitted, &ldquo;that is true. But&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In that case, between the life of the child, and the health of the nurse,
+      you understand perfectly well that my choice is made.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Between her words the doctor heard the sobbing of George, whose head was
+      buried in his arms. &ldquo;Madame,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;your love for that baby has just
+      caused you to utter something ferocious! It is not for you to choose. It
+      is not for you to choose. I forbid the nursing. The health of that woman
+      does not belong to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; cried the grandmother, wildly, &ldquo;nor does the health of out child
+      belong to you! If there is a hope of saving it, that hope is in giving it
+      more care than any other child; and you would wish that I put it upon a
+      mode of nourishment which the doctors condemn, even for vigorous infants!
+      You expect that I will let myself be taken in like that? I answer you: she
+      shall have the milk which she needs, my poor little one! If there was a
+      single thing that one could do to save her&mdash;I should be a criminal to
+      neglect it!&rdquo; And Madame Dupont broke out, with furious scorn, &ldquo;The nurse!
+      The nurse! We shall know how to do our duty&mdash;we shall take care of
+      her, repay her. But our child before all! No sir, no! Everything that can
+      be done to save our baby I shall do, let it cost what it will. To do what
+      you say&mdash;you don&rsquo;t realize it&mdash;it would be as if I should kill
+      the child!&rdquo; In the end the agonized woman burst into tears. &ldquo;Oh, my poor
+      little angel! My little savior!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George had never ceased sobbing while his mother spoke; at these last
+      words his sobs became loud cries. He struck the floor with his foot, he
+      tore his hair, as if he were suffering from violent physical pain. &ldquo;Oh,
+      oh, oh!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;My little child! My little child!&rdquo; And then, in a
+      horrified whisper to himself, &ldquo;I am a wretch! A criminal!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madame,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;you must calm yourself; you must both calm
+      yourselves. You will not help out the situation by lamentations. You must
+      learn to take it with calmness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Dupont set her lips together, and with a painful effort recovered
+      her self-control. &ldquo;You are right, sir,&rdquo; she said, in a low voice. &ldquo;I ask
+      your pardon; but if you only knew what that child means to me! I lost one
+      at that age. I am an old woman, I am a widow&mdash;I had hardly hoped to
+      live long enough to be a grandmother. But, as you say&mdash;we must be
+      calm.&rdquo; She turned to the young man, &ldquo;Calm yourself, my son. It is a poor
+      way to show our love for the child, to abandon ourselves to tears. Let us
+      talk, Doctor, and seriously&mdash;coldly. But I declare to you that
+      nothing will ever induce me to put the child on the bottle, when I know
+      that it might kill her. That is all I can say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor replied: &ldquo;This isn&rsquo;t the first time that I find myself in the
+      present situation. Madame, I declare to you that always&mdash;ALWAYS, you
+      understand&mdash;persons who have rejected my advice have had reason to
+      repent it cruelly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The only thing of which I should repent&mdash;&rdquo; began the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You simply do not know,&rdquo; interrupted the doctor, &ldquo;what such a nurse is
+      capable of. You cannot imagine what bitterness&mdash;legitimate
+      bitterness, you understand&mdash;joined to the rapacity, the cupidity, the
+      mischief-making impulse&mdash;might inspire these people to do. For them
+      the BOURGEOIS is always somewhat of an enemy; and when they find
+      themselves in position to avenge their inferiority, they are ferocious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what could the woman do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What could she do? She could bring legal proceedings against you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But she is much too stupid to have that idea.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Others will put it into her mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is too poor to pay the preliminary expenses.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And do you propose then to profit by her ignorance and stupidity?
+      Besides, she could obtain judicial assistance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, surely,&rdquo; exclaimed Madame Dupont, &ldquo;such a thing was never heard of!
+      Do you mean that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know a dozen prosecutions of that sort; and always when there has been
+      certainty, the parents have lost their case.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But surely, Doctor, you must be mistaken! Not in a case like ours&mdash;not
+      when it is a question of saving the life of a poor little innocent!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oftentimes exactly such facts have been presented.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here George broke in. &ldquo;I can give you the dates of the decisions.&rdquo; He rose
+      from his chair, glad of an opportunity to be useful. &ldquo;I have the books,&rdquo;
+       he said, and took one from the case and brought it to the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All of that is no use&mdash;&rdquo; interposed the mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the doctor said to George, &ldquo;You will be able to convince yourself. The
+      parents have been forced once or twice to pay the nurse a regular income,
+      and at other times they have had to pay her an indemnity, of which the
+      figure has varied between three and eight thousand francs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Dupont was ready with a reply to this. &ldquo;Never fear, sir! If there
+      should be a suit, we should have a good lawyer. We shall be able to pay
+      and choose the best&mdash;and he would demand, without doubt, which of the
+      two, the nurse or the child, has given the disease to the other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor was staring at her in horror. &ldquo;Do you not perceive that would
+      be a monstrous thing to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I would not have to say it,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;The lawyer would see to
+      it&mdash;is not that his profession? My point is this: by one means or
+      another he would make us win our case.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the scandal that would result,&rdquo; replied the other. &ldquo;Have you thought
+      of that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here George, who had been looking over his law-books, broke in. &ldquo;Doctor,
+      permit me to give you a little information. In cases of this sort, the
+      names are never printed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but they are spoken at the hearings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s true.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And are you certain that there will not be any newspaper to print the
+      judgment?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What won&rsquo;t they stoop to,&rdquo; exclaimed Madame Dupont&mdash;&ldquo;those filthy
+      journals!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;and see what a scandal? What a shame it would be to
+      you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The doctor is right, mother,&rdquo; exclaimed the young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Madame Dupont was not yet convinced. &ldquo;We will prevent the woman from
+      taking any steps; we will give her what she demands from us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But then,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;you will give yourselves up to the risk of
+      blackmail. I know a family which has been thus held up for over twelve
+      years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you will permit me, Doctor,&rdquo; said George, timidly, &ldquo;she could be made
+      to sign a receipt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For payment in full?&rdquo; asked the doctor, scornfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Even so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And then,&rdquo; added his mother, &ldquo;she would be more than delighted to go back
+      to her country with a full purse. She would be able to buy a little house
+      and a bit of ground&mdash;in that country one doesn&rsquo;t need so much in
+      order to live.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this moment there was a tap upon the door, and the nurse entered. She
+      was a country woman, robust, rosy-cheeked, fairly bursting with health.
+      When she spoke one got the impression that her voice was more than she
+      could contain. It did not belong in a drawing-room, but under the open sky
+      of her country home. &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; she said, addressing the doctor, &ldquo;the baby is
+      awake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will go and see her,&rdquo; was the reply; and then to Madame Dupont, &ldquo;We
+      will take up this conversation later on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly,&rdquo; said the mother. &ldquo;Will you have need of the nurse?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Madame,&rdquo; the doctor answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nurse,&rdquo; said the mother, &ldquo;sit down and rest. Wait a minute, I wish to
+      speak to you.&rdquo; As the doctor went out, she took her son to one side and
+      whispered to him, &ldquo;I know the way to arrange everything. If we let her
+      know what is the matter, and if she accepts, the doctor will have nothing
+      more to say. Isn&rsquo;t that so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Obviously,&rdquo; replied the son.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going to promise that we will give her two thousand francs when she
+      goes away, if she will consent to continue nursing the child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Two thousand francs?&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;Is that enough?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will see,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;If she hesitates, I will go further. Let me
+      attend to it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George nodded his assent, and Madame Dupont returned to the nurse. &ldquo;You
+      know,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;that our child is a little sick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other looked at her in surprise. &ldquo;Why no, ma&rsquo;am!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the grandmother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, ma&rsquo;am, I have taken the best of care of her; I have always kept her
+      proper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not saying anything to the contrary,&rdquo; said Madame Dupont, &ldquo;but the
+      child is sick, the doctors have said it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The nurse was not to be persuaded; she thought they were getting ready to
+      scold her. &ldquo;Humph,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s a fine thing&mdash;the doctors! If
+      they couldn&rsquo;t always find something wrong you&rsquo;d say they didn&rsquo;t know their
+      business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But our doctor is a great doctor; and you have seen yourself that our
+      child has some little pimples.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, ma&rsquo;am,&rdquo; said the nurse, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s the heat&mdash;it&rsquo;s nothing but the
+      heat of the blood breaking out. You don&rsquo;t need to bother yourself; I tell
+      you it&rsquo;s only the child&rsquo;s blood. It&rsquo;s not my fault; I swear to you that
+      she had not lacked anything, and that I have always kept her proper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not reproaching you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is there to reproach me for? Oh, what bad luck! She&rsquo;s tiny&mdash;the
+      little one&mdash;she&rsquo;s a bit feeble; but Lord save us, she&rsquo;s a city child!
+      And she&rsquo;s getting along all right, I tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; persisted Madame Dupont, &ldquo;I tell you&mdash;she has got a cold in her
+      head, and she has an eruption at the back of the throat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; cried the nurse, angrily, &ldquo;if she has, it&rsquo;s because the doctor
+      scratched her with that spoon he put into her mouth wrong end first! A
+      cold in the head? Yes, that&rsquo;s true; but if she has caught cold, I can&rsquo;t
+      say when, I don&rsquo;t know anything about it&mdash;nothing, nothing at all. I
+      have always kept her well covered; she&rsquo;s always had as much as three
+      covers on her. The truth is, it was when you came, the time before last;
+      you were all the time insisting upon opening the windows in the house!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But once more I tell you,&rdquo; cried Madame Dupont, &ldquo;we are not putting any
+      blame on you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; cried the woman, more vehemently. &ldquo;I know what that kind of talk
+      means. It&rsquo;s no use&mdash;when you&rsquo;re a poor country woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you imagining now?&rdquo; demanded the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that&rsquo;s all right. It&rsquo;s no use when you&rsquo;re a poor country woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I repeat to you once more,&rdquo; cried Madame Dupont, with difficulty
+      controlling her impatience, &ldquo;we have nothing whatever to blame you for.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the nurse began to weep. &ldquo;If I had known that anything like this was
+      coming to me&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have nothing to blame you for,&rdquo; declared the other. &ldquo;We only wish to
+      warn you that you might possibly catch the disease of the child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman pouted. &ldquo;A cold in the head!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;Well, if I catch
+      it, it won&rsquo;t be the first time. I know how to blow my nose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you might also get the pimples.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this the nurse burst into laughter so loud that the bric-a-brac
+      rattled. &ldquo;Oh, oh, oh! Dear lady, let me tell you, we ain&rsquo;t city folks, we
+      ain&rsquo;t; we don&rsquo;t have such soft skins. What sort of talk is that? Pimples&mdash;what
+      difference would that make to poor folks like us? We don&rsquo;t have a white
+      complexion like the ladies of Paris. We are out all day in the fields, in
+      the sun and the rain, instead of rubbing cold cream on our muzzles! No
+      offense, ma&rsquo;am&mdash;but I say if you&rsquo;re looking for an excuse to get rid
+      of me, you must get a better one than that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Excuse!&rdquo; exclaimed the other. &ldquo;What in the world do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I know!&rdquo; said the nurse, nodding her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But speak!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It&rsquo;s no use, when you&rsquo;re only a poor country woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t understand you! I swear to you that I don&rsquo;t understand you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; sneered the other, &ldquo;I understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But then&mdash;explain yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don&rsquo;t want to say it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you must; I wish it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go ahead.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I&rsquo;m only a poor country woman, but I am no more stupid than the others,
+      for all that. I know perfectly well what your tricks mean. Mr. George here
+      has been grumbling because you promised me thirty francs more a month, if
+      I came to Paris.&rdquo; And then, turning upon the other, she went on&mdash;&ldquo;But,
+      sir, isn&rsquo;t it only natural? Don&rsquo;t I have to put my own child away
+      somewheres else? And then, can my husband live on his appetite? We&rsquo;re
+      nothing but poor country people, we are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are making a mistake, nurse,&rdquo; broke in George. &ldquo;It is nothing at all
+      of that sort; mother is quite right. I am so far from wanting to reproach
+      you, that, on the contrary, I think she had not promised enough, and I
+      want to make you, for my part, another promise. When you go away, when
+      baby is old enough to be weaned, by way of thanking you, we wish to give
+      you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Dupont broke in, hurriedly, &ldquo;We wish to give you,&mdash;over and
+      above your wages, you understand&mdash;we wish to give you five hundred
+      francs, and perhaps a thousand, if the little one is altogether in good
+      health. You understand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The nurse stared at her, stupefied. &ldquo;You will give me five hundred francs&mdash;for
+      myself?&rdquo; She sought to comprehend the words. &ldquo;But that was not agreed, you
+      don&rsquo;t have to do that at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; admitted Madame Dupont.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But then,&rdquo; whispered the nurse, half to herself, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s not natural.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; the other hurried on, &ldquo;it is because the baby will have need of
+      extra care. You will have to take more trouble; you will have to give it
+      medicines; your task will be a little more delicate, a little more
+      difficult.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes; then it&rsquo;s so that I will be sure to take care of her? I
+      understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then it&rsquo;s agreed?&rdquo; exclaimed Madame Dupont, with relief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes ma&rsquo;am,&rdquo; said the nurse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you won&rsquo;t come later on to make reproaches to us? We understand one
+      another clearly? We have warned you that the child is sick and that you
+      could catch the disease. Because of that, because of the special need of
+      care which she has, we promise you five hundred francs at the end of the
+      nursing. That&rsquo;s all right, is it?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, my lady,&rdquo; cried the nurse, all her cupidity awakened, &ldquo;you spoke
+      just now of a thousand francs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, then, a thousand francs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George passed behind the nurse and got his mother by the arm, drawing her
+      to one side. &ldquo;It would be a mistake,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;if we did not make
+      her sign an agreement to all that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His mother turned to the nurse. &ldquo;In order that there may be no
+      misunderstanding about the sum&mdash;you see how it is, I had forgotten
+      already that I had spoken of a thousand francs&mdash;we will draw up a
+      little paper, and you, on your part, will write one for us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very good, ma&rsquo;am,&rdquo; said the nurse, delighted with the idea of so
+      important a transaction. &ldquo;Why, it&rsquo;s just as you do when you rent a house!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here comes the doctor,&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;Come, nurse, it is agreed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, ma&rsquo;am,&rdquo; was the answer. But all the same, as she went out she
+      hesitated and looked sharply first at the doctor, and then at George and
+      his mother. She suspected that something was wrong, and she meant to find
+      out if she could.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor seated himself in George&rsquo;s office chair, as if to write a
+      prescription. &ldquo;The child&rsquo;s condition remains the same,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;nothing
+      disturbing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doctor,&rdquo; said Madame Dupont, gravely, &ldquo;from now on, you will be able to
+      devote your attention to the baby and the nurse without any scruple.
+      During your absence we have arranged matters nicely. The nurse has been
+      informed about the situation, and she does not mind. She has agreed to
+      accept an indemnity, and the amount has been stated.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the doctor did not take these tidings as the other had hoped he might.
+      He replied: &ldquo;The malady which the nurse will almost inevitably contract in
+      feeding the child is too grave in its consequences. Such consequences
+      might go as far as complete helplessness, even as far as death. So I say
+      that the indemnity, whatever it might be, would not pay the damage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; exclaimed the other, &ldquo;she accepts it! She is mistress of herself,
+      and she has the right&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not at all certain that she has the right to sell her own health.
+      And I am certain that she has not the right to sell the health of her
+      husband and her children. If she becomes infected, it is nearly certain
+      that she will communicate the disease to them; the health and the life of
+      the children she might have later on would be greatly compromised. Such
+      things she cannot possibly sell. Come, madame, you must see that a bargain
+      of this sort isn&rsquo;t possible. If the evil has not been done, you must do
+      everything to avoid it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; protested the mother, wildly, &ldquo;you do not defend our interests!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madame,&rdquo; was the reply, &ldquo;I defend those who are weakest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If we had called in our own physician, who knows us,&rdquo; she protested, &ldquo;he
+      would have taken sides with us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor rose, with a severe look on his face. &ldquo;I doubt it,&rdquo; he said,
+      &ldquo;but there is still time to call him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George broke in with a cry of distress. &ldquo;Sir, I implore you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the mother in turn cried. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t abandon us, sir! You ought to make
+      allowances! If you knew what that child is to me! I tell you it seems to
+      me as if I had waited for her coming in order to die. Have pity upon us!
+      Have pity upon her! You speak of the weakest&mdash;it is not she who is
+      the weakest? You have seen her, you have seen that poor little baby, so
+      emaciated! You have seen what a heap of suffering she is already; and
+      cannot that inspire in you any sympathy? I pray you, sir&mdash;I pray
+      you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I pity her,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;I would like to save her&mdash;and I will
+      do everything for her. But do not ask me to sacrifice to a feeble infant,
+      with an uncertain and probably unhappy life, the health of a sound and
+      robust woman. It is useless for us to continue such a discussion as that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Whereupon Madame Dupont leaped up in sudden frenzy. &ldquo;Very Well!&rdquo; she
+      exclaimed. &ldquo;I will not follow your counsels, I will not listen to you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Said the doctor in a solemn voice: &ldquo;There is already some one here who
+      regrets that he did not listen to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; moaned George, &ldquo;to my misfortune, to the misfortune of all of us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Madame Dupont was quite beside herself. &ldquo;Very well!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;If it
+      is a fault, if it is a crime, if I shall have to suffer remorse for it in
+      this life, and all the punishments in the life to come&mdash;I accept it
+      all for myself alone! Myself alone, I take that responsibility! It is
+      frightfully heavy, but I accept it. I am profoundly a Christian sir; I
+      believe in eternal damnation; but to save my little child I consent to
+      lose my soul forever. Yes, my mind is made up&mdash;I will do everything
+      to save that life! Let God judge me; and if he condemns me, so much the
+      worse for me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor answered: &ldquo;That responsibility is one which I cannot let you
+      take, for it will be necessary that I should accept my part, and I refuse
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What will you do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall warn the nurse. I shall inform her exactly, completely&mdash;something
+      which you have not done, I feel sure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; cried Madame Dupont, wildly. &ldquo;You, a doctor, called into a family
+      which gives you its entire confidence, which hands over to you its most
+      terrible secrets, its most horrible miseries&mdash;you would betray them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not a betrayal,&rdquo; replied the man, sternly. &ldquo;It is something which
+      the law commands; and even if the law were silent, I would not permit a
+      family of worthy people to go astray so far as to commit a crime. Either I
+      give up the case, or you have the nursing of the child stopped.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You threaten! You threaten!&rdquo; cried the woman, almost frantic. &ldquo;You abuse
+      the power which your knowledge gives you! You know that it is you whose
+      attention we need by that little cradle; you know that we believe in you,
+      and you threaten to abandon us! Your abandonment means the death of the
+      child, perhaps! And if I listen to you, if we stop the nursing of the
+      child&mdash;that also means her death!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She flung up her hands like a mad creature. &ldquo;And yet there is no other
+      means! Ah, my God! Why do you not let it be possible for me to sacrifice
+      myself? I would wish nothing more than to be able to do it&mdash;if only
+      you might take my old body, my old flesh, my old bones&mdash;if only I
+      might serve for something! How quickly would I consent that it should
+      infect me&mdash;this atrocious malady! How I would offer myself to it&mdash;with
+      what joys, with what delights&mdash;however disgusting, however frightful
+      it might be, however much to be dreaded! Yes, I would take it without
+      fear, without regret, if my poor old empty breasts might still give to the
+      child the milk which would preserve its life!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stopped; and George sprang suddenly from his seat, and fled to her and
+      flung himself down upon his knees before her, mingling his sobs and tears
+      with hers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor rose and moved about the room, unable any longer to control his
+      distress. &ldquo;Oh, the poor people!&rdquo; he murmured to himself. &ldquo;The poor, poor
+      people!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The storm passed, and Madame Dupont, who was a woman of strong character,
+      got herself together. Facing the doctor again, she said, &ldquo;Come, sir, tell
+      us what we have to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must stop the nursing, and keep the woman here as a dry nurse, in
+      order that she may not go away to carry the disease elsewhere. Do not
+      exaggerate to yourself the danger which will result to the child. I am, in
+      truth, extremely moved by your suffering, and I will do everything&mdash;I
+      swear it to you&mdash;that your baby may recover as quickly as possible
+      its perfect health. I hope to succeed, and that soon. And now I must leave
+      you until tomorrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, Doctor, thank you,&rdquo; said Madame Dupont, faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man rose and accompanied the doctor to the door. He could not
+      bring himself to speak, but stood hanging his head until the other was
+      gone. Then he came to his mother. He sought to embrace her, but she
+      repelled him&mdash;without violence, but firmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her son stepped back and put his hands over his face. &ldquo;Forgive me!&rdquo; he
+      said, in a broken voice. &ldquo;Are we not unhappy enough, without hating each
+      other?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His mother answered: &ldquo;God has punished you for your debauch by striking at
+      your child.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But, grief-stricken as the young man was, he could not believe that.
+      &ldquo;Impossible!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;There is not even a man sufficiently wicked or
+      unjust to commit the act which you attribute to your God!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said his mother, sadly, &ldquo;you believe in nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I believe in no such God as that,&rdquo; he answered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A silence followed. When it was broken, it was by the entrance of the
+      nurse. She had opened the door of the room and had been standing there for
+      some moments, unheeded. Finally she stepped forward. &ldquo;Madame,&rdquo; she said,
+      &ldquo;I have thought it over; I would rather go back to my home at once, and
+      have only the five hundred francs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Dupont stared at her in consternation. &ldquo;What is that you are
+      saying? You want to return to your home?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, ma&rsquo;am,&rdquo; was the answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; cried George, &ldquo;only ten minutes ago you were not thinking of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What has happened since then?&rdquo; demanded Madame Dupont.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have thought it over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thought it over?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I am getting lonesome for my little one and for my husband.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the last ten minutes?&rdquo; exclaimed George.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There must be something else,&rdquo; his mother added. &ldquo;Evidently there must be
+      something else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo; insisted the nurse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I say yes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;m afraid the air of Paris might not be good for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had better wait and try it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would rather go back at once to my home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, now,&rdquo; cried Madame Dupont, &ldquo;tell us why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have told you. I have thought it over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thought what over?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I have thought.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh,&rdquo; cried the mother, &ldquo;what a stupid reply! &lsquo;I have thought it over! I
+      have thought it over!&rsquo; Thought WHAT over, I want to know!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you know how to tell us what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tell you, everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; exclaimed Madame Dupont, &ldquo;you are an imbecile!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George stepped between his mother and the nurse. &ldquo;Let me talk to her,&rdquo; he
+      said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman came back to her old formula: &ldquo;I know that we&rsquo;re only poor
+      country people.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Listen to me, nurse,&rdquo; said the young man. &ldquo;Only a little while ago you
+      were afraid that we would send you away. You were satisfied with the wages
+      which my mother had fixed. In addition to those wages we had promised you
+      a good sum when you returned to your home. Now you tell us that you want
+      to go away. You see? All at once. There must be some reason; let us
+      understand it. There must certainly be a reason. Has anybody done anything
+      to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir,&rdquo; said the woman, dropping her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have thought it over.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George burst out, &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t go on repeating always the same thing&mdash;&lsquo;I
+      have thought it over!&rsquo; That&rsquo;s not telling us anything.&rdquo; Controlling
+      himself, he added, gently, &ldquo;Come, tell me why you want to go away?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a silence. &ldquo;Well?&rdquo; he demanded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tell you, I have thought&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George exclaimed in despair, &ldquo;It&rsquo;s as if one were talking to a block of
+      wood!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His mother took up the conversation again. &ldquo;You must realize, you have not
+      the right to go away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman answered, &ldquo;I WANT to go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I will not let you leave us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; interrupted George angrily, &ldquo;let her go; we cannot fasten her here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, then,&rdquo; cried the exasperated mother, &ldquo;since you want to go,
+      go! But I have certainly the right to say to you that you are as stupid as
+      the animals on your farm!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t say that I am not,&rdquo; answered the woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will not pay you the month which has just begun, and you will pay your
+      railroad fare for yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other drew back with a look of anger. &ldquo;Oho!&rdquo; she cried. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll see
+      about that!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, we&rsquo;ll see about it!&rdquo; cried George. &ldquo;And you will get out of here at
+      once. Take yourself off&mdash;I will have no more to do with you. Good
+      evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, George,&rdquo; protested his mother, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t lose control of yourself.&rdquo; And
+      then, with a great effort at calmness, &ldquo;That cannot be serious, nurse!
+      Answer me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would rather go off right away to my home, and only have my five
+      hundred francs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;WHAT?&rdquo; cried George, in consternation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What&rsquo;s that you are telling me?&rdquo; exclaimed Madame Dupont.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Five hundred francs?&rdquo; repeated her son.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What five hundred francs?&rdquo; echoed the mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The five hundred francs you promised me,&rdquo; said the nurse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have promised you five hundred francs? WE?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When the child should be weaned, and if we should be satisfied with you!
+      That was our promise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. You said you would give them to me when I was leaving. Now I am
+      leaving, and I want them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Madame Dupont drew herself up, haughtily. &ldquo;In the first place,&rdquo; she said,
+      &ldquo;kindly oblige me by speaking to me in another tone; do you understand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman answered, &ldquo;You have nothing to do but give me my money, and I
+      will say nothing more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George went almost beside himself with rage at this. &ldquo;Oh, it&rsquo;s like that?&rdquo;
+       he shouted. &ldquo;Very well; I&rsquo;ll show you!&rdquo; And he sprang to the door and
+      opened it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the nurse never budged. &ldquo;Give me my five hundred francs!&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George seized her by the arm and shoved her toward the door. &ldquo;You clear
+      out of here, do you understand me? And as quickly as you can!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman shook her arm loose, and sneered into his face. &ldquo;Come now, you&mdash;you
+      can talk to me a little more politely, eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you go?&rdquo; shouted George, completely beside himself. &ldquo;Will you go, or
+      must I go out and look for a policeman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A policeman!&rdquo; demanded the woman. &ldquo;For what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To put you outside! You are behaving yourself like a thief.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A thief? I? What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean that you are demanding money which doesn&rsquo;t belong to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More than that,&rdquo; broke in Madame Dupont, &ldquo;you are destroying that poor
+      little baby! You are a wicked woman!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will put you out myself!&rdquo; shouted George, and seized her by the arm
+      again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it&rsquo;s like that, is it?&rdquo; retorted the nurse. &ldquo;Then you really want me
+      to tell you why I am going away?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, tell me!&rdquo; cried he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His mother added, &ldquo;Yes, yes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She would have spoken differently had she chanced to look behind her and
+      seen Henriette, who at that moment appeared in the doorway. She had been
+      about to go out, when her attention had been caught by the loud voices.
+      She stood now, amazed, clasping her hands together, while the nurse,
+      shaking her fist first at Madame Dupont and then at her son, cried loudly,
+      &ldquo;Very well! I&rsquo;m going away because I don&rsquo;t want to catch a filthy disease
+      here!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;HUSH!&rdquo; cried Madame Dupont, and sprang toward her, her hands clenched as
+      if she would choke her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be silent!&rdquo; cried George, wild with terror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the woman rushed on without dropping her voice, &ldquo;Oh, you need not be
+      troubling yourselves for fear anyone should overhear! All the world knows
+      it! Your other servants were listening with me at your door! They heard
+      every word your doctor said!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shut up!&rdquo; screamed George.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her mother seized the woman fiercely by the arm. &ldquo;Hold your tongue!&rdquo; she
+      hissed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But again the other shook herself loose. She was powerful, and now her
+      rage was not to be controlled. She waved her hands in the air, shouting,
+      &ldquo;Let me be, let me be! I know all about your brat&mdash;that you will
+      never be able to raise it&mdash;that it&rsquo;s rotten because it&rsquo;s father has a
+      filthy disease he got from a woman of the street!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She got no farther. She was interrupted by a frenzied shriek from
+      Henriette. The three turned, horrified, just in time to see her fall
+      forward upon the floor, convulsed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My God!&rdquo; cried George. He sprang toward her, and tried to lift her, but
+      she shrank from him, repelling him with a gesture of disgust, of hatred,
+      of the most profound terror. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t touch me!&rdquo; she screamed, like a
+      maniac. &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t touch me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was in vain that Madame Dupont sought to control her daughter-in-law.
+      Henriette was beside herself, frantic, she could not be brought to listen
+      to any one. She rushed into the other room, and when the older woman
+      followed her, shrieked out to be left alone. Afterwards, she fled to her
+      own room and barred herself in, and George and his mother waited
+      distractedly for hours until she should give some sign.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Would she kill herself, perhaps? Madame Dupont hovered on guard about the
+      door of the nursery for fear that the mother in her fit of insanity might
+      attempt some harm to her child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The nurse had slunk away abashed when she saw the consequences of her
+      outburst. By the time she had got her belongings packed, she had recovered
+      her assurance. She wanted her five hundred; also she wanted her wages and
+      her railroad fare home. She wanted them at once, and she would not leave
+      until she got them. George and his mother, in the midst of all their
+      anguish of mind, had to go through a disgusting scene with this coarse and
+      angry woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had no such sum of money in the house, and the nurse refused to
+      accept a check. She knew nothing about a check. It was so much paper, and
+      might be some trick that they were playing on her. She kept repeating her
+      old formula, &ldquo;I am nothing but a poor country woman.&rdquo; Nor would she be
+      contented with the promise that she would receive the money the next day.
+      She seemed to be afraid that if she left the house she would be
+      surrendering her claim. So at last the distracted George to sally forth
+      and obtain the cash from some tradesmen in the neighborhood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman took her departure. They made her sign a receipt in full for all
+      claims and they strove to persuade themselves that this made them safe;
+      but in their hearts they had no real conviction of safety. What was the
+      woman&rsquo;s signature, or her pledged word, against the cupidity of her
+      husband and relatives. Always she would have the dreadful secret to hold
+      over them, and so they would live under the shadow of possible blackmail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Later in the day Henriette sent for her mother-in-law. She was white, her
+      eyes were swollen with weeping, and she spoke in a voice choked with sobs.
+      She wished to return at once to her father&rsquo;s home, and to take little
+      Gervaise with her. Madame Dupont cried out in horror at this proposition,
+      and argued and pleaded and wept&mdash;but all to no purpose. The girl was
+      immovable. She would not stay under her husband&rsquo;s roof, and she would take
+      her child with her. It was her right, and no one could refuse her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The infant had been crying for hours, but that made no difference.
+      Henriette insisted that a cab should be called at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So she went back to the home of Monsieur Loches and told him the hideous
+      story. Never before in her life had she discussed such subjects with any
+      one, but now in her agitation she told her father all. As George had
+      declared to the doctor, Monsieur Loches was a person of violent temper; at
+      this revelation, at the sight of his daughter&rsquo;s agony, he was almost
+      beside himself. His face turned purple, the veins stood out on his
+      forehead; a trembling seized him. He declared that he would kill George&mdash;there
+      was nothing else to do. Such a scoundrel should not be permitted to live.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The effort which Henriette had to make to restrain him had a calming
+      effect upon herself. Bitter and indignant as she was, she did not want
+      George to be killed. She clung to her father, beseeching him to promise
+      her that he would not do such a thing; and all that day and evening she
+      watched him, unwilling to let him out of her sight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was a matter which claimed her immediate attention, and which helped
+      to withdraw them from the contemplation of their own sufferings. The
+      infant must be fed and cared for&mdash;the unhappy victim of other
+      people&rsquo;s sins, whose life was now imperiled. A dry nurse must be found at
+      once, a nurse competent to take every precaution and give the child every
+      chance. This nurse must be informed of the nature of the trouble&mdash;another
+      matter which required a great deal of anxious thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That evening came Madame Dupont, tormented by anxiety about the child&rsquo;s
+      welfare, and beseeching permission to help take care of it. It was
+      impossible to refuse such a request. Henriette could not endure to see
+      her, but the poor grandmother would come and sit for hours in the nursery,
+      watching the child and the nurse, in silent agony.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This continued for days, while poor George wandered about at home,
+      suffering such torment of mind as can hardly be imagined. Truly, in these
+      days he paid for his sins; he paid a thousand-fold in agonized and
+      impotent regret. He looked back upon the course of his life, and traced
+      one by one the acts which had led him and those he loved into this
+      nightmare of torment. He would have been willing to give his life if he
+      could have undone those acts. But avenging nature offered him no such easy
+      deliverance as that. We shudder as we read the grim words of the Jehovah
+      of the ancient Hebrews; and yet not all the learning of modern times has
+      availed to deliver us from the cruel decree, that the sins of the fathers
+      shall be visited upon the children.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George wrote notes to his wife, imploring her forgiveness. He poured out
+      all his agony and shame to her, begging her to see him just once, to give
+      him a chance to plead his defense. It was not much of a defense, to be
+      sure; it was only that he had done no worse than the others did&mdash;only
+      that he was a wretched victim of ignorance. But he loved her, he had
+      proven that he loved her, and he pleaded that for the sake of their child
+      she would forgive him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When all this availed nothing, he went to see the doctor, whose advice he
+      had so shamefully neglected. He besought this man to intercede for him&mdash;which
+      the doctor, of course, refused to do. It was an extra-medical matter, he
+      said, and George was absurd to expect him to meddle in it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, as a matter of fact, the doctor had already been interceding&mdash;he
+      had gone farther in pleading George&rsquo;s cause than he was willing to have
+      George know. For Monsieur Loches had paid him a visit&mdash;his purpose
+      being to ask the doctor to continue attendance upon the infant, and also
+      to give Henriette a certificate which she could use in her suit for a
+      divorce from her husband.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So inevitably there had been a discussion of the whole question between
+      the two men. The doctor had granted the first request, but refused the
+      second. In the first place, he said, there was a rule of professional
+      secrecy which would prevent him. And when the father-in-law requested to
+      know if the rule of professional secrecy compelled him to protect a
+      criminal against honest people, the doctor answered that even if his
+      ethics permitted it, he would still refuse the request. &ldquo;I would reproach
+      myself forever,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;if I had aided you to obtain such a divorce.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; cried the old man, vehemently, &ldquo;because you profess such and such
+      theories, because the exercise of your profession makes you the constant
+      witness of such miseries&mdash;therefore it is necessary that my daughter
+      should continue to bear that man&rsquo;s name all her life!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor answered, gently, &ldquo;Sir, I understand and respect your grief.
+      But believe me, you are not in a state of mind to decide about these
+      matters now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are mistaken,&rdquo; declared the other, controlling himself with an
+      effort. &ldquo;I have been thinking about nothing else for days. I have
+      discussed it with my daughter, and she agrees with me. Surely, sir, you
+      cannot desire that my daughter should continue to live with a man who has
+      struck her so brutal, so cowardly, a blow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I refuse your request,&rdquo; the doctor answered, &ldquo;it is in the interest of
+      your daughter.&rdquo; Then, seeing the other&rsquo;s excitement returning, he
+      continued, &ldquo;In your state of mind, Monsieur Loches, I know that you will
+      probably be abusing me before five minutes has passed. But that will not
+      trouble me. I have seen many cases. And since I have made the mistake of
+      letting myself be trapped into this discussion, I must explain to you the
+      reason for my attitude. You ask of me a certificate so that you may prove
+      in court that your son-in-law is afflicted with syphilis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Precisely,&rdquo; said the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And have you not reflected upon this&mdash;that at the same time you will
+      be publicly attesting that your daughter has been exposed to the
+      contagion? With such an admission, an admission officially registered in
+      the public records, do you believe that she will find it easy to re-marry
+      later on?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She will never re-marry,&rdquo; said the father.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She says that today, but can you affirm that she will say the same thing
+      five years from now, ten years from now? I tell you you will not obtain
+      that divorce, because I will most certainly refuse you the necessary
+      certificate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; cried the other, &ldquo;I will find other means of establishing proofs.
+      I will have the child examined by another doctor!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other answered. &ldquo;Then you do not find that that poor little one has
+      been already sufficiently handicapped at the outset of its life? Your
+      granddaughter has a physical defect. Do you wish to add to that a
+      certificate of hereditary syphilis, which will follow her all her life?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monsieur Loches sprang from his chair. &ldquo;You mean that if the victims seek
+      to defend themselves, they will be struck the harder! You mean that the
+      law gives me no weapon against a man who, knowing his condition, takes a
+      young girl, sound, trusting, innocent, and befouls her with the result of
+      his debauches&mdash;makes her the mother of a poor little creature, whose
+      future is such that those who love her the most do not know whether they
+      ought to pray for her life, or for her immediate deliverance? Sir,&rdquo; he
+      continued, in his orator&rsquo;s voice, &ldquo;that man has inflicted upon the woman
+      he has married a supreme insult. He has made her the victim of the most
+      odious assault. He has degraded her&mdash;he has brought her, so to speak,
+      into contact with the woman of the streets. He has created between her and
+      that common woman I know not what mysterious relationship. It is the
+      poisoned blood of the prostitute which poisons my daughter and her child;
+      that abject creature, she lives, she lives in us! She belongs to our
+      family&mdash;he has given her a seat at our hearth! He has soiled the
+      imagination and the thoughts of my poor child, as he has soiled her body.
+      He has united forever in her soul the idea of love which she has placed so
+      high, with I know not what horrors of the hospitals. He has tainted her in
+      her dignity and her modesty, in her love as well as in her baby. He has
+      struck her down with physical and moral decay, he has overwhelmed her with
+      vileness. And yet the law is such, the customs of society are such, that
+      the woman cannot separate herself from that man save by the aid of legal
+      proceedings whose scandal will fall upon herself and upon her child!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monsieur Loches had been pacing up and down the room as he spoke, and now
+      he clenched his fists in sudden fury.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well! I will not address myself to the law. Since I learned the
+      truth I have been asking myself if it was not my duty to find that monster
+      and to put a bullet into his head, as one does to a mad dog. I don&rsquo;t know
+      what weakness, what cowardice, has held me back, and decided me to appeal
+      to the law. Since the law will not protect me, I will seek justice for
+      myself. Perhaps his death will be a good warning for the others!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor shrugged his shoulders, as if to say that this was no affair of
+      his and that he would not try to interfere. But he remarked, quietly: &ldquo;You
+      will be tried for your life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall be acquitted!&rdquo; cried the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but after a public revelation of all your miseries. You will make
+      the scandal greater, the miseries greater&mdash;that is all. And how do
+      you know but that on the morrow of your acquittal, you will find yourself
+      confronting another court, a higher and more severe one? How do you know
+      but that your daughter, seized at last by pity for the man you have
+      killed, will not demand to know by what right you have acted so, by what
+      right you have made an orphan of her child? How can you know but that her
+      child also may some day demand an accounting of you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monsieur Loches let his hands fall, and stood, a picture of crushed
+      despair. &ldquo;Tell me then,&rdquo; he said, in a faint voice, &ldquo;what ought I to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a while the doctor sat looking at him. &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; he said, at last, &ldquo;tell
+      me one thing. You are inflexible; you feel you have the right to be
+      inflexible. But are you really so certain that it was not your duty, once
+      upon a time, to save your daughter from the possibility of such
+      misfortune?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What?&rdquo; cried the other. &ldquo;My duty? What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean this, sir. When that marriage was being discussed, you certainly
+      took precautions to inform yourself about the financial condition of your
+      future son-in-law. You demanded that he should prove to you that his
+      stocks and bonds were actual value, listed on the exchange. Also, you
+      obtained some information about his character. In fact, you forgot only
+      one point, the most important of all&mdash;that was, to inquire if he was
+      in good health. You never did that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The father-in-law&rsquo;s voice had become faint. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because that is not the custom.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, but that ought to be the custom. Surely the father of a
+      family, before he gives his daughter to a man, should take as much
+      precaution as a business concern which accepts an employee.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right,&rdquo; was the reply, &ldquo;there should be a law.&rdquo; The man spoke as
+      a deputy, having authority in these matters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the doctor cried, &ldquo;No, no, sir! Do not make a new law. We have too
+      many already. There is no need of it. It would suffice that people should
+      know a little better what syphilis is. The custom would establish itself
+      very quickly for a suitor to add to all the other documents which he
+      presents, a certificate of a doctor, as proof that he could be received
+      into a family without bringing a pestilence with him. That would be very
+      simple. Once let the custom be established, then the suitor would go to
+      the doctor for a certificate of health, just as he goes to the priest for
+      a certificate that he has confessed; and by that means you would prevent a
+      great deal of suffering in the world. Or let me put it another way, sir.
+      Nowadays, before you conclude a marriage, you get the lawyers of the two
+      families together. It would be of at least equal importance to get their
+      two doctors together. You see, sir, your inquiry concerning your
+      son-in-law was far from complete. So your daughter may fairly ask you, why
+      you, being a man, being a father who ought to know these things, did not
+      take as much care of her health as you took of her fortune. So it is, sir,
+      that I say to you, forgive!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Monsieur Loches said again, &ldquo;Never!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And again the doctor sat and watched him for a minute. &ldquo;Come, sir,&rdquo; he
+      began, finally, &ldquo;since it is necessary to employ the last argument, I will
+      do so. To be so severe and so pitiless&mdash;are you yourself without
+      sin?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other answered, &ldquo;I have never had a shameful disease.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not ask you that,&rdquo; interrupted the doctor. &ldquo;I ask you if you have
+      never exposed yourself to the chance of having it.&rdquo; And then, reading the
+      other&rsquo;s face, he went on, in a tone of quiet certainty. &ldquo;Yes, you have
+      exposed yourself. Then, sir, it was not virtue that you had; it was good
+      fortune. That is one of the things which exasperate me the most&mdash;that
+      term &lsquo;shameful disease&rsquo; which you have just used. Like all other diseases,
+      that is one of our misfortunes, and it is never shameful to be unfortunate&mdash;even
+      if one has deserved it.&rdquo; The doctor paused, and then with some excitement
+      he went on: &ldquo;Come, sir, come, we must understand each other. Among men the
+      most exacting, among those who with their middle-class prudery dare not
+      pronounce the name of syphilis, or who make the most terrifying faces, the
+      most disgusted, when they consent to speak of it&mdash;who regard the
+      syphilitic as sinners&mdash;I should wish to know how many there are who
+      have never exposed themselves to a similar misadventure. They and they
+      alone have the right to speak. How many are there? Among a thousand men,
+      are there four? Very well, then. Excepting those four, between all the
+      rest and the syphilitic there is nothing but the difference of chance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There came into the doctor&rsquo;s voice at this moment a note of intense
+      feeling; for these were matters of which evidence came to him every day.
+      &ldquo;I tell you, sir, that such people are deserving of sympathy, because they
+      are suffering. If they have committed a fault, they have at least the plea
+      that they are expiating it. No, sir, let me hear no more of that
+      hypocrisy. Recall your own youth, sir. That which afflicts your
+      son-in-law, you have deserved it just as much as he&mdash;more than he,
+      perhaps. Therefore, have pity on him; have for him the toleration which
+      the unpunished criminal ought to have for the criminal less fortunate than
+      himself upon whom the penalty has fallen. Is that not so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monsieur Loches had been listening to this discourse with the feeling of a
+      thief before the bar. There was nothing that he could answer. &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; he
+      stammered, &ldquo;as you present this thing to me&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But am I not right?&rdquo; insisted the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps you are,&rdquo; the other admitted. &ldquo;But&mdash;I cannot say all that to
+      my daughter, to persuade her to go back to her husband.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can give her other arguments,&rdquo; was the answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What arguments, in God&rsquo;s name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no lack of them. You will say to her that a separation would be
+      a misfortune for all; that her husband is the only one in the world who
+      would be devoted enough to help her save her child. You will say to her
+      that out of the ruins of her first happiness she can build herself another
+      structure, far stronger. And, sir, you will add to that whatever your good
+      heart may suggest&mdash;and we will arrange so that the next child of the
+      pair shall be sound and vigorous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monsieur Loches received this announcement with the same surprise that
+      George himself had manifested. &ldquo;Is that possible?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor cried: &ldquo;Yes, yes, yes&mdash;a thousand times yes! There is a
+      phrase which I repeat on every occasion, and which I would wish to post
+      upon the walls. It is that syphilis is an imperious mistress, who only
+      demands that one should recognize her power. She is terrible for those who
+      think her insignificant, and gentle with those who know how dangerous she
+      is. You know that kind of mistress&mdash;who is only vexed when she is
+      neglected. You may tell this to your daughter&mdash;you will restore her
+      to the arms of her husband, from whom she has no longer anything to fear,
+      and I will guarantee that you will be a happy grandfather two years from
+      now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monsieur Loches at last showed that he was weakened in his resolution.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doctor,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I do not know that I can ever go so far as
+      forgiveness, but I promise you that I will do no irreparable act, and that
+      I will not oppose a reconciliation if after the lapse of some time&mdash;I
+      cannot venture to say how long&mdash;my poor child should make up her mind
+      to a reconciliation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very good,&rdquo; said the other. &ldquo;But let me add this: If you have another
+      daughter, take care to avoid the fault which you committed when you
+      married off the first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; said the old man, &ldquo;I did not know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, surely!&rdquo; cried the other. &ldquo;You did not know! You are a father, and
+      you did not know! You are a deputy, you have assumed the responsibility
+      and the honor of making our laws&mdash;and you did not know! You are
+      ignorant about syphilis, just as you probably are ignorant about
+      alcoholism and tuberculosis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; exclaimed the other, quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;I will leave you out, if you wish. I am
+      talking of the others, the five hundred, and I don&rsquo;t know how many more,
+      who are there in the Chamber of Deputies, and who call themselves
+      representatives of the people. They are not able to find a single hour to
+      discuss these three cruel gods, to which egotism and indifference make
+      every day such frightful human sacrifices. They have not sufficient
+      leisure to combat this ferocious trinity, which destroys every day
+      thousands of lives. Alcoholism! It would be necessary to forbid the
+      manufacture of poisons, and to restrict the number of licenses; but as one
+      has fear of the great distillers, who are rich and powerful, and of the
+      little dealers, who are the masters of universal suffrage, one puts one&rsquo;s
+      conscience to sleep by lamenting the immorality of the working-class, and
+      publishing little pamphlets and sermons. Imbeciles!...Tuberculosis!
+      Everybody knows the true remedy, which would be the paying of sufficient
+      wages, and the tearing down of the filthy tenements into which the
+      laborers are packed&mdash;those who are the most useful and the most
+      unfortunate among our population! But needless to say, no one wants that
+      remedy, so we go round begging the workingmen not to spit on the
+      sidewalks. Wonderful! But syphilis&mdash;why do you not occupy yourself
+      with that? Why, since you have ministers whose duty it is to attend to all
+      sorts of things, do you not have a minister to attend to the public
+      health?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Doctor,&rdquo; responded Monsieur Loches, &ldquo;you fall into the French
+      habit of considering the government as the cause of all evils. Show us the
+      way, you learned gentlemen! Since that is a matter about which you are
+      informed, and we are ignorant, begin by telling us what measures you
+      believe to be necessary.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, ah!&rdquo; exclaimed the other. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s fine, indeed! It was about eighteen
+      years ago that a project of that nature, worked out by the Academy of
+      Medicine, and approved by it UNANIMOUSLY, was sent to the proper minister.
+      We have not yet heard his reply.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You really believe,&rdquo; inquired Monsieur Loches, in some bewilderment, &ldquo;you
+      believe that there are some measures&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir,&rdquo; broke in the doctor, &ldquo;before we get though, you are going to
+      suggest some measures yourself. Let me tell you what happened today. When
+      I received your card I did not know that you were the father-in-law of
+      George Dupont. I say that you were a deputy, and I thought that you wanted
+      to get some information about these matters. There was a woman patient
+      waiting to see me, and I kept her in my waiting-room&mdash;saying to
+      myself, This is just the sort of person that our deputies ought to talk
+      to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor paused for a moment, then continued: &ldquo;Be reassured, I will take
+      care of your nerves. This patient has no trouble that is apparent to the
+      eye. She is simply an illustration of the argument I have been advancing&mdash;that
+      our worst enemy is ignorance. Ignorance&mdash;you understand me? Since I
+      have got you here, sir, I am going to hold you until I have managed to
+      cure a little of your ignorance! For I tell you, sir, it is a thing which
+      drives me to distraction&mdash;we MUST do something about these
+      conditions! Take this case, for example. Here is a woman who is very
+      seriously infected. I told her&mdash;well, wait; you shall see for
+      yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor went to the door and summoned into the room a woman whom
+      Monsieur Loches had noticed waiting there. She was verging on old age,
+      small, frail, and ill-nourished in appearance, poorly dressed, and yet
+      with a suggestion of refinement about her. She stood near the door,
+      twisting her hands together nervously, and shrinking from the gaze of the
+      strange gentleman. The doctor began in an angry voice. &ldquo;Did I not tell you
+      to come and see me once every eight days? Is that not true?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman answered, in a faint voice, &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;and how long has it been since you were here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three months, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three months! And you believe that I can take care of you under such
+      conditions? I give you up! Do you understand? You discourage me, you
+      discourage me.&rdquo; There was a pause. Then, seeing the woman&rsquo;s suffering, he
+      began, in a gentler tone, &ldquo;Come now, what is the reason that you have not
+      come? Didn&rsquo;t you know that you have a serious disease&mdash;most serious?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, sir,&rdquo; replied the woman, &ldquo;I know that very well&mdash;since my
+      husband died of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor&rsquo;s voice bore once again its note of pity. &ldquo;Your husband died of
+      it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He took no care of himself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And was not that a warning to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Doctor,&rdquo; the woman replied, &ldquo;I would ask nothing better than to come as
+      often as you told me, but the cost is too great.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How&mdash;what cost? You were coming to my free clinic.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; replied the woman, &ldquo;but that&rsquo;s during working hours, and then
+      it is a long way from home. There are so many sick people, and I have to
+      wait my turn, It is in the morning&mdash;sometimes I lose a whole day&mdash;and
+      then my employer is annoyed, and he threatens to turn me off. It is things
+      like that that keep people from coming, until they dare not put it off any
+      longer. Then, too, sir&mdash;&rdquo; the woman stopped, hesitating.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; demanded the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, nothing, sir,&rdquo; she stammered. &ldquo;You have been too good to me already.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go on,&rdquo; commanded the other. &ldquo;Tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; murmured the woman, &ldquo;I know I ought not to put on airs, but you
+      see I have not always been so poor. Before my husband&rsquo;s misfortune, we
+      were well fixed. So you see, I have a little pride. I have always managed
+      to take care of myself. I am not a woman of the streets, and to stand
+      around like that, with everybody else, to be obliged to tell all one&rsquo;s
+      miseries out loud before the world! I am wrong, I know it perfectly well;
+      I argue with myself&mdash;but all the same, it&rsquo;s hard, sir; I assure you,
+      it is truly hard.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor woman!&rdquo; said the doctor; and for a while there was a silence. Then
+      he asked: &ldquo;It was your husband who brought you the disease?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir,&rdquo; was the reply. &ldquo;Everything which happened to us came from him.
+      We were living in the country when he got the disease. He went half crazy.
+      He no longer knew how to manage his affairs. He gave orders here and there
+      for considerable sums. We were not able to find the money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did he not undergo treatment?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He didn&rsquo;t know then. We were sold out, and we came to Paris. But we
+      hadn&rsquo;t a penny. He decided to go to the hospital for treatment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, they looked him over, but they refused him any medicine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How was that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because we had been in Paris only three months. If one hasn&rsquo;t been a
+      resident six months, one has no right to free medicine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that true?&rdquo; broke in Monsieur Loches quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s the rule.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you see,&rdquo; said the woman, &ldquo;it was not our fault.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You never had children?&rdquo; inquired the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was never able to bring one to birth,&rdquo; was the answer. &ldquo;My husband was
+      taken just at the beginning of our marriage&mdash;it was while he was
+      serving in the army. You know, sir&mdash;there are women about the
+      garrisons&mdash;&rdquo; She stopped, and there was a long silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s all right. I will arrange it with you.
+      You can come here to my office, and you can come on Sunday mornings.&rdquo; And
+      as the poor creature started to express her gratitude, he slipped a coin
+      into her hand. &ldquo;Come, come; take it,&rdquo; he said gruffly. &ldquo;You are not going
+      to play proud with me. No, no, I have no time to listen to you. Hush!&rdquo; And
+      he pushed her out of the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then he turned to the deputy. &ldquo;You heard her story, sir,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Her
+      husband was serving his time in the army; it was you law-makers who
+      compelled him to do that. And there are women about the garrisons&mdash;you
+      heard how her voice trembled as she said that? Take my advice, sir, and
+      look up the statistics as to the prevalence of this disease among our
+      soldiers. Come to some of my clinics, and let me introduce you to other
+      social types. You don&rsquo;t care very much about soldiers, perhaps&mdash;they
+      belong to the lower classes, and you think of them as rough men. But let
+      me show you what is going on among our college students&mdash;among the
+      men our daughters are some day to marry. Let me show you the women who
+      prey upon them! Perhaps, who knows&mdash;I can show you the very woman who
+      was the cause of all the misery in your own family!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And as Monsieur Loches rose from his chair, the doctor came to him and
+      took him by the hand. &ldquo;Promise me, sir,&rdquo; he said, earnestly, &ldquo;that you
+      will come back and let me teach you more about these matters. It is a
+      chance that I must not let go&mdash;the first time in my life that I ever
+      got hold of a real live deputy! Come and make a study of this subject, and
+      let us try to work out some sensible plan, and get seriously to work to
+      remedy these frightful evils!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      George lived with his mother after Henriette had left his home. He was
+      wretchedly unhappy and lonely. He could find no interest in any of the
+      things which had pleased him before. He was ashamed to meet any of his
+      friends, because he imagined that everyone must have heard the dreadful
+      story&mdash;or because he was not equal to making up explanations for his
+      mournful state. He no longer cared much about his work. What was the use
+      of making a reputation or earning large fees when one had nothing to spend
+      them for?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All his thoughts were fixed upon the wife and child he had lost. He was
+      reminded of Henriette in a thousand ways, and each way brought him a
+      separate pang of grief. He had never realized how much he had come to
+      depend upon her in every little thing&mdash;until now, when her
+      companionship was withdrawn from him, and everything seemed to be a blank.
+      He would come home at night, and opposite to him at the dinner-table would
+      be his mother, silent and spectral. How different from the days when
+      Henriette was there, radiant and merry, eager to be told everything that
+      had happened to him through the day!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was also his worry about little Gervaise. He might no longer hear
+      how she was doing, for he could not get up courage to ask his mother the
+      news. Thus poor George was paying for his sins. He could make no
+      complaints against the price, however high&mdash;only sometimes he
+      wondered whether he would be able to pay it. There were times of such
+      discouragement that he thought of different ways of killing himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A curious adventure befell him during this period. He was walking one day
+      in the park, when he saw approaching a girl whose face struck him as
+      familiar. At first he could not recollect where he had seen her. It was
+      only when she was nearly opposite him that he realized&mdash;it was the
+      girl who had been the cause of all his misery!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He tried to look away, but he was too late. Her eyes had caught his, and
+      she nodded and then stopped, exclaiming, &ldquo;Why, how do you do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George had to face her. &ldquo;How do you do?&rdquo; he responded, weakly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She held out her hand and he had to take it, but there was not much
+      welcome in his clasp. &ldquo;Where have you been keeping yourself?&rdquo; she asked.
+      Then, as he hesitated, she laughed good-naturedly, &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter? You
+      don&rsquo;t seem glad to see me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl&mdash;Therese was her name&mdash;had a little package under her
+      arm, as if she had been shopping. She was not well dressed, as when George
+      had met her before, and doubtless she thought that was the reason for his
+      lack of cordiality. This made him rather ashamed, and so, only half
+      realizing what he was doing, he began to stroll along with her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you never come to see me again?&rdquo; she asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George hesitated. &ldquo;I&mdash;I&mdash;&rdquo; he stammered&mdash;&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve been married
+      since then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She laughed. &ldquo;Oh! So that&rsquo;s it!&rdquo; And then, as they came to a bench under
+      some trees, &ldquo;Won&rsquo;t you sit down a while?&rdquo; There was allurement in her
+      glance, but it made George shudder. It was incredible to him that he had
+      ever been attracted by this crude girl. The spell was now broken
+      completely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She quickly saw that something was wrong. &ldquo;You don&rsquo;t seem very cheerful,&rdquo;
+       she said. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the man, staring at her, suddenly blurted out, &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you know what
+      you did to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I did to you?&rdquo; Therese repeated wonderingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must know!&rdquo; he insisted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then she tried to meet his gaze and could not. &ldquo;Why&mdash;&rdquo; she
+      stammered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was silence between them. When George spoke again his voice was low
+      and trembling. &ldquo;You ruined my whole life,&rdquo; he said&mdash;&ldquo;not only mine,
+      but my family&rsquo;s. How could you do it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She strove to laugh it off. &ldquo;A cheerful topic for an afternoon stroll!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a long while George did not answer. Then, almost in a whisper, he
+      repeated, &ldquo;How could you do it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some one did it to me first,&rdquo; was the response. &ldquo;A man!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said George, &ldquo;but he didn&rsquo;t know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can you tell whether he knew or not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You knew?&rdquo; he inquired, wonderingly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Therese hesitated. &ldquo;Yes, I knew,&rdquo; she said at last, defiantly. &ldquo;I have
+      known for years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I&rsquo;m not the only man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She laughed. &ldquo;I guess not!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There followed a long pause. At last he resumed, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to blame
+      you; there&rsquo;s nothing to be gained by that; it&rsquo;s done, and can&rsquo;t be undone.
+      But sometimes I wonder about it. I should like to understand&mdash;why did
+      you do it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? That&rsquo;s easy enough. I did it because I have to live.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You live that way?&rdquo; he exclaimed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why of course. What did you think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought you were a&mdash;a&mdash;&rdquo; He hesitated.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You thought I was respectable,&rdquo; laughed Therese. &ldquo;Well, that&rsquo;s just a
+      little game I was playing on you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I didn&rsquo;t give you any money!&rdquo; he argued.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not that time,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;but I thought you would come back.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He sat gazing at her. &ldquo;And you earn your living that way still?&rdquo; he asked.
+      &ldquo;When you know what&rsquo;s the matter with you! When you know&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What can I do? I have to live, don&rsquo;t I?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But don&rsquo;t you even take care of yourself? Surely there must be some way,
+      some place&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The reformatory, perhaps,&rdquo; she sneered. &ldquo;No, thanks! I&rsquo;ll go there when
+      the police catch me, not before. I know some girls that have tried that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But aren&rsquo;t you afraid?&rdquo; cried the man. &ldquo;And the things that will happen
+      to you! Have you ever talked to a doctor&mdash;or read a book?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve seen it all. If it comes to me, I&rsquo;ll go over the
+      side of one of the bridges some dark night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George sat lost in thought. A strange adventure it seemed to him&mdash;to
+      meet this girl under such different circumstances! It was as if he were
+      watching a play from behind the scenes instead of in front. If only he had
+      had this new view in time&mdash;how different would have been his life!
+      And how terrible it was to think of the others who didn&rsquo;t know&mdash;the
+      audience who were still sitting out in front, watching the spectacle,
+      interested in it!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His thoughts came back to Therese. He was curious about her and the life
+      she lived. &ldquo;Tell me a little about it,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;How you came to be doing
+      this.&rdquo; And he added, &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t think I want to preach; I&rsquo;d really like to
+      understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it&rsquo;s a common story,&rdquo; she said&mdash;&ldquo;nothing especially romantic. I
+      came to Paris when I was a girl. My parents had died, and I had no
+      friends, and I didn&rsquo;t know what to do. I got a place as a nursemaid. I was
+      seventeen years old then, and I didn&rsquo;t know anything. I believed what I
+      was told, and I believed my employer. His wife was ill in a hospital, and
+      he said he wanted to marry me when she died. Well, I liked him, and I was
+      sorry for him&mdash;and then the first thing I knew I had a baby. And then
+      the wife came back, and I was turned off. I had been a fool, of course. If
+      I had been in her place should have done just what she did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl was speaking in a cold, matter-of-fact voice, as of things about
+      which she was no longer able to suffer. &ldquo;So, there I was&mdash;on the
+      street,&rdquo; she went on. &ldquo;You have always had money, a comfortable home,
+      education, friends to help you&mdash;all that. You can&rsquo;t imagine how it is
+      to be in the world without any of these things. I lived on my savings as
+      long as I could; then I had to leave my baby in a foundling&rsquo;s home, and I
+      went out to do my five hours on the boulevards. You know the game, I have
+      no doubt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Yes, George knew the game. Somehow or other he no longer felt bitter
+      towards this poor creature. She was part of the system of which he was a
+      victim also. There was nothing to be gained by hating each other. Just as
+      the doctor said, what was needed was enlightenment. &ldquo;Listen,&rdquo; he said,
+      &ldquo;why don&rsquo;t you try to get cured?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haven&rsquo;t got the price,&rdquo; was the answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; he said, hesitatingly, &ldquo;I know a doctor&mdash;one of the really
+      good men. He has a free clinic, and I&rsquo;ve no doubt he would take you in if
+      I asked him to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;YOU ask him?&rdquo; echoed the other, looking at George in surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man felt somewhat uncomfortable. He was not used to playing the
+      role of the good Samaritan. &ldquo;I&mdash;I need not tell him about us,&rdquo; he
+      stammered. &ldquo;I could just say that I met you. I have had such a wretched
+      time myself, I feel sorry for anybody that&rsquo;s in the same plight. I should
+      like to help you if I could.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The girl sat staring before her, lost in thought. &ldquo;I have treated you
+      badly, I guess,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry. I&rsquo;m ashamed of myself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      George took a pencil and paper from his pocket and wrote the doctor&rsquo;s
+      address. &ldquo;Here it is,&rdquo; he said, in a business-like way, because he felt
+      that otherwise he could become sentimental. He was half tempted to tell
+      the woman what had happened to him, and all about Henriette and the sick
+      child; but he realized that that would not do. So he rose and shook hands
+      with her and left.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The next time he saw the doctor he told him about this girl. He decided to
+      tell him the truth&mdash;having already made so many mistakes trying to
+      conceal things. The doctor agreed to treat the woman, making the condition
+      that George promise not to see her again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man was rather shocked at this. &ldquo;Doctor,&rdquo; he exclaimed, &ldquo;I
+      assure you you are mistaken. The thing you have in mind would be utterly
+      impossible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know,&rdquo; said the other, &ldquo;you think so. But I think, young man, that I
+      know more about life than you do. When a man and a woman have once
+      committed such a sin, it is easy for them to slip back. The less time they
+      spend talking about their misfortunes, and being generous and forbearing
+      to each other, the better for them both.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, Doctor,&rdquo; cried George. &ldquo;I love Henriette! I could not possibly love
+      anyone else. It would be horrible to me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; said the doctor. &ldquo;But you are not living with Henriette. You are
+      wandering round, not knowing what to do with yourself next.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no need for anybody to tell George that. &ldquo;What do you think?&rdquo; he
+      asked abruptly. &ldquo;Is there any hope for me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think there is,&rdquo; said the other, who, in spite of his resolution, had
+      become a sort of ambassador for the unhappy husband. He had to go to the
+      Loches house to attend the child, and so he could not help seeing
+      Henriette, and talking to her about the child&rsquo;s health and her own future.
+      He considered that George had had his lesson, and urged upon the young
+      wife that he would be wiser in future, and safe to trust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George had indeed learned much. He got new lessons every time he went to
+      call at the physician&rsquo;s office&mdash;he could read them in the faces of
+      the people he saw there. One day when he was alone in the waiting-room,
+      the doctor came out of his inner office, talking to an elderly gentleman,
+      whom George recognized as the father of one of his classmates at college.
+      The father was a little shopkeeper, and the young man remembered how
+      pathetically proud he had been of his son. Could it be, thought George,
+      that this old man was a victim of syphilis?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But it was the son, and not the father, who was the subject of the
+      consultation. The old man was speaking in a deeply moved voice, and he
+      stood so that George could not help hearing what he said. &ldquo;Perhaps you
+      can&rsquo;t understand,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;just what it means to us&mdash;the hopes we
+      had of that boy! Such a fine fellow he was, and a good fellow, too, sir!
+      We were so proud of him; we had bled our veins to keep him in college&mdash;and
+      now just see!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don&rsquo;t despair, sir,&rdquo; said the doctor, &ldquo;we&rsquo;ll try to cure him.&rdquo; And he
+      added with that same note of sorrow in his voice which George had heard,
+      &ldquo;Why did you wait so long before you brought the boy to me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How was I to know what he had?&rdquo; cried the other. &ldquo;He didn&rsquo;t dare tell me,
+      sir&mdash;he was afraid of my scolding him. And in the meantime the
+      disease was running its course. When he realized that he had it, he went
+      secretly to one of the quacks, who robbed him, and didn&rsquo;t cure him. You
+      know how it is, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I know,&rdquo; said the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Such things ought not to be permitted,&rdquo; cried the old man. &ldquo;What is our
+      government about that it allows such things to go on? Take the conditions
+      there at the college where my poor boy was ruined. At the very gates of
+      the building these women are waiting for the lads! Ought they to be
+      permitted to debauch young boys only fifteen years old? Haven&rsquo;t we got
+      police enough to prevent a thing like that? Tell me, sir!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One would think so,&rdquo; said the doctor, patiently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But is it that the police don&rsquo;t want to?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No doubt they have the same excuse as all the rest&mdash;they don&rsquo;t know.
+      Take courage, sir; we have cured worse cases than your son&rsquo;s. And some
+      day, perhaps, we shall be able to change these conditions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So he went on with the man, leaving George with something to think about.
+      How much he could have told them about what had happened to that young
+      fellow when only fifteen years old! It had not been altogether the fault
+      of the women who were lurking outside of the college gates; it was a fact
+      that the boy&rsquo;s classmates had teased him and ridiculed him, had literally
+      made his life a torment, until he had yielded to temptation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the old, old story of ignorant and unguided schoolboys all over the
+      world! They thought that to be chaste was to be weak and foolish; that a
+      fellow was not a man unless he led a life of debauchery like the rest. And
+      what did they know about these dreadful diseases? They had the most
+      horrible superstitions&mdash;ideas of cures so loathsome that they could
+      not be set down in print; ideas as ignorant and destructive as those of
+      savages in the heart of Africa. And you might hear them laughing and
+      jesting about one another&rsquo;s condition. They might be afflicted with
+      diseases which would have the most terrible after-effects upon their whole
+      lives and upon their families&mdash;diseases which cause tens of thousands
+      of surgical operations upon women, and a large percentage of blindness and
+      idiocy in children&mdash;and you might hear them confidently express the
+      opinion that these diseases were no worse than a bad cold!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And all this mass of misery and ignorance covered over and clamped down by
+      a taboo of silence, imposed by the horrible superstition of sex-prudery!
+      George went out from the doctor&rsquo;s office trembling with excitement over
+      this situation. Oh, why had not some one warned him in time? Why didn&rsquo;t
+      the doctors and the teachers lift up their voices and tell young men about
+      these frightful dangers? He wanted to go out in the highways and preach it
+      himself&mdash;except that he dared not, because he could not explain to
+      the world his own sudden interest in this forbidden topic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These was only one person he dared to talk to: that was his mother&mdash;to
+      whom he ought to have talked many, many years before. He was moved to
+      mention to her the interview he had overheard in the doctor&rsquo;s office. In a
+      sudden burst of grief he told her of his struggles and temptations; he
+      pleaded with her to go to Henriette once more&mdash;to tell her these
+      things, and try to make her realize that he alone was not to blame for
+      them, that they were a condition which prevailed everywhere, that the only
+      difference between her husband and other men was that he had had the
+      misfortune to be caught.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was pressure being applied to Henriette from several sides. After
+      all, what could she do? She was comfortable in her father&rsquo;s home, so far
+      as the physical side of things went; but she knew that all her friends
+      were gossiping and speculating about her separation from her husband, and
+      sooner or later she would have to make up her mind, either to separate
+      permanently from George or to return to him. There was not much happiness
+      for her in the thought of getting a divorce from a man whom deep in her
+      heart she loved. She would be practically a widow the rest of her life,
+      and the home in which poor little Gervaise would be brought up would not
+      be a cheerful one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      George was ready to offer any terms, if only she would come back to his
+      home. They might live separate lives for as long as Henriette wished. They
+      would have no more children until the doctor declared it was quite safe;
+      and in the meantime he would be humble and patient, and would try his best
+      to atone for the wrong that he had done her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To these arguments Madame Dupont added others of her own. She told the
+      girl some things which through bitter experience she had learned about the
+      nature and habits of men; things that should be told to every girl before
+      marriage, but which almost all of them are left to find out afterwards,
+      with terrible suffering and disillusionment. Whatever George&rsquo;s sins may
+      have been, he was a man who had been chastened by suffering, and would
+      know how to value a woman&rsquo;s love for the rest of his life. Not all men
+      knew that&mdash;not even those who had been fortunate in escaping from the
+      so-called &ldquo;shameful disease.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Henriette was also hearing arguments from her father, who by this time had
+      had time to think things over, and had come to the conclusion that the
+      doctor was right. He had noted his son-in-law&rsquo;s patience and penitence,
+      and had also made sure that in spite of everything Henriette still loved
+      him. The baby apparently was doing well; and the Frenchman, with his
+      strong sense of family ties, felt it a serious matter to separate a child
+      permanently from its father. So in the end he cast the weight of his
+      influence in favor of a reconciliation, and Henriette returned to her
+      husband, upon terms which the doctor laid down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor played in these negotiations the part which he had not been
+      allowed to play in the marriage. For the deputy was now thoroughly awake
+      to the importance of the duty he owed his daughter. In fact, he had become
+      somewhat of a &ldquo;crank&rdquo; upon the whole subject. He had attended several of
+      the doctor&rsquo;s clinics, and had read books and pamphlets on the subject of
+      syphilis, and was now determined that there should be some practical steps
+      towards reform.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the outset, he had taken the attitude of the average legislator, that
+      the thing to do was to strengthen the laws against prostitution, and to
+      enforce them more strictly. He echoed the cry of the old man whom George
+      had heard in the doctor&rsquo;s office: &ldquo;Are there not enough police?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must go to the source,&rdquo; he declared. &ldquo;We must proceed against these
+      miserable women&mdash;veritable poisoners that they are!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He really thought this was going to the source! But the doctor was quick
+      to answer his arguments. &ldquo;Poisoners?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You forget that they have
+      first been poisoned. Every one of these women who communicates the disease
+      has first received it from some man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Monsieur Loches advanced to his second idea, to punish the men. But the
+      doctor had little interest in this idea either. He had seen it tried so
+      many times&mdash;such a law could never be enforced. What must come first
+      was education, and by this means a modification of morals. People must
+      cease to treat syphilis as a mysterious evil, of which not even the name
+      could be pronounced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But,&rdquo; objected the other, &ldquo;one cannot lay it bare to children in our
+      educational institutions!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not?&rdquo; asked the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because, sir, there are curiosities which it would be imprudent to
+      awaken.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor became much excited whenever he heard this argument. &ldquo;You
+      believe that you are preventing these curiosities from awakening?&rdquo; he
+      demanded. &ldquo;I appeal to those&mdash;both men and women&mdash;who have
+      passed through colleges and boarding schools! Such curiosities cannot be
+      smothered, and they satisfy themselves as best they can, basely, vilely. I
+      tell you, sir, there is nothing immoral about the act which perpetuates
+      life by means of love. But we organize around it, so far as concerns our
+      children, a gigantic and rigorous conspiracy of silence. The worthy
+      citizen takes his daughter and his son to popular musical comedies, where
+      they listen to things which would make a monkey blush; but it is forbidden
+      to discuss seriously before the young that act of love which people seem
+      to think they should only know of through blasphemies and profanations!
+      Either that act is a thing of which people can speak without blushing&mdash;or
+      else, sir, it is a matter for the innuendoes of the cabaret and the
+      witticisms of the messroom! Pornography is admitted, but science is not! I
+      tell you, sir, that is the thing which must be changed! We must elevate
+      the soul of the young man by taking these facts out of the realm of
+      mystery and of slang. We must awaken in him a pride in that creative power
+      with which each one of us is endowed. We must make him understand that he
+      is a sort of temple in which is prepared the future of the race, and we
+      must teach him that he must transmit, intact, the heritage entrusted to
+      him&mdash;the precious heritage which has been built out of the tears and
+      miseries and sufferings of an interminable line of ancestors!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So the doctor argued. He brought forth case after case to prove that the
+      prostitute was what she was, not because of innate vileness, but because
+      of economic conditions. It happened that the deputy came to one of the
+      clinics where he met Therese. The doctor brought her into his consulting
+      room, after telling her that the imposing-looking gentleman was a friend
+      of the director of the opera, and might be able to recommend her for a
+      position on the stage to which she aspired. &ldquo;Tell him all about yourself,&rdquo;
+       he said, &ldquo;how you live, and what you do, and what you would like to do.
+      You will get him interested in you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So the poor girl retold the story of her life. She spoke in a
+      matter-of-fact voice, and when she came to tell how she had been obliged
+      to leave her baby in the foundling asylum, she was surprised that Monsieur
+      Loches showed horror. &ldquo;What could I do?&rdquo; she demanded. &ldquo;How could I have
+      taken care of it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you ever miss it?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I missed it. But what difference did that make? It would have
+      died of hunger with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Still,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;it was your child&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was the father&rsquo;s child, too, wasn&rsquo;t it? Much attention he paid to it!
+      If I had been sure of getting money enough, I would have put it out to
+      nurse. But with the twenty-five or thirty francs a month I could have
+      earned as a servant, could I have paid for a baby? That&rsquo;s the situation a
+      girl faces&mdash;so long as I wanted to remain honest, it was impossible
+      for me to keep my child. You answer, perhaps, &lsquo;You didn&rsquo;t stay honest
+      anyway.&rsquo; That&rsquo;s true. But then&mdash;when you are hungry, and a nice young
+      fellow offers you dinner, you&rsquo;d have to be made of wood to refuse him. Of
+      course, if I had had a trade&mdash;but I didn&rsquo;t have any. So I went on the
+      street&mdash;You know how it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell us about it,&rdquo; said the doctor. &ldquo;This gentleman is from the country.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that so?&rdquo; said the girl. &ldquo;I never supposed there was anyone who didn&rsquo;t
+      know about such things. Well, I took the part of a little working-girl. A
+      very simple dress&mdash;things I had made especially for that&mdash;a
+      little bundle in a black napkin carried in my hand&mdash;so I walked along
+      where the shops are. It&rsquo;s tiresome, because to do it right, you have to
+      patter along fast. Then I stop before a shop, and nine times out of ten,
+      there you are! A funny thing is that the men&mdash;you&rsquo;d imagine they had
+      agreed on the words to approach you with. They have only two phrases; they
+      never vary them. It&rsquo;s either, &lsquo;You are going fast, little one.&rsquo; Or it&rsquo;s,
+      &lsquo;Aren&rsquo;t you afraid all alone?&rsquo; One thing or the other. One knows pretty
+      well what they mean. Isn&rsquo;t it so?&rdquo; The girl paused, then went on. &ldquo;Again,
+      I would get myself up as a young widow. There, too, one has to walk fast:
+      I don&rsquo;t know why that should be so, but it is. After a minute or two of
+      conversation, they generally find out that I am not a young widow, but
+      that doesn&rsquo;t make any difference&mdash;they go on just the same.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are the men?&rdquo; asked the deputy. &ldquo;Clerks? Traveling salesmen?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not much,&rdquo; she responded. &ldquo;I keep a lookout for gentlemen&mdash;like
+      yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They SAY they are gentlemen,&rdquo; he suggested.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sometimes I can see it,&rdquo; was the response. &ldquo;Sometimes they wear orders.
+      It&rsquo;s funny&mdash;if they have on a ribbon when you first notice them, they
+      follow you, and presto&mdash;the ribbon is gone! I always laugh over that.
+      I&rsquo;ve watched them in the glass of the shop windows. They try to look
+      unconcerned, but as they walk along they snap out the ribbon with their
+      thumb&mdash;as one shells little peas, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She paused; then, as no one joined in her laugh, she continued, &ldquo;Well, at
+      last the police got after me, That&rsquo;s a story that I&rsquo;ve never been able to
+      understand. Those filthy men gave me a nasty disease, and then I was to be
+      shut in prison for it! That was a little too much, it seems to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said the doctor, grimly, &ldquo;you revenged yourself on them&mdash;from
+      what you have told me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other laughed. &ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; she said. &ldquo;I had my innings.&rdquo; She turned to
+      Monsieur Loches. &ldquo;You want me to tell you that? Well, just on the very day
+      I learned that the police were after me, I was coming home furious,
+      naturally. It was on the Boulevard St. Denis, if you know the place&mdash;and
+      whom do you think I met? My old master&mdash;the one who got me into
+      trouble, you know. There it was, God&rsquo;s own will! I said to myself, &lsquo;Now,
+      my good fellow, here&rsquo;s the time where you pay me what you owe me, and with
+      interest, too!&rsquo; I put on a little smile&mdash;oh, it didn&rsquo;t take very
+      long, you may be sure!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman paused; her face darkened, and she went on, in a voice trembling
+      with agitation: &ldquo;When I had left him, I was seized with a rage. A sort of
+      madness got into my blood. I took on all the men who offered themselves,
+      for whatever they offered me, for nothing, if they didn&rsquo;t offer me
+      anything. I took as many as I could, the youngest ones and the handsomest
+      ones. Just so! I only gave them back what they had given to me. And since
+      that time I haven&rsquo;t really cared about anyone any more. I just turned it
+      all into a joke.&rdquo; She paused, and then looking at the deputy, and reading
+      in his face the horror with which he was regarding her, &ldquo;Oh, I am not the
+      only one!&rdquo; she exclaimed. &ldquo;There are lots of other women who do the same.
+      To be sure, it is not for vengeance&mdash;it is because they must have
+      something to eat. For even if you have syphilis, you have to eat, don&rsquo;t
+      you? Eh?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had turned to the doctor, but he did not answer. There was a long
+      silence; and then thinking that his friend, the deputy, had heard enough
+      for one session, the doctor rose. He dismissed the woman, the cause of all
+      George Dupont&rsquo;s misfortunes, and turning to Monsieur Loches, said: &ldquo;It was
+      on purpose that I brought that wretched prostitute before you. In her the
+      whole story is summed up&mdash;not merely the story of your son-in-law,
+      but that of all the victims of the red plague. That woman herself is a
+      victim, and she is a symbol of the evil which we have created and which
+      falls upon our own heads again. I could add nothing to her story, I only
+      ask you, Monsieur Loches&mdash;when next you are proposing new laws in the
+      Chamber of Deputies, not to forget the horrors which that poor woman has
+      exposed to you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
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+</html>
diff --git a/old/1157.txt b/old/1157.txt
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+++ b/old/1157.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,4341 @@
+Project Gutenberg's Damaged Goods, by Upton Sinclair and Eugene Brieux
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Damaged Goods
+       A novelization of the play "Les Avaries"
+
+Author: Upton Sinclair
+        Eugene Brieux
+
+Posting Date: August 16, 2008 [EBook #1157]
+Release Date: January, 1998
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAMAGED GOODS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by John P. Roberts, III
+
+
+
+
+
+DAMAGED GOODS
+
+The Great Play "Les Avaries" of Eugene Brieux
+
+Novelized with the approval of the author
+
+by Upton Sinclair
+
+
+
+THE PRODUCTION OF EUGENE BRIEUX'S PLAY, "LES AVARIES," OR, TO GIVE IT
+ITS ENGLISH TITLE, "DAMAGED GOODS," HAS INITIATED A MOVEMENT IN THIS
+COUNTRY WHICH MUST BE REGARDED AS EPOCH-MAKING.--New York Times
+
+
+
++++Page 4 is a virtually unreadable letter in handwritten script from M.
+Brieux.+++
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+My endeavor has been to tell a simple story, preserving as closely as
+possible the spirit and feeling of the original. I have tried, as it
+were, to take the play to pieces, and build a novel out of the same
+material. I have not felt at liberty to embellish M. Brieux's ideas, and
+I have used his dialogue word for word wherever possible. Unless I have
+mis-read the author, his sole purpose in writing LES AVARIES was to
+place a number of most important facts before the minds of the public,
+and to drive them home by means of intense emotion. If I have been able
+to assist him, this bit of literary carpentering will be worth while. I
+have to thank M. Brieux for his kind permission to make the attempt, and
+for the cordial spirit which he has manifested.
+
+Upton Sinclair
+
+
+
+
+PRESS COMMENTS ON THE PLAY
+
+DAMAGED GOODS was first presented in America at a Friday matinee on
+March 14th, 1913, in the Fulton Theater, New York, before members of
+the Sociological Fund. Immediately it was acclaimed by public press and
+pulpit as the greatest contribution ever made by the Stage to the cause
+of humanity. Mr. Richard Bennett, the producer, who had the courage to
+present the play, with the aid of his co-workers, in the face of most
+savage criticism from the ignorant, was overwhelmed with requests for a
+repetition of the performance.
+
+Before deciding whether of not to present DAMAGED GOODS before the
+general public, it was arranged that the highest officials in the United
+States should pass judgment upon the manner in which the play teaches
+its vital lesson. A special guest performance for members of the
+Cabinet, members of both houses of Congress, members of the United
+States Supreme Court, representatives of the Diplomatic corps and others
+prominent in national life was given in Washington, D.C.
+
+Although the performance was given on a Sunday afternoon (April 6,
+1913), the National Theater was crowded to the very doors with the most
+distinguished audience ever assembled in America, including exclusively
+the foremost men and women of the Capital. The most noted clergymen of
+Washington were among the spectators.
+
+The result of this remarkable performance was a tremendous endorsement
+of the play and of the manner in which Mr. Bennett and his co-workers
+were presenting it.
+
+This reception resulted in the continuance of the New York performances
+until mid-summer and is responsible for the decision on the part of Mr.
+Bennett to offer the play in every city in America where citizens feel
+that the ultimate welfare of the community is dependent upon a higher
+standard of morality and clearer understanding of the laws of health.
+
+
+The WASHINGTON POST, commenting on the Washington performance, said:
+
+The play was presented with all the impressiveness of a sermon; with all
+the vigor and dynamic force of a great drama; with all the earnestness
+and power of a vital truth.
+
+In many respects the presentation of this dramatization of a great
+social evil assumed the aspects of a religious service. Dr. Donald C.
+Macleod, pastor of the First Presbyterian Church, mounted the rostrum
+usually occupied by the leader of the orchestra, and announced that the
+nature of the performance, the sacredness of the play, and the character
+of the audience gave to the play the significance of a tremendous sermon
+in behalf of mankind, and that as such it was eminently fitting that
+a divine blessing be invoked. Dr. Earle Wilfley, pastor of the Vermont
+Avenue Christian Church, asked all persons in the audience to bow
+their heads in a prayer for the proper reception of the message to be
+presented from the stage. Dr. MacLeod then read the Bernard Shaw preface
+to the play, and asked that there be no applause during the performance,
+a suggestion which was rigidly followed, thus adding greatly to the
+effectiveness and the seriousness of the dramatic portrayal.
+
+The impression made upon the audience by the remarkable play is
+reflected in such comments as the following expressions voiced after the
+performance:
+
+RABBI SIMON, OF THE WASHINGTON HEBREW CONGREGATION--If I could preach
+from my pulpit a sermon one tenth as powerful, as convincing, as
+far-reaching, and as helpful as this performance of DAMAGED GOODS must
+be, I would consider that I had achieved the triumph of my life.
+
+COMMISSIONER CUNO H. RUDOLPH--I was deeply impressed by what I saw, and
+I think that the drama should be repeated in every city, a matinee one
+day for father and son and the next day for mother and daughter.
+
+REV. EARLE WILFLEY--I am confirmed in the opinion that we must take up
+our cudgels in a crusade against the modern problems brought to the
+fore by DAMAGED GOODS. The report that these diseases are increasing is
+enough to make us get busy on a campaign against them.
+
+SURGEON GENERAL BLUE--It was a most striking and telling lesson. For
+years we have been fighting these condition in the navy. It is high time
+that civilians awakened to the dangers surrounding them and crusaded
+against them in a proper manner.
+
+MRS. ARCHIBALD HOPKINS--The play was a powerful presentation of a very
+important question and was handled in a most admirable manner. The
+drama is a fine entering wedge for this crusade and is bound to do
+considerable good in conveying information of a very serious nature.
+
+MINISTER PEZET, OF PERU--There can be no doubt but that the performance
+will have great uplifting power, and accomplish the good for which it
+was created. Fortunately, we do not have the prudery in South America
+that you of the north possess, and have open minds to consider these
+serious questions.
+
+JUSTICE DANIEL THEW WRIGHT--I feel quite sure that DAMAGED GOODS will
+have considerable effect in educating the people of the nature of the
+danger that surrounds them.
+
+SENATOR KERN, OF INDIANA--There can be no denial of the fact that it is
+time to look at the serious problems presented in the play with an open
+mind.
+
+
+Brieux has been hailed by Bernard Shaw as "incomparably the greatest
+writer France has produced since Moliere," and perhaps no writer ever
+wielded his pen more earnestly in the service of the race. To quote from
+an article by Edwin E. Slosson in the INDEPENDENT:
+
+Brieux is not one who believes that social evils are to be cured by laws
+and yet more laws. He believes that most of the trouble is caused
+by ignorance and urges education, public enlightenment and franker
+recognition of existing conditions. All this may be needed, but still we
+may well doubt its effectiveness as a remedy. The drunken Helot argument
+is not a strong one, and those who lead a vicious life know more about
+its risks than any teacher or preacher could tell them. Brieux also
+urges the requirement of health certificates for marriage, such as many
+clergymen now insist upon and which doubtless will be made compulsory
+before long in many of our States.
+
+Brieux paints in black colors yet is no fanatic; in fact, he will
+be criticised by many as being too tolerant of human weakness. The
+conditions of society and the moral standards of France are so different
+from those of America that his point of view and his proposals for
+reform will not meet with general acceptance, but it is encouraging to
+find a dramatist who realizes the importance of being earnest and who
+uses his art in defense of virtue instead of its destruction.
+
+
+Other comments follow, showing the great interest manifested in the play
+and the belief in the highest seriousness of its purpose:
+
+There is no uncleanness in facts. The uncleanness is in the glamour, in
+the secret imagination. It is in hints, half-truths, and suggestions the
+threat to life lies.
+
+This play puts the horrible truth in so living a way, with such clean,
+artistic force, that the mind is impressed as it could possibly be
+impressed in no other manner.
+
+Best of all, it is the physician who dominates the action. There is no
+sentimentalizing. There is no weak and morbid handling of the theme.
+The doctor appears in his ideal function, as the modern high-priest of
+truth. Around him writhe the victims of ignorance and the criminals
+of conventional cruelty. Kind, stern, high-minded, clear-headed, yet
+human-hearted, he towers over all, as the master.
+
+This is as it should be. The man to say the word to save the world of
+ignorant wretches, cursed by the clouds and darkness a mistaken modesty
+has thrown around a life-and-death instinct, is the physician.
+
+The only question is this: Is this play decent? My answer is that it is
+the decentest play that has been in New York for a year. It is so decent
+that it is religious.--HEARST'S MAGAZINE.
+
+
+The play is, above all, a powerful plea for the tearing away of the veil
+of mystery that has so universally shrouded this subject of the penalty
+of sexual immorality. It is a plea for light on this hidden danger, that
+fathers and mothers, young men and young women, may know the terrible
+price that must be paid, not only by the generation that violates the
+law, but by the generations to come. It is a serious question just how
+the education of men and women, especially young men and young women, in
+the vital matters of sex relationship should be carried on. One thing is
+sure, however. The worst possible way is the one which has so often been
+followed in the past--not to carry it on at all but to ignore it.--THE
+OUTLOOK.
+
+
+It (DAMAGED GOODS) is, of course, a masterpiece of "thesis drama,"--an
+argument, dogmatic, insistent, inescapable, cumulative, between science
+and common sense, on one side, and love, of various types, on the other.
+It is what Mr. Bernard Shaw has called a "drama of discussion"; it
+has the splendid movement of the best Shaw plays, unrelieved--and
+undiluted--by Shavian paradox, wit, and irony. We imagine that many
+audiences at the Fulton Theater were astonished at the play's showing
+of sheer strength as acted drama. Possibly it might not interest the
+general public; probably it would be inadvisable to present it to them.
+But no thinking person, with the most casual interest in current social
+evils, could listen to the version of Richard Bennett, Wilton Lackaye,
+and their associates, without being gripped by the power of Brieux's
+message.--THE DIAL.
+
+
+It is a wonder that the world has been so long in getting hold of this
+play, which is one of France's most valuable contributions to the drama.
+Its history is interesting. Brieux wrote it over ten years ago. Antoine
+produced it at his theater and Paris immediately censored it, but soon
+thought better of it and removed the ban. During the summer of 1910
+it was played in Brussels before crowded houses, for then the city was
+thronged with visitors to the exposition. Finally New York got it last
+spring and eugenic enthusiasts and doctors everywhere have welcomed it.
+--THE INDEPENDENT.
+
+
+A letter to Mr. Bennett from Dr. Hills, Pastor of Plymouth Church,
+Brooklyn.
+
+23 Monroe Street Bklyn. August 1, 1913.
+
+Mr. Richard Bennett, New York City, N.Y. My Dear Mr. Bennett:
+
+During the past twenty-one years since I entered public life, I have
+experienced many exciting hours under the influence of reformer, orator
+and actor, but, in this mood of retrospection, I do not know that I
+have ever passed through a more thrilling, terrible, and yet hopeful
+experience than last evening, while I listened to your interpretation of
+Eugene Brieux' "DAMAGED GOODS."
+
+I have been following your work with ever deepening interest. It is not
+too much to say that you have changed the thinking of the people of our
+country as to the social evil. At last, thank God, this conspiracy of
+silence is ended. No young man who sees "Damaged Goods" will ever be the
+same again. If I wanted to build around an innocent boy buttresses of
+fire and granite, and lend him triple armour against temptation and the
+assaults of evil, I would put him for one evening under your influence.
+That which the teacher, the preacher and the parent have failed to
+accomplish it has been given to you to achieve. You have done a work for
+which your generation owes you an immeasurable debt of gratitude.
+
+I shall be delighted to have you use my Study of Social Diseases and
+Heredity in connection with your great reform.
+
+With all good wishes, I am, my dear Mr. Bennett, Faithfully yours,
+
+Newell Dwight Hillis
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+It was four o'clock in the morning when George Dupont closed the door
+and came down the steps to the street. The first faint streaks of dawn
+were in the sky, and he noticed this with annoyance, because he knew
+that his hair was in disarray and his whole aspect disorderly; yet he
+dared not take a cab, because he feared to attract attention at home.
+When he reached the sidewalk, he glanced about him to make sure that no
+one had seen him leave the house, then started down the street, his eyes
+upon the sidewalk before him.
+
+George had the feeling of the morning after. There are few men in this
+world of abundant sin who will not know what the phrase means. The fumes
+of the night had evaporated; he was quite sober now, quite free from
+excitement. He saw what he had done, and it seemed to him something
+black and disgusting.
+
+Never had a walk seemed longer than the few blocks which he had to
+traverse to reach his home. He must get there before the maid was
+up, before the baker's boy called with the rolls; otherwise, what
+explanation could he give?--he who had always been such a moral man, who
+had been pointed out by mothers as an example to their sons.
+
+George thought of his own mother, and what she would think if she could
+know about his night's adventure. He thought again and again, with a
+pang of anguish, of Henriette. Could it be possible that a man who was
+engaged, whose marriage contract had actually been signed, who was soon
+to possess the love of a beautiful and noble girl--that such a man could
+have been weak enough and base enough to let himself be trapped into
+such a low action?
+
+He went back over the whole series of events, shuddering at them, trying
+to realize how they had happened, trying to excuse himself for them.
+He had not intended such a culmination; he had never meant to do such a
+thing in his life. He had not thought of any harm when he had accepted
+the invitation to the supper party with his old companions from the law
+school. Of course, he had known that several of these chums led "fast"
+lives--but, then, surely a fellow could go to a friend's rooms for a
+lark without harm!
+
+He remembered the girl who had sat by his side at the table. She had
+come with a friend who was a married woman, and so he had assumed that
+she was all right. George remembered how embarrassed he had been when
+first he had noticed her glances at him. But then the wine had begun
+to go to his head--he was one of those unfortunate wretches who cannot
+drink wine at all. He had offered to take the girl home in a cab, and on
+the way he had lost his head.
+
+Oh! What a wretched thing it was. He could hardly believe that it was he
+who had spoken those frenzied words; and yet he must have spoken them,
+because he remembered them. He remembered that it had taken a long
+time to persuade her. He had had to promise her a ring like the one her
+married friend wore. Before they entered her home she had made him take
+off his shoes, so that the porter might not hear them. This had struck
+George particularly, because, even flushed with excitement as he was,
+he had not forgotten the warnings his father had given him as to the
+dangers of contact with strange women. He had thought to himself, "This
+girl must be safe. It is probably the first time she has ever done such
+a thing."
+
+But now George could get but little consolation out of that idea. He
+was suffering intensely--the emotion described by the poet in the bitter
+words about "Time's moving finger having writ." His mind, seeking some
+explanation, some justification, went back to the events before that
+night. With a sudden pang of yearning, he thought of Lizette. She was a
+decent girl, and had kept him decent, and he was lonely without her. He
+had been so afraid of being found out that he had given her up when he
+became engaged; but now for a while he felt that he would have to break
+his resolution, and pay his regular Sunday visit to the little flat in
+the working-class portion of Paris.
+
+It was while George was fitting himself for the same career as his
+father--that of notary--that he had made the acquaintance of the young
+working girl. It may not be easy to believe, but Lizette had really been
+a decent girl. She had a family to take care of, and was in need. There
+was a grandmother in poor health, a father not much better, and three
+little brothers; so Lizette did not very long resist George Dupont, and
+he felt quite virtuous in giving her sufficient money to take care of
+these unfortunate people. Among people of his class it was considered
+proper to take such things if one paid for them.
+
+All the family of this working girl were grateful to him. They adored
+him, and they called him Uncle Raoul (for of course he had not been so
+foolish as to give them his true name).
+
+Since George was paying for Lizette, he felt he had the right to control
+her life. He gave her fair warning concerning his attitude. If she
+deceived him he would leave her immediately. He told this to her
+relatives also, and so he had them all watching her. She was never
+trusted out alone. Every Sunday George went to spend the day with his
+little "family," so that his coming became almost a matter of tradition.
+He interested her in church affairs--mass and vespers were her regular
+occasions for excursions. George rented two seats, and the grandmother
+went with her to the services. The simple people were proud to see their
+name engraved upon the brass plate of the pew.
+
+The reason for all these precautions was George's terror of disease.
+He had been warned by his father as to the dangers which young men
+encounter in their amours. And these lessons had sunk deep into George's
+heart; he had made up his mind that whatever his friends might do, he,
+for one, would protect himself.
+
+That did not mean, of course, that he intended to live a virtuous life;
+such was the custom among young men of his class, not had it probably
+ever occurred to his father that it was possible for a young man to do
+such a thing. The French have a phrase, "l'homme moyen sensuel"--the
+average sensual man. And George was such a man. He had no noble
+idealisms, no particular reverence for women. The basis of his attitude
+was a purely selfish one; he wanted to enjoy himself, and at the same
+time to keep out of trouble.
+
+He did not find any happiness in the renunciation which he imposed
+upon himself; he had no religious ideas about it. On the contrary,
+he suffered keenly, and was bitter because he had no share in the
+amusements of his friends. He stuck to his work and forced himself to
+keep regular hours, preparing for his law examinations. But all the
+time he was longing for adventures. And, of course, this could not go
+on forever, for the motive of fear alone is not sufficient to subdue the
+sexual urge in a full-blooded young man.
+
+The affair with Lizette might have continued much longer had it not been
+for the fact that his father died. He died quite suddenly, while George
+was away on a trip. The son came back to console his broken-hearted
+mother, and in the two week they spent in the country together the
+mother broached a plan to him. The last wish of the dying man had
+been that his son should be fixed in life. In the midst of his intense
+suffering he had been able to think about the matter, and had named the
+girl whom he wished George to marry. Naturally, George waited with some
+interest to learn who this might be. He was surprised when his mother
+told him that it was his cousin, Henriette Loches.
+
+He could not keep his emotion from revealing itself in his face. "It
+doesn't please you?" asked his mother, with a tone disappointment.
+
+"Why no, mother," he answered. "It's not that. It just surprises me."
+
+"But why?" asked the mother. "Henriette is a lovely girl and a good
+girl."
+
+"Yes, I know," said George; "but then she is my cousin, and--" He
+blushed a little with embarrassment. "I had never thought of her in that
+way."
+
+Madame Dupont laid her hand upon her son's. "Yes, George," she said
+tenderly. "I know. You are such a good boy."
+
+Now, of course, George did not feel that he was quite such a good boy;
+but his mother was a deeply religious woman, who had no idea of the
+truth about the majority of men. She would never have got over the shock
+if he had told her about himself, and so he had to pretend to be just
+what she thought him.
+
+"Tell me," she continued, after a pause, "have you never felt the least
+bit in love?"
+
+"Why no--I don't think so," George stammered, becoming conscious of a
+sudden rise of temperature in his cheeks.
+
+"Because," said his mother, "it is really time that you were settled in
+life. Your father said that we should have seen to it before, and now it
+is my duty to see to it. It is not good for you to live alone so long."
+
+"But, mother, I have YOU," said George generously.
+
+"Some day the Lord may take me away," was the reply. "I am getting
+old. And, George, dear--" Here suddenly her voice began to tremble with
+feeling--"I would like to see my baby grandchildren before I go. You
+cannot imagine what it would mean to me."
+
+Madame Dupont saw how much this subject distressed her son, so she went
+on to the more worldly aspects of the matter. Henriette's father was
+well-to-do, and he would give her a good dowry. She was a charming and
+accomplished girl. Everybody would consider him most fortunate if the
+match could be arranged. Also, there was an elderly aunt to whom Madame
+Dupont had spoken, and who was much taken with the idea. She owned a
+great deal of property and would surely help the young couple.
+
+George did not see just how he could object to this proposition, even if
+he had wanted to. What reason could he give for such a course? He could
+not explain that he already had a family--with stepchildren, so to
+speak, who adored him. And what could he say to his mother's obsession,
+to which she came back again and again--her longing to see her
+grandchildren before she died? Madame Dupont waited only long enough for
+George to stammer out a few protestations, and then in the next breath
+to take them back; after which she proceeded to go ahead with the match.
+The family lawyers conferred together, and the terms of the settlement
+were worked out and agreed upon. It happened that immediately afterwards
+George learned of an opportunity to purchase the practice of a notary,
+who was ready to retire from business in two months' time. Henriette's
+father consented to advance a portion of her dowry for this purpose.
+
+Thus George was safely started upon the same career as his father, and
+this was to him a source of satisfaction which he did not attempt to
+deny, either to himself of to any one else. George was a cautious young
+man, who came of a frugal and saving stock. He had always been taught
+that it was his primary duty to make certain of a reasonable amount of
+comfort. From his earliest days, he had been taught to regard material
+success as the greatest goal in life, and he would never have dreamed
+of engaging himself to a girl without money. But when he had the good
+fortune to meet one who possessed desirable personal qualities in
+addition to money, he was not in the least barred from appreciating
+those qualities. They were, so to speak, the sauce which went with the
+meat, and it seemed to him that in this case the sauce was of the very
+best.
+
+George--a big fellow of twenty-six, with large, round eyes and a
+good-natured countenance--was full blooded, well fed, with a hearty
+laugh which spoke of unimpaired contentment, a soul untroubled in its
+deeps. He seemed to himself the luckiest fellow in the whole round
+world; he could not think what he had done to deserve the good fortune
+of possessing such a girl as Henriette. He was ordinarily of a somewhat
+sentimental turn--easily influenced by women and sensitive to their
+charms. Moreover, his relationship with Lizette had softened him. He had
+learned to love the young working girl, and now Henriette, it seemed,
+was to reap the benefit of his experience with her.
+
+In fact, he found himself always with memories of Lizette in his
+relationships with the girl who was to be his wife. When the engagement
+was announced, and he claimed his first kiss from his bride-to-be, as
+he placed a ring upon her finger, he remembered the first time he had
+kissed Lizette, and a double blush suffused his round countenance. When
+he walked arm and arm with Henriette in the garden he remembered how he
+had walked just so with the other girl, and he was interested to compare
+the words of the two. He remembered what a good time had had when he
+had taken Lizette and her little family for a picnic upon one of the
+excursion steamers which run down the River Seine. Immediately he
+decided that he would like to take Henriette on such a picnic, and he
+persuaded an aunt of Henriette's to go with her as a chaperon. George
+took his bride-to-be to the same little inn where he had lunch before.
+
+Thus he was always haunted by memories, some of which made him cheerful
+and some of which made him mildly sad. He soon got used to the idea, and
+did not find it awkward, except when he had to suppress the impulse to
+tell Henriette something which Lizette had said, or some funny incident
+which had happened in the home of the little family. Sometimes he found
+himself thinking that it was a shame to have to suppress these impulses.
+There must be something wrong, he thought, with a social system which
+made it necessary for him to hide a thing which was so obvious and so
+sensible. Here he was, a man twenty-six years of age; he could not
+have afforded to marry earlier, nor could he, as he thought, have been
+expected to lead a continent life. And he had really loved Lizette; she
+was really a good girl. Yet, if Henriette had got any idea of it, she
+would have been horrified and indignant--she might even have broken off
+the engagement.
+
+And then, too, there was Henriette's father, a personage of great
+dignity and importance. M. Loches was a deputy of the French Parliament,
+from a district in the provinces. He was a man of upright life, and a
+man who made a great deal of that upright life--keeping it on a pedestal
+where everyone might observe it. It was impossible to imagine M. Loches
+in an undignified or compromising situation--such as the younger man
+found himself facing in the matter of Lizette.
+
+The more he thought about it the more nervous and anxious George became.
+Then it was decided it would be necessary for him to break with
+the girl, and be "good" until the time of his marriage. Dear little
+soft-eyed Lizette--he did not dare to face her personally; he could
+never bear to say good-by, he felt. Instead, he went to the father,
+who as a man could be expected to understand the situation. George was
+embarrassed and not a little nervous about it; for although he had never
+misrepresented his attitude to the family, one could never feel entirely
+free from the possibility of blackmail in such cases. However, Lizette's
+father behaved decently, and was duly grateful for the moderate sum of
+money which George handed him in parting. He promised to break the news
+gently to Lizette, and George went away with his mind made up that he
+would never see her again.
+
+This resolution he kept, and he considered himself very virtuous in
+doing it. But the truth was that he had grown used to intimacy with a
+woman, and was restless without it. And that, he told himself, was why
+he yielded to the shameful temptation the night of that fatal supper
+party.
+
+He paid for the misadventure liberally in remorse. He felt that he had
+been a wretch, that he had disgraced himself forever, that he had proved
+himself unworthy of the pure girl he was to marry. So keen was his
+feeling that it was several days before he could bring himself to see
+Henriette again; and when he went, it was with a mind filled with a
+brand-new set of resolutions. It was the last time that he would ever
+fall into error. He would be a new man from then on. He thanked God
+that there was no chance of his sin being known, that he might have an
+opportunity to prove his new determination.
+
+So intense were his feelings that he could not help betraying a part of
+them to Henriette. They sat in the garden one soft summer evening, with
+Henriette's mother occupied with her crocheting at a decorous distance.
+George, in reverent and humble mood, began to drop vague hints that he
+was really unworthy of his bride-to-be. He said that he had not always
+been as good as he should have been; he said that her purity and
+sweetness had awakened in him new ideals; so that he felt his old life
+had been full of blunders. Henriette, of course, had but the vaguest of
+ideas as to what the blunders of a tender and generous young man like
+George might be. So she only loved him the more for his humility, and
+was flattered to have such a fine effect upon him, to awaken in him such
+moods of exaltation. When he told her that all men were bad, and that
+no man was worthy of such a beautiful love, she was quite ravished, and
+wiped away tears from her eyes.
+
+It would have been a shame to spoil such a heavenly mood by telling the
+real truth. Instead, George contented himself with telling of the new
+resolutions he had formed. After all, they were the things which really
+mattered; for Henriette was going to live with his future, not with his
+past.
+
+It seemed to George a most wonderful thing, this innocence of a young
+girl, which enabled her to move through a world of wickedness with
+unpolluted mind. It was a touching thing; and also, as a prudent young
+man could not help realizing, a most convenient thing. He realized the
+importance of preserving it, and thought that if he ever had a daughter,
+he would protect her as rigidly as Henriette had been protected. He
+made haste to shy off from the subject of his "badness" and to turn the
+conversation with what seemed a clever jest.
+
+"If I am going to be so good," he said, "don't forget that you will have
+to be good also!"
+
+"I will try," said Henriette, who was still serious.
+
+"You will have to try hard," he persisted. "You will find that you have
+a very jealous husband."
+
+"Will I?" said Henriette, beaming with happiness--for when a woman is
+very much in love she doesn't in the least object to the man's being
+jealous.
+
+"Yes, indeed," smiled George. "I'll always be watching you."
+
+"Watching me?" echoed the girl with a surprised look.
+
+And immediately he felt ashamed of himself for his jest. There could be
+no need to watch Henriette, and it was bad taste even to joke about it
+at such a time. That was one of the ideas which he had brought with him
+from his world of evil.
+
+The truth was, however, that George would always be a suspicious
+husband; nothing could ever change that fact, for there was something in
+his own conscience which he could not get out, and which would make it
+impossible for him to be at ease as a married man. It was the memory of
+something which had happened earlier in his life before he met Lizette.
+There had been one earlier experience, with the wife of his dearest
+friend. She had been much younger than her husband, and had betrayed an
+interest in George, who had yielded to the temptation. For several years
+the intrigue continued, and George considered it a good solution of a
+young man's problem. There had been no danger of contamination, for he
+knew that his friend was a man of pure and rigid morals, a jealous
+man who watched his wife, and did not permit her to contract those new
+relations which are always dangerous. As for George, he helped in this
+worthy work, keeping the woman in terror of some disease. He told her
+that almost all men were infected, for he hoped by this means to keep
+her from deceiving him.
+
+I am aware that this may seem a dreadful story. As I do not want anyone
+to think too ill of George Dupont, I ought, perhaps, to point out that
+people feel differently about these matters in France. In judging the
+unfortunate young man, we must judge him by the customs of his own
+country, and not by ours. In France, they are accustomed to what is
+called the MARIAGE DE CONVENANCE. The young girl is not permitted to go
+about and make her own friends and decide which one of them she prefers
+for her husband; on the contrary, she is strictly guarded, her training
+often is of a religious nature, and her marriage is a matter of
+business, to be considered and decided by her parents and those of the
+young man. Now, whatever we may think right, it is humanly certain that
+where marriages are made in that way, the need of men and women for
+sympathy and for passionate interest will often lead to the forming of
+irregular relationships after marriage. It is not possible to present
+statistics as to the number of such irregular relationships in Parisian
+society; but in the books which he read and in the plays which he saw,
+George found everything to encourage him to think that it was a romantic
+and delightful thing to keep up a secret intrigue with the wife of his
+best friend.
+
+It should also, perhaps, be pointed out that we are here telling the
+truth, and the whole truth, about George Dupont; and that it is not
+customary to tell this about men, either in real life or in novels.
+There is a great deal of concealment in the world about matters of sex;
+and in such matters the truth-telling man is apt to suffer in reputation
+in comparison with the truth-concealing one.
+
+Nor had George really been altogether callous about the thing. It had
+happened that his best friend had died in his arms; and this had so
+affected the guilty pair that they had felt their relationship was no
+longer possible. She had withdrawn to nurse her grief alone, and
+George had been so deeply affected that he had avoided affairs and
+entanglements with women until his meeting with Lizette.
+
+All this was now in the far distant past, but it had made a deeper
+impression upon George than he perhaps realized, and it was now working
+in his mind and marring his happiness. Here was a girl who loved him
+with a noble and unselfish and whole-hearted love--and yet he would
+never be able to trust her as she deserved, but would always have
+suspicions lurking in the back of his mind. He would be unable to have
+his friends intimate in his home, because of the memory of what he had
+once done to a friend. It was a subtle kind of punishment. But so it
+is that Nature often finds ways of punishing us, without our even being
+aware of it.
+
+That was all for the future, however. At present, George was happy. He
+put his black sin behind him, feeling that he had obtained absolution
+by his confession to Henriette. Day by day, as he realized his good
+fortune, his round face beamed with more and yet more joy.
+
+He went for a little trip to Henriette's home in the country. It was
+a simple village, and they took walks in the country, and stopped to
+refresh themselves at a farmhouse occupied by one of M. Loches' tenants.
+Here was a rosy and buxom peasant woman, with a nursing child in her
+arms. She was destined a couple of years later to be the foster-mother
+of Henriette's little girl and to play an important part in her life.
+But the pair had no idea of that at present. They simply saw a proud
+and happy mother, and Henriette played with the baby, giving vent to
+childish delight. Then suddenly she looked up and saw that George was
+watching her, and as she read his thoughts a beautiful blush suffused
+her cheeks.
+
+As for George, he turned away and went out under the blue sky in a kind
+of ecstasy. Life seemed very wonderful to him just then; he had found
+its supreme happiness, which was love. He was really getting quite mad
+about Henriette, he told himself. He could hardly believe that the day
+was coming when he would be able to clasp her in his arms.
+
+But in the blue sky of George's happiness there was one little cloud of
+storm. As often happens with storm-clouds, it was so small that at first
+he paid no attention to it at all.
+
+He noted upon his body one day a tiny ulcer. At first he treated it with
+salve purchased from an apothecary. Then after a week or two, when this
+had no effect, he began to feel uncomfortable. He remembered suddenly he
+had heard about the symptoms of an unmentionable, dreadful disease, and
+a vague terror took possession of him.
+
+For days he tried to put it to one side. The idea was nonsense, it was
+absurd in connection with a woman so respectable! But the thought would
+not be put away, and finally he went to a school friend, who was a man
+of the world, and got him to talk on the subject. Of course, George had
+to be careful, so that his friend should not suspect that he had any
+special purpose in mind.
+
+The friend was willing to talk. It was a vile disease, he said; but one
+was foolish to bother about it, because it was so rare. There were other
+diseases which fellows got, which nearly every fellow had, and to which
+none of them paid any attention. But one seldom met anyone who had the
+red plague that George dreaded.
+
+"And yet," he added, "according to the books, it isn't so uncommon.
+I suppose the truth is that people hide it. A chap naturally wouldn't
+tell, when he knew it would damn him for life."
+
+George had a sick sensation inside of him. "Is it as bad as that?" he
+asked.
+
+"Of course," said the other, "Should you want to have anything to do
+with a person who had it? Should you be willing to room with him or
+travel with him? You wouldn't even want to shake hands with him!"
+
+"No, I suppose not," said George, feebly.
+
+"I remember," continued the other, "an old fellow who used to live out
+in the country near me. He was not so very old, either, but he looked
+it. He had to be pushed around in a wheel-chair. People said he had
+locomotor ataxia, but that really meant syphilis. We boys used to poke
+all kinds of fun at him because one windy day his hat and his wig were
+blown off together, and we discovered that he was as bald as an egg.
+We used to make jokes about his automobile, as we called it. It had a
+little handle in front, instead of a steering-wheel, and a man behind to
+push, instead of an engine."
+
+"How horrible!" remarked George with genuine feeling.
+
+"I remember the poor devil had a paralysis soon after," continued the
+friend, quite carelessly. "He could not steer any more, and also he lost
+his voice. When you met him he would look at you as it he thought he was
+talking, but all he could say was 'Ga-ga-ga'."
+
+George went away from this conversation in a cold sweat. He told himself
+over and over again that he was a fool, but still he could not get the
+hellish idea out of his mind. He found himself brooding over it all day
+and lying awake at night, haunted by images of himself in a wheel-chair,
+and without any hair on his head. He realized that the sensible thing
+would be for him to go to a doctor and make certain about his condition;
+but he could not bring himself to face the ordeal--he was ashamed to
+admit to a doctor that he had laid himself open to such a taint.
+
+He began to lose the radiant expression from his round and rosy face. He
+had less appetite, and his moods of depression became so frequent that
+he could not hide then even from Henriette. She asked him once or twice
+if there were not something the matter with him, and he laughed--a
+forced and hurried laugh--and told her that he had sat up too late the
+night before, worrying over the matter of his examinations. Oh, what a
+cruel thing it was that a man who stood in the very gateway of such
+a garden of delight should be tormented and made miserable by this
+loathsome idea!
+
+The disturbing symptom still continued, and so at last George purchased
+a medical book, dealing with the subject of the disease. Then, indeed,
+he opened up a chamber of horrors; he made up his mind an abiding place
+of ghastly images. In the book there were pictures of things so awful
+that he turned white, and trembled like a leaf, and had to close the
+volume and hide it in the bottom of his trunk. But he could not banish
+the pictures from his mind. Worst of all, he could not forget the
+description of the first symptom of the disease, which seemed to
+correspond exactly with his own. So at last he made up his mind he must
+ascertain definitely the truth about his condition.
+
+He began to think over plans for seeing a doctor. He had heard somewhere
+a story about a young fellow who had fallen into the hands of a quack,
+and been ruined forever. So he decided that he would consult only the
+best authority.
+
+He got the names of the best-known works on the subject from a
+bookstore, and found that the author of one of these books was
+practicing in Paris as a specialist. Two or three days elapsed before he
+was able to get up the courage to call on this doctor. And oh, the shame
+and horror of sitting in his waiting-room with the other people, none of
+whom dared to look each other in the eyes! They must all be afflicted,
+George thought, and he glanced at them furtively, looking for the
+various symptoms of which he had read. Or were there, perhaps, some like
+himself--merely victims of a foolish error, coming to have the hag of
+dread pulled from off their backs?
+
+And then suddenly, while he was speculating, there stood the doctor,
+signaling to him. His turn had come!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+The doctor was a man about forty years of age, robust, with every
+appearance of a strong character. In the buttonhole of the frock coat
+he wore was a red rosette, the decoration of some order. Confused and
+nervous as George was, he got a vague impression of the physician's
+richly furnished office, with its bronzes, marbles and tapestries.
+
+The doctor signaled to the young man to be seated in the chair before
+his desk. George complied, and then, as he wiped away the perspiration
+from his forehead, stammered out a few words, explaining his errand. Of
+course, he said, it could not be true, but it was a man's duty not
+to take any chances in such a matter. "I have not been a man of loose
+life," he added; "I have not taken so many chances as other men."
+
+The doctor cut him short with the brief remark that one chance was all
+that was necessary. Instead of discussing such questions, he would make
+an examination. "We do not say positively in these cases until we have
+made a blood test. That is the one way to avoid the possibility of
+mistake."
+
+A drop of blood was squeezed out of George's finger on to a little glass
+plate. The doctor retired to an adjoining room, and the victim sat
+alone in the office, deriving no enjoyment from the works of art which
+surrounded him, but feeling like a prisoner who sits in the dock with
+his life at stake while the jury deliberates.
+
+The doctor returned, calm and impassive, and seated himself in his
+office-chair.
+
+"Well, doctor?" asked George. He was trembling with terror.
+
+"Well," was the reply, "there is no doubt whatever."
+
+George wiped his forehead. He could not credit the words. "No doubt
+whatever? In what sense?"
+
+"In the bad sense," said the other.
+
+He began to write a prescription, without seeming to notice how George
+turned page with terror. "Come," he said, after a silence, "you must
+have known the truth pretty well."
+
+"No, no, sir!" exclaimed George.
+
+"Well," said the other, "you have syphilis."
+
+George was utterly stunned. "My God!" he exclaimed.
+
+The doctor, having finished his prescription, looked up and observed his
+condition. "Don't trouble yourself, sir. Out of every seven men you meet
+upon the street, in society, or at the theater, there is at least one
+who has been in your condition. One out of seven--fifteen per cent!"
+
+George was staring before him. He spoke low, as if to himself. "I know
+what I am going to do."
+
+"And I know also," said the doctor, with a smile. "There is your
+prescription. You are going to take it to the drugstore and have it put
+up."
+
+George took the prescription, mechanically, but whispered, "No, sir."
+
+"Yes, sir, you are going to do as everybody else does."
+
+"No, because my situation is not that of everybody else. I know what I
+am going to do."
+
+Said the doctor: "Five times out of ten, in the chair where you are
+sitting, people talk like that, perfectly sincerely. Each one believes
+himself more unhappy than all the others; but after thinking it over,
+and listening to me, they understand that this disease is a companion
+with whom one can live. Just as in every household, one gets along at
+the cost of mutual concessions, that's all. Come, sir, I tell you again,
+there is nothing about it that is not perfectly ordinary, perfectly
+natural, perfectly common; it is an accident which can happen to any
+one. It is a great mistake that people speak if this as the 'French
+Disease,' for there is none which is more universal. Under the picture
+of this disease, addressing myself to those who follow the oldest
+profession in the world, I would write the famous phrase: 'Here is your
+master. It is, it was, or it must be.'"
+
+George was putting the prescription into the outside pocket of his
+coat, stupidly, as if he did not know what he was doing. "But, sir," he
+exclaimed, "I should have been spared!"
+
+"Why?" inquired the other. "Because you are a man of position, because
+you are rich? Look around you, sir. See these works of art in my
+room. Do you imagine that such things have been presented to me by
+chimney-sweeps?"
+
+"But, Doctor," cried George, with a moan, "I have never been a
+libertine. There was never any one, you understand me, never any one
+could have been more careful in his pleasures. If I were to tell you
+that in all my life I have only had two mistresses, what would you
+answer to that?"
+
+"I would answer, that a single one would have been sufficient to bring
+you to me."
+
+"No, sir!" cried George. "It could not have been either of those women."
+He went on to tell the doctor about his first mistress, and then about
+Lizette. Finally he told about Henriette, how much he adored her. He
+could really use such a word--he loved her most tenderly. She was so
+good--and he had thought himself so lucky!
+
+As he went on, he could hardly keep from going to pieces. "I had
+everything," he exclaimed, "everything a man needed! All who knew me
+envied me. And then I had to let those fellows drag me off to that
+miserable supper-party! And now here I am! My future is ruined, my whole
+existence poisoned! What is to become of me? Everybody will avoid me--I
+shall be a pariah, a leper!"
+
+He paused, and then in sudden wild grief exclaimed, "Come, now! Would
+it not be better that I should take myself out of the way? At least, I
+should not suffer any more. You see that there could not be any one
+more unhappy than myself--not any one, I tell you, sir, not any one!"
+Completely overcome, he began to weep in his handkerchief.
+
+The doctor got up, and went to him. "You must be a man," he said, "and
+not cry like a child."
+
+"But sir," cried the young man, with tears running down his cheeks,
+"if I had led a wild life, if I had passed my time in dissipation with
+chorus girls, then I could understand it. Then I would say that I had
+deserved it."
+
+The doctor exclaimed with emphasis, "No, no! You would not say it.
+However, it is of no matter--go on."
+
+"I tell you that I would say it. I am honest, and I would say that I
+had deserved it. But no, I have worked, I have been a regular grind. And
+now, when I think of the shame that is in store for me, the disgusting
+things, the frightful catastrophes to which I am condemned--"
+
+"What is all this you are telling me?" asked the doctor, laughing.
+
+"Oh, I know, I know!" cried the other, and repeated what his friend
+had told him about the man in a wheel-chair. "And they used to call me
+handsome Raoul! That was my name--handsome Raoul!"
+
+"Now, my dear sir," said the doctor, cheerfully, "wipe your eyes one
+last time, blow your nose, put your handkerchief into your pocket, and
+hear me dry-eyed."
+
+George obeyed mechanically. "But I give you fair warning," he said, "you
+are wasting your time."
+
+"I tell you--" began the other.
+
+"I know exactly what you are going to tell me!" cried George.
+
+"Well, in that case, there is nothing more for you to do here--run
+along."
+
+"Since I am here," said the patient submissively, "I will hear you."
+
+"Very well, then. I tell you that if you have the will and the
+perseverance, none of the things you fear will happen to you."
+
+"Of course, it is your duty to tell me that."
+
+"I will tell you that there are one hundred thousand like you in
+Paris, alert, and seemingly well. Come, take what you were just
+saying--wheel-chairs. One doesn't see so many of them."
+
+"No, that's true," said George.
+
+"And besides," added the doctor, "a good many people who ride in them
+are not there for the cause you think. There is no more reason why
+you should be the victim of a catastrophe than any of the one hundred
+thousand. The disease is serious, nothing more."
+
+"You admit that it is a serious disease?" argued George.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"One of the most serious?"
+
+"Yes, but you have the good fortune--"
+
+"The GOOD fortune?"
+
+"Relatively, if you please. You have the good fortune to be infected
+with one of the diseases over which we have the most certain control."
+
+"Yes, yes," exclaimed George, "but the remedies are worse than the
+disease."
+
+"You deceive yourself," replied the other.
+
+"You are trying to make me believe that I can be cured?"
+
+"You can be."
+
+"And that I am not condemned?"
+
+"I swear it to you."
+
+"You are not deceiving yourself, you are not deceiving me? Why, I was
+told--"
+
+The doctor laughed, contemptuously. "You were told, you were told! I'll
+wager that you know the laws of the Chinese concerning party-walls."
+
+"Yes, naturally," said George. "But I don't see what they have to do
+with it."
+
+"Instead of teaching you such things," was the reply, "it would have
+been a great deal better to have taught you about the nature and cause
+of diseases of this sort. Then you would have known how to avoid the
+contagion. Such knowledge should be spread abroad, for it is the
+most important knowledge in the world. It should be found in every
+newspaper."
+
+This remark gave George something of a shock, for his father had owned
+a little paper in the provinces, and he had a sudden vision of the way
+subscribers would have fallen off, if he had printed even so much as the
+name of this vile disease.
+
+"And yet," pursued the doctor, "you publish romances about adultery!"
+
+"Yes," said George, "that's what the readers want."
+
+"They don't want the truth about venereal diseases," exclaimed the
+other. "If they knew the full truth, they would no longer think that
+adultery was romantic and interesting."
+
+He went on to give his advice as to the means of avoiding such diseases.
+There was really but one rule. It was: To love but one woman, to take
+her as a virgin, and to love her so much that she would never deceive
+you. "Take that from me," added the doctor, "and teach it to your son,
+when you have one."
+
+George's attention was caught by this last sentence.
+
+"You mean that I shall be able to have children?" he cried.
+
+"Certainly," was the reply.
+
+"Healthy children?"
+
+"I repeat it to you; if you take care of yourself properly for a long
+time, conscientiously, you have little to fear."
+
+"That's certain?"
+
+"Ninety-nine times out of a hundred."
+
+George felt as if he had suddenly emerged from a dungeon. "Why, then,"
+he exclaimed, "I shall be able to marry!"
+
+"You will be able to marry," was the reply.
+
+"You are not deceiving me? You would not give me that hope, you would
+not expose me? How soon will I be able to marry?"
+
+"In three or four years," said the doctor.
+
+"What!" cried George in consternation. "In three or four years? Not
+before?"
+
+"Not before."
+
+"How is that? Am I going to be sick all that time? Why, you told me just
+now--"
+
+Said the doctor: "The disease will no longer be dangerous to you,
+yourself--but you will be dangerous to others."
+
+"But," the young man cried, in despair, "I am to be married a month from
+now."
+
+"That is impossible."
+
+"But I cannot do any differently. The contract is ready! The banns have
+been published! I have given my word!"
+
+"Well, you are a great one!" the doctor laughed. "Just now you were
+looking for your revolver! Now you want to be married within the month."
+
+"But, Doctor, it is necessary!"
+
+"But I forbid it."
+
+"As soon as I knew that the disease is not what I imagined, and that I
+could be cured, naturally I didn't want to commit suicide. And as soon
+as I make up my mind not to commit suicide, I have to take up my regular
+life. I have to keep my engagements; I have to get married."
+
+"No," said the doctor.
+
+"Yes, yes!" persisted George, with blind obstinacy. "Why, Doctor, if I
+didn't marry it would be a disaster. You are talking about something
+you don't understand. I, for my part--it is not that I am anxious to be
+married. As I told you, I had almost a second family. Lizette's little
+brothers adored me. But it is my aunt, an old maid; and, also, my mother
+is crazy about the idea. If I were to back out now, she would die of
+chagrin. My aunt would disinherit me, and she is the one who has the
+family fortune. Then, too, there is my father-in-law, a regular dragoon
+for his principles--severe, violent. He never makes a joke of serious
+things, and I tell you it would cost me dear, terribly dear. And,
+besides, I have given my word."
+
+"You must take back your word."
+
+"You still insist?" exclaimed George, in despair. "But then, suppose
+that it were possible, how could I take back my signature which I put at
+the bottom of the deed? I have pledged myself to pay in two months for
+the attorney's practice I have purchased!"
+
+"Sir," said the doctor, "all these things--"
+
+"You are going to tell me that I was lacking in prudence, that I should
+never have disposed of my wife's dowry until after the honeymoon!"
+
+"Sir," said the doctor, again, "all these considerations are foreign to
+me. I am a physician, and nothing but a physician, and I can only
+tell you this: If you marry before three or four years, you will be a
+criminal."
+
+George broke out with a wild exclamation. "No sir, you are not merely a
+physician! You are also a confessor! You are not merely a scientist; and
+it is not enough for you that you observe me as you would some lifeless
+thing in your laboratory, and say, 'You have this; science says that;
+now go along with you.' All my existence depends upon you. It is
+your duty to listen to me, because when you know everything you will
+understand me, and you will find some way to cure me within a month."
+
+"But," protested the doctor, "I wear myself out telling you that such
+means do not exist. I shall not be certain of your cure, as much as any
+one can be certain, in less than three or four years."
+
+George was almost beside himself. "I tell you you must find some means!
+Listen to me, sir--if I don't get married I don't get the dowry! And
+will you tell me how I can pay the notes I have signed?"
+
+"Oh," said the doctor, dryly, "if that is the question, it is very
+simple--I will give you a plan to get out of the affair. You will go
+and get acquainted with some rich man; you will do everything you can to
+gain his confidence; and when you have succeeded, you will plunder him."
+
+George shook his head. "I am not in any mood for joking."
+
+"I am not joking," replied his adviser. "Rob that man, assassinate him
+even--that would be no worse crime than you would commit in taking a
+young girl in good health in order to get a portion of her dowry,
+when at the same time you would have to expose her to the frightful
+consequences of the disease which you would give her."
+
+"Frightful consequences?" echoed George.
+
+"Consequences of which death would not be the most frightful."
+
+"But, sir, you were saying to me just now--"
+
+"Just now I did not tell you everything. Even reduced, suppressed a
+little by our remedies, the disease remains mysterious, menacing, and
+in its sum, sufficiently grave. So it would be an infamy to expose your
+fiancee in order to avoid an inconvenience, however great that might
+be."
+
+But George was still not to be convinced. Was it certain that this
+misfortune would befall Henriette, even with the best attention?
+
+Said the other: "I do not wish to lie to you. No, it is not absolutely
+certain, it is probable. And there is another truth which I wish to
+tell you now: our remedies are not infallible. In a certain number of
+cases--a very small number, scarcely five per cent--they have remained
+without effect. You might be one of those exceptions, your wife might be
+one. What then?"
+
+"I will employ a word you used just now, yourself. We should have to
+expect the worst catastrophes."
+
+George sat in a state of complete despair.
+
+"Tell me what to do, then," he said.
+
+"I can tell you only one thing: don't marry. You have a most serious
+blemish. It is as if you owed a debt. Perhaps no one will ever come to
+claim it; on the other hand, perhaps a pitiless creditor will come all
+at once, presenting a brutal demand for immediate payment. Come now--you
+are a business man. Marriage is a contract; to marry without saying
+anything--that means to enter into a bargain by means of passive
+dissimulation. That's the term, is it not? It is dishonesty, and it
+ought to come under the law."
+
+George, being a lawyer, could appreciate the argument, and could think
+of nothing to say to it.
+
+"What shall I do?" he asked.
+
+The other answered, "Go to your father-in-law and tell him frankly the
+truth."
+
+"But," cried the young man, wildly, "there will be no question then of
+three or four years' delay. He will refuse his consent altogether."
+
+"If that is the case," said the doctor, "don't tell him anything."
+
+"But I have to give him a reason, or I don't know what he will do. He
+is the sort of man to give himself to the worst violence, and again my
+fiancee would be lost to me. Listen, doctor. From everything I have said
+to you, you may perhaps think I am a mercenary man. It is true that I
+want to get along in the world, that is only natural. But Henriette has
+such qualities; she is so much better than I, that I love her, really,
+as people love in novels. My greatest grief--it is not to give up the
+practice I have bought--although, indeed, it would be a bitter blow to
+me; my greatest grief would be to lose Henriette. If you could only see
+her, if you only knew her--then you would understand. I have her picture
+here--"
+
+The young fellow took out his card-case. And offered a photograph to the
+doctor, who gently refused it. The other blushed with embarrassment.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he said, "I am ridiculous. That happens to me,
+sometimes. Only, put yourself in my place--I love her so!" His voice
+broke.
+
+"My dear boy," said the doctor, feelingly, "that is exactly why you
+ought not to marry her."
+
+"But," he cried, "if I back out without saying anything they will guess
+the truth, and I shall be dishonored."
+
+"One is not dishonored because one is ill."
+
+"But with such a disease! People are so stupid. I myself, yesterday--I
+should have laughed at anyone who had got into such a plight; I should
+have avoided him, I should have despised him!" And suddenly George
+broke down again. "Oh!" he cried, "if I were the only one to suffer; but
+she--she is in love with me. I swear it to you! She is so good; and she
+will be so unhappy!"
+
+The doctor answered, "She would be unhappier later on."
+
+"It will be a scandal!" George exclaimed.
+
+"You will avoid one far greater," the other replied.
+
+Suddenly George set his lips with resolution. He rose from his seat. He
+took several twenty-franc pieces from his pocket and laid them quietly
+upon the doctor's desk--paying the fee in cash, so that he would not
+have to give his name and address. He took up his gloves, his cane and
+his hat, and rose.
+
+"I will think it over," he said. "I thank you, Doctor. I will come back
+next week as you have told me. That is--probably I will."
+
+He was about to leave.
+
+The doctor rose, and he spoke in a voice of furious anger. "No," he
+said, "I shan't see you next week, and you won't even think it over. You
+came here knowing what you had; you came to ask advice of me, with the
+intention of paying no heed to it, unless it conformed to your wishes.
+A superficial honesty has driven you to take that chance in order to
+satisfy your conscience. You wanted to have somebody upon whom you could
+put off, bye and bye, the consequences of an act whose culpability you
+understand! No, don't protest! Many of those who come here think and act
+as you think, and as you wish to act; but the marriage made against
+my will has generally been the source of such calamities that now I am
+always afraid of not having been persuasive enough, and it even seems to
+me that I am a little to blame for these misfortunes. I should have been
+able to prevent them; they would not have happened if those who are the
+authors of them knew what I know and had seen what I have seen. Swear to
+me, sir, that you are going to break off that marriage!"
+
+George was greatly embarrassed, and unwilling to reply. "I cannot swear
+to you at all, Doctor; I can only tell you again that I will think it
+over."
+
+"That WHAT over?"
+
+"What you have told me."
+
+"What I have told you is true! You cannot bring any new objections; and
+I have answered those which you have presented to me; therefore, your
+mind ought to be made up."
+
+Groping for a reply, George hesitated. He could not deny that he had
+made inquiry about these matters before he had come to the doctor. But
+he said that he was not al all certain that he had this disease. The
+doctor declared it, and perhaps it was true, but the most learned
+physicians were sometimes deceived.
+
+He remembered something he had read in one of the medical books. "Dr.
+Ricord maintains that after a certain period the disease is no longer
+contagious. He has proven his contentions by examples. Today you produce
+new examples to show that he is wrong! Now, I want to do what's right,
+but surely I have the right to think it over. And when I think it
+over, I realize that all the evils with which you threaten me are only
+probable evils. In spite of your desire to terrify me, you have been
+forced to admit that possibly my marriage would not have any troublesome
+consequence for my wife."
+
+The doctor found difficulty in restraining himself. But he said, "Go on.
+I will answer you afterwards."
+
+And George blundered ahead in his desperation. "Your remedies are
+powerful, you tell me; and for the calamities of which you speak to
+befall me, I would have to be among the rare exceptions--also my
+wife would have to be among the number of those rare exceptions. If a
+mathematician were to apply the law of chance to these facts, the result
+of his operation would show but slight chance of a catastrophe, as
+compared with the absolute certainty of a series of misfortunes,
+sufferings, troubles, tears, and perhaps tragic accidents which
+the breaking of my engagement would cause. So I say that the
+mathematician--who is, even more than you, a man of science, a man of
+a more infallible science--the mathematician would conclude that wisdom
+was not with you doctors, but with me."
+
+"You believe it, sir!" exclaimed the other. "But you deceive yourself."
+And he continued, driving home his point with a finger which seemed to
+George to pierce his very soul. "Twenty cases identical with your own
+have been patiently observed, from the beginning to the end. Nineteen
+times the woman was infected by her husband; you hear me, sir, nineteen
+times out of twenty! You believe that the disease is without danger, and
+you take to yourself the right to expose your wife to what you call the
+chance of your being one of those exceptions, for whom our remedies
+are without effect. Very well; it is necessary that you should know the
+disease which your wife, without being consulted, will run a chance of
+contracting. Take that book, sir; it is the work of my teacher. Read it
+yourself. Here, I have marked the passage."
+
+He held out the open book; but George could not lift a hand to take it.
+
+"You do not wish to read it?" the other continued. "Listen to me."
+And in a voice trembling with passion, he read: "'I have watched the
+spectacle of an unfortunate young woman, turned into a veritable monster
+by means of a syphilitic infection. Her face, or rather let me say
+what was left of her face, was nothing but a flat surface seamed with
+scars.'"
+
+George covered his face, exclaiming, "Enough, sir! Have mercy!"
+
+But the other cried, "No, no! I will go to the very end. I have a
+duty to perform, and I will not be stopped by the sensibility of your
+nerves."
+
+He went on reading: "'Of the upper lip not a trace was left; the ridge
+of the upper gums appeared perfectly bare.'" But then at the young man's
+protests, his resolution failed him. "Come," he said, "I will stop. I am
+sorry for you--you who accept for another person, for the woman you say
+you love, the chance of a disease which you cannot even endure to hear
+described. Now, from whom did that woman get syphilis? It is not I who
+am speaking, it is the book. 'From a miserable scoundrel who was not
+afraid to enter into matrimony when he had a secondary eruption.' All
+that was established later on--'and who, moreover, had thought it best
+not to let his wife be treated for fear of awakening her suspicions!'"
+
+The doctor closed the book with a bang. "What that man has done, sir, is
+what you want to do."
+
+George was edging toward the door; he could no longer look the doctor in
+the eye. "I should deserve all those epithets and still more brutal ones
+if I should marry, knowing that my marriage would cause such horrors.
+But that I do not believe. You and your teachers--you are specialists,
+and consequently you are driven to attribute everything to the disease
+you make the subject of your studies. A tragic case, an exceptional
+case, holds a kind of fascination for you; you think it can never be
+talked about enough."
+
+"I have heard that argument before," said the doctor, with an effort at
+patience.
+
+"Let me go on, I beg you," pleaded George. "You have told me that out of
+every seven men there is one syphilitic. You have told me that there are
+one hundred thousand in Paris, coming and going, alert, and apparently
+well."
+
+"It is true," said the doctor, "that there are one hundred thousand
+who are actually at this moment not visibly under the influence of the
+disease. But many thousands have passed into our hospitals, victims of
+the most frightful ravages that our poor bodies can support. These--you
+do not see them, and they do not count for you. But again, if it
+concerned no one but yourself, you might be able to argue thus. What I
+declare to you, what I affirm with all the violence of my conviction,
+is that you have not the right to expose a human creature to such
+chances--rare, as I know, but terrible, as I know still better. What
+have you to answer to that?"
+
+"Nothing," stammered George, brought to his knees at last. "You are
+right about that. I don't know what to think."
+
+"And in forbidding you marriage," continued the doctor, "is it the same
+as if I forbade it forever? Is it the same as if I told you that you
+could never be cured? On the contrary, I hold out to you every hope; but
+I demand of you a delay of three or four years, because it will take me
+that time to find out if you are among the number of those unfortunate
+ones whom I pity with all my heart, for whom the disease is without
+mercy; because during that time you will be dangerous to your wife and
+to your children. The children I have not yet mentioned to you."
+
+Here the doctor's voice trembled slightly. He spoke with moving
+eloquence. "Come, sir, you are an honest man; you are too young for such
+things not to move you; you are not insensible to duty. It is impossible
+that I shan't be able to find a way to your heart, that I shan't be
+able to make you obey me. My emotion in speaking to you proves that I
+appreciate your suffering, that I suffer with you. It is in the name of
+my sincerity that I implore you. You have admitted it--that you have not
+the right to expose your wife to such miseries. But it is not only your
+wife that you strike; you may attack in her your own children. I exclude
+you for a moment from my thought--you and her. It is in the name of
+these innocents that I implore you; it is the future, it is the race
+that I defend. Listen to me, listen to me! Out of the twenty households
+of which I spoke, only fifteen had children; these fifteen had
+twenty-eight. Do you know how many out of these twenty-eight survived?
+Three, sir! Three out of twenty-eight! Syphilis is above everything a
+murderer of children. Herod reigns in France, and over all the earth,
+and begins each year his massacre of the innocents; and if it be not
+blasphemy against the sacredness of life, I say that the most happy are
+those who have disappeared. Visit our children's hospitals! We know too
+well the child of syphilitic parents; the type is classical; the doctors
+can pick it out anywhere. Those little old creatures who have the
+appearance of having already lived, and who have kept the stigmata of
+all out infirmities, of all our decay. They are the victims of fathers
+who have married, being ignorant of what you know--things which I should
+like to go and cry out in the public places."
+
+The doctor paused, and then in a solemn voice continued: "I have told
+you all, without exaggeration. Think it over. Consider the pros and
+cons; sum up the possible misfortunes and the certain miseries. But
+disregard yourself, and consider that there are in one side of the
+scales the misfortunes of others, and in the other your own. Take care
+that you are just."
+
+George was at last overcome. "Very well," he said, "I give way. I
+won't get married. I will invent some excuse; I will get a delay of six
+months. More than that, I cannot do."
+
+The doctor exclaimed, "I need three years--I need four years!"
+
+"No, Doctor!" persisted George. "You can cure me in less time than
+that."
+
+The other answered, "No! No! No!"
+
+George caught him by the hand, imploringly. "Yes! Science in all
+powerful!"
+
+"Science is not God," was the reply. "There are no longer any miracles."
+
+"If only you wanted to do it!" cried the young man, hysterically. "You
+are a learned man; seek, invent, find something! Try some new plan with
+me; give me double the dose, ten times the does; make me suffer. I give
+myself up to you; I will endure everything--I swear it! There ought to
+be some way to cure me within six months. Listen to me! I tell you I
+can't answer for myself with that delay. Come; it is in the name of my
+wife, in the name of my children, that I implore you. Do something for
+them!"
+
+The doctor had reached the limit of his patience. "Enough, sir!" he
+cried. "Enough!"
+
+But nothing could stop the wretched man. "On my knees!" he cried. "I
+put myself on my knees before you! Oh! If only you would do it! I would
+bless you; I would adore you, as one adores a god! All my gratitude, all
+my life--half my fortune! For mercy's sake, Doctor, do something; invent
+something; make some discovery--have pity!"
+
+The doctor answered gravely, "Do you wish me to do more for you than for
+the others?"
+
+George answered, unblushingly, 'answered, unblushingly, "Yes!" He was
+beside himself with terror and distress.
+
+The other's reply was delivered in a solemn tone. "Understand, sir,
+for every one of out patients we do all that we can, whether it be the
+greatest personage, or the last comer to out hospital clinic. We have no
+secrets in reserve for those who are more fortunate, or less fortunate
+than the others, and who are in a hurry to be cured."
+
+George gazed at him for a moment in bewilderment and despair, and then
+suddenly bowed his head. "Good-by, Doctor," he answered.
+
+"Au revoir, sir," the other corrected--with what proved to be prophetic
+understanding. For George was destined to see him again--even though he
+had made up his mind to the contrary!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+George Dupont had the most important decision of his life to make; but
+there was never very much doubt what his decision would be. One the one
+hand was the definite certainty that if he took the doctor's advice, he
+would wreck his business prospects, and perhaps also lose the woman he
+loved. On the other hand were vague and uncertain possibilities which it
+was difficult for him to make real to himself. It was all very well to
+wait a while to be cured of the dread disease; but to wait three or four
+years--that was simply preposterous!
+
+He decided to consult another physician. He would find one this time who
+would not be so particular, who would be willing to take some trouble
+to cure him quickly. He began to notice the advertisements which
+were scattered over the pages of the newspapers he read. There were
+apparently plenty of doctors in Paris who could cure him, who were
+willing to guarantee to cure him. After much hesitation, he picked out
+one whose advertisement sounded the most convincing.
+
+The office was located in a cheap quarter. It was a dingy place, not
+encumbered with works of art, but with a few books covered with dust.
+The doctor himself was stout and greasy, and he rubbed his hands with
+anticipation at the sight of so prosperous-looking a patient. But he was
+evidently a man of experience, for he knew exactly what was the matter
+with George, almost without the formality of an examination. Yes,
+he could cure him, quickly, he said. There had recently been great
+discoveries made--new methods which had not reached the bulk of the
+profession. He laughed at the idea of three or four years. That was
+the way with those specialists! When one got forty francs for a
+consultation, naturally, one was glad to drag out the case. There were
+tricks in the medical trade, as in all others. A doctor had to live;
+when he had a big name, he had to live expensively.
+
+The new physician wrote out two prescriptions, and patted George on the
+shoulder as he went away. There was no need for him to worry; he would
+surely be well in three months. If he would put off his marriage for six
+months, he would be doing everything within reason. And meantime, there
+was no need for him to worry himself--things would come out all right.
+So George went away, feeling as if a mountain had been lifted from his
+shoulders.
+
+He went to see Henriette that same evening, to get the matter
+settled. "Henriette," he said, "I have to tell you something very
+important--something rather painful. I hope you won't let it disturb you
+too much."
+
+She was gazing at him in alarm. "What is it?"
+
+"Why," he said, blushing in spite of himself, and regretting that he had
+begun the matter so precipitately, "for some time I've not been feeling
+quite well. I've been having a slight cough. Have you noticed it?"
+
+"Why no!" exclaimed Henriette, anxiously.
+
+"Well, today I went to see a doctor, and he says that there is a
+possibility--you understand it is nothing very serious--but it might
+be--I might possibly have lung trouble."
+
+"George!" cried the girl in horror.
+
+He put his hand upon hers. "Don't be frightened," he said. "It will be
+all right, only I have to take care of myself." How very dear of her, he
+thought--to be so much worried!
+
+"George, you ought to go away to the country!" she cried. "You have
+been working too hard. I always told you that if you shut yourself up so
+much--"
+
+"I am going to take care of myself," he said. "I realize that it is
+necessary. I shall be all right--the doctor assured me there was no
+doubt of it, so you are not to distress yourself. But meantime, here is
+the trouble: I don't think it would be right for me to marry until I am
+perfectly well."
+
+Henriette gave an exclamation of dismay.
+
+"I am sure we should put it off," he went on, "it would be only fair to
+you."
+
+"But, George!" she protested. "Surely it can't be that serious!"
+
+"We ought to wait," he said. "You ought not to take the chance of being
+married to a consumptive."
+
+The other protested in consternation. He did not look like a
+consumptive; she did not believe that he WAS a consumptive. She was
+willing to take her chances. She loved him, and she was not afraid. But
+George insisted--he was sure that he ought not to marry for six months.
+
+"Did the doctor advise that?" asked Henriette.
+
+"No," he replied, "but I made up my mind after talking to him that I
+must do the fair and honorable thing. I beg you to forgive me, and to
+believe that I know best."
+
+George stood firmly by this position, and so in the end she had to give
+way. It did not seem quite modest in her to continue persisting.
+
+George volunteered to write a letter to her father; and he hoped this
+would settle the matter without further discussion. But in this he was
+disappointed. There had to be a long correspondence with long arguments
+and protestations from Henriette's father and from his own mother.
+It seemed such a singular whim. Everybody persisted in diagnosing his
+symptoms, in questioning him about what the doctor had said, who the
+doctor was, how he had come to consult him--all of which, of course, was
+very embarrassing to George, who could not see why they had to make such
+a fuss. He took to cultivating a consumptive look, as well as he could
+imagine it; he took to coughing as he went about the house--and it was
+all he could do to keep from laughing, as he saw the look of dismay on
+his poor mother's face. After all, however, he told himself that he
+was not deceiving her, for the disease he had was quite as serious as
+tuberculosis.
+
+It was very painful and very trying. But there was nothing that could be
+done about it; the marriage had been put off for six months, and in the
+meantime he and Henriette had to control their impatience and make the
+best of their situation. Six months was a long time; but what if it had
+been three or four years, as the other doctor had demanded? That would
+have been a veritable sentence of death.
+
+George, as we have seen, was conscientious, and regular and careful in
+his habits. He took the medicine which the new doctor prescribed
+for him; and day by day he watched, and to his great relief saw the
+troublesome symptoms gradually disappearing. He began to take heart,
+and to look forward to life with his former buoyancy. He had had a bad
+scare, but now everything was going to be all right.
+
+Three or four months passed, and the doctor told him he was cured. He
+really was cured, so far as he could see. He was sorry, now, that he
+had asked for so long a delay from Henriette; but the new date for the
+wedding had been announced, and it would be awkward to change it again.
+George told himself that he was being "extra careful," and he was repaid
+for the inconvenience by the feeling of virtue derived from the delay.
+He was relieved that he did not have to cough any more, or to invent
+any more tales of his interviews with the imaginary lung-specialist.
+Sometimes he had guilty feelings because of all the lying he had had to
+do; but he told himself that it was for Henriette's sake. She loved him
+as much as he loved her. She would have suffered needless agonies had
+she known the truth; she would never have got over it--so it would have
+been a crime to tell her.
+
+He really loved her devotedly, thoroughly. From the beginning he had
+thought as much of her mental sufferings as he had of any physical harm
+that the dread disease might do to him. How could he possibly persuade
+himself to give her up, when he knew that the separation would break her
+heart and ruin her whole life? No; obviously, in such a dilemma, it was
+his duty to use his own best judgment, and get himself cured as quickly
+as possible. After that he would be true to her, he would take no more
+chances of a loathsome disease.
+
+The secret he was hiding made him feel humble--made him unusually gentle
+in his attitude towards the girl. He was a perfect lover, and she
+was ravished with happiness. She thought that all his sufferings were
+because of his love for her, and the delay which he had imposed out of
+his excess of conscientiousness. So she loved him more and more, and
+never was there a happier bride than Henriette Loches, when at last the
+great day arrived.
+
+They went to the Riveria for their honeymoon, and then returned to live
+in the home which had belonged to George's father. The investment in
+the notary's practice had proven a good one, and so life held out every
+promise for the young couple. They were divinely happy.
+
+After a while, the bride communicated to her husband the tidings that
+she was expecting a child. Then it seemed to George that the cup of his
+earthly bliss was full. His ailment had slipped far into the background
+of his thoughts, like an evil dream which he had forgotten. He put away
+the medicines in the bottom of his trunk and dismissed the whole matter
+from his mind. Henriette was well--a very picture of health, as every
+one agreed. The doctor had never seen a more promising young mother, he
+declared, and Madame Dupont, the elder, bloomed with fresh life and joy
+as she attended her daughter-in-law.
+
+Henriette went for the summer to her father's place in the provinces,
+which she and George had visited before their marriage. They drove out
+one day to the farm where they had stopped. The farmer's wife had a
+week-old baby, the sight of which made Henriette's heart leap with
+delight. He was such a very healthy baby that George conceived the idea
+that this would be the woman to nurse his own child, in case Henriette
+herself should not be able to do it.
+
+They came back to the city, and there the baby was born. As George paced
+the floor, waiting for the news, the memory of his evil dreams came back
+to him. He remembered all the dreadful monstrosities of which he had
+read--infants that were born of syphilitic parents. His heart stood
+still when the nurse came into the room to tell him the tidings.
+
+But it was all right; of course it was all right! He had been a fool,
+he told himself, as he stood in the darkened room and gazed at the
+wonderful little mite of life which was the fruit of his love. It was a
+perfect child, the doctor said--a little small, to be sure, but that was
+a defect which would soon be remedied. George kneeled by the bedside and
+kissed the hand of his wife, and went out of the room feeling as if he
+had escaped from a tomb.
+
+All went well, and after a couple of weeks Henriette was about the house
+again, laughing all day and singing with joy. But the baby did not gain
+quite as rapidly as the doctor had hoped, and it was decided that the
+country air would be better for her. So George and his mother paid a
+visit to the farm in the country, and arranged that the country woman
+should put her own child to nurse elsewhere and should become the
+foster-mother of little Gervaise.
+
+George paid a good price for the service, far more than would have been
+necessary, for the simple country woman was delighted with the idea of
+taking care of the grandchild of the deputy of her district. George came
+home and told his wife about this and had a merry time as he pictured
+the woman boasting about it to the travelers who stopped at her door.
+"Yes, ma'am, a great piece of luck I've got, ma'am. I've got the
+daughter of the daughter of our deputy--at your service ma'am. My!
+But she is as fat as out little calf--and so clever! She understands
+everything. A great piece of luck for me, ma'am. She's the daughter
+of the daughter of our deputy!" Henriette was vastly entertained,
+discovering in her husband a new talent, that of an actor.
+
+As for George's mother, she was hardly to be persuaded from staying in
+the country with the child. She went twice a week, to make sure that all
+went well. Henriette and she lived with the child's picture before them;
+they spent their time sewing on caps and underwear--all covered with
+laces and frills and pink and blue ribbons. Every day, when George
+came home from his work, he found some new article completed, and was
+ravished by the scent of some new kind of sachet powder. What a lucky
+man he was!
+
+You would think he must have been the happiest man in the whole city
+of Paris. But George, alas, had to pay the penalty for his early sins.
+There was, for instance, the deception he had practiced upon his friend,
+away back in the early days. Now he had friends of his own, and he could
+not keep these friends from visiting him; and so he was unquiet with the
+fear that some one of them might play upon him the same vile trick. Even
+in the midst of his radiant happiness, when he knew that Henriette was
+hanging upon his every word, trembling with delight when she heard his
+latchkey in the door--still he could not drive away the horrible thought
+that perhaps all this might be deception.
+
+There was his friend, Gustave, for example. He had been a friend of
+Henriette's before her marriage; he had even been in love with her at
+one time. And now he came sometimes to the house--once or twice when
+George was away! What did that mean? George wondered. He brooded over
+it all day, but dared not drop any hint to Henriette. But he took to
+setting little traps to catch her; for instance, he would call her up on
+the telephone, disguising his voice. "Hello! Hello! Is that you, Madame
+Dupont?" And when she answered, "It is I, sir," all unsuspecting, he
+would inquire, "Is George there?"
+
+"No, sir," she replied. "Who is this speaking?"
+
+He answered, "It is I, Gustave. How are you this morning?" He wanted to
+see what she would answer. Would she perhaps say, "Very well, Gustave.
+How are you?"--in a tone which would betray too great intimacy!
+
+But Henriette was a sharp young person. The tone did not sound like
+Gustave's. She asked in bewilderment, "What?" and then again, "What?"
+
+So, at last, George, afraid that his trick might be suspected, had to
+burst out laughing, and turn it into a joke. But when he came home and
+teased his wife about it, the laugh was not all on his side. Henriette
+had guessed the real meaning of his joke! She did not really mind--she
+took his jealousy as a sign of love, and was pleased with it. It is
+not until a third party come upon the scene that jealousy begins to be
+annoying.
+
+So she had a merry time teasing George. "You are a great fellow!
+You have no idea how well I understand you--and after only a year of
+marriage!"
+
+"You know me?" said the husband, curiously. (It is always so fascinating
+when anybody thinks she know us better than we know ourselves!) "Tell
+me, what do you think about me?"
+
+"You are restless," said Henriette. "You are suspicious. You pass your
+time putting flies in your milk, and inventing wise schemes to get them
+out."
+
+"Oh, you think that, do you?" said George, pleased to be talked about.
+
+"I am not annoyed," she answered. "You have always been that way--and I
+know that it's because at bottom you are timid and disposed to suffer.
+And then, too, perhaps you have reasons for not having confidence in a
+wife's intimate friends--lady-killer that you are!"
+
+George found this rather embarrassing; but he dared not show it, so he
+laughed gayly. "I don't know what you mean," he said--"upon my word I
+don't. But it is a trick I would not advise everybody to try."
+
+There were other embarrassing moments, caused by George's having things
+to conceal. There was, for instance, the matter of the six months' delay
+in the marriage--about which Henriette would never stop talking. She
+begrudged the time, because she had got the idea that little Gervaise
+was six months younger than she otherwise would have been. "That shows
+your timidity again," she would say. "The idea of your having imagined
+yourself a consumptive!"
+
+Poor George had to defend himself. "I didn't tell you half the truth,
+because I was afraid of upsetting you. It seemed I had the beginning of
+chronic bronchitis. I felt it quite keenly whenever I took a breath, a
+deep breath--look, like this. Yes--I felt--here and there, on each side
+of the chest, a heaviness--a difficulty--"
+
+"The idea of taking six months to cure you of a thing like that!"
+exclaimed Henriette. "And making our baby six months younger than she
+ought to be!"
+
+"But," laughed George, "that means that we shall have her so much the
+longer! She will get married six months later!"
+
+"Oh, dear me," responded the other, "let us not talk about such things!
+I am already worried, thinking she will get married some day."
+
+"For my part," said George, "I see myself mounting with her on my arm
+the staircase of the Madeleine."
+
+"Why the Madeleine?" exclaimed his wife. "Such a very magnificent
+church!"
+
+"I don't know--I see her under her white veil, and myself all dressed
+up, and with an order."
+
+"With an order!" laughed Henriette. "What do you expect to do to win an
+order?"
+
+"I don't know that--but I see myself with it. Explain it as you will, I
+see myself with an order. I see it all, exactly as if I were there--the
+Swiss guard with his white stockings and the halbard, and the little
+milliner's assistants and the scullion lined up staring."
+
+"It is far off--all that," said Henriette. "I don't like to talk of it.
+I prefer her as a baby. I want her to grow up--but then I change my
+mind and think I don't. I know your mother doesn't. Do you know, I don't
+believe she ever thinks about anything but her little Gervaise."
+
+"I believe you," said the father. "The child can certainly boast of
+having a grandmother who loves her."
+
+"Also, I adore your mother," declared Henriette. "She makes me forget my
+misfortune in not having my own mother. She is so good!"
+
+"We are all like that in our family," put in George.
+
+"Really," laughed the wife. "Well, anyhow--the last time that we went
+down in the country with her--you had gone out, I don't know where you
+had gone--"
+
+"To see the sixteenth-century chest," suggested the other.
+
+"Oh, yes," laughed Henriette; "your famous chest!" (You must excuse this
+little family chatter of theirs--they were so much in love with each
+other!)
+
+"Don't let's talk about that," objected George. "You were saying--?"
+
+"You were not there. The nurse was out at mass, I think--"
+
+"Or at the wine merchant's! Go on, go on."
+
+"Well, I was in the little room, and mother dear thought she was all
+alone with Gervaise. I was listening; she was talking to the baby--all
+sorts of nonsense, pretty little words--stupid, if you like, but tender.
+I wanted to laugh, and at the same time I wanted to weep."
+
+"Perhaps she called her 'my dear little Savior'?"
+
+"Exactly! Did you hear her?"
+
+"No--but that is what she used to call me when I was little."
+
+"It was that day she swore that the little one had recognized her, and
+laughed!"
+
+"Oh, yes!"
+
+"And then another time, when I went into her room--mother's room--she
+didn't hear me because the door was open, but I saw her. She was in
+ecstasy before the little boots which the baby wore at baptism--you
+know?"
+
+"Yes, yes."
+
+"Listen, then. She had taken them and she was embracing them!"
+
+"And what did you say then?"
+
+"Nothing; I stole out very softly, and I sent across the threshold a
+great kiss to the dear grandmother!"
+
+Henriette sat for a moment in thought. "It didn't take her very long,"
+she remarked, "today when she got the letter from the nurse. I imagine
+she caught the eight-fifty-nine train!"
+
+"Any yet," laughed George, "it was really nothing at all."
+
+"Oh no," said his wife. "Yet after all, perhaps she was right--and
+perhaps I ought to have gone with her."
+
+"How charming you are, my poor Henriette! You believe everything you are
+told. I, for my part, divined right away the truth. The nurse was simply
+playing a game on us; she wanted a raise. Will you bet? Come, I'll bet
+you something. What would you like to bet? You don't want to? Come, I'll
+bet you a lovely necklace--you know, with a big pearl."
+
+"No," said Henriette, who had suddenly lost her mood of gayety. "I
+should be too much afraid of winning."
+
+"Stop!" laughed her husband. "Don't you believe I love her as much as
+you love her--my little duck? Do you know how old she is? I mean her
+EXACT age?"
+
+Henriette sat knitting her brows, trying to figure.
+
+"Ah!" he exploded. "You see you don't know! She is ninety-one days and
+eight hours! Ha, ha! Imagine when she will be able to walk all alone.
+Then we will take her back with us; we must wait at least six months."
+Then, too late, poor George realized that he had spoken the fatal phrase
+again.
+
+"If only you hadn't put off our marriage, she would be able to walk
+now," said Henriette.
+
+He rose suddenly. "Come," he said, "didn't you say you had to dress and
+pay some calls?"
+
+Henriette laughed, but took the hint.
+
+"Run along, little wife," he said. "I have a lot of work to do in the
+meantime. You won't be down-stairs before I shall have my nose buried in
+my papers. Bye-bye."
+
+"Bye-bye," said Henriette. But they paused to exchange a dozen or so
+kisses before she went away to dress.
+
+Then George lighted a cigarette and stretched himself out in the big
+armchair. He seemed restless; he seemed to be disturbed about something.
+Could it be that he had not been so much at ease as he had pretended to
+be, since the letter had come from the baby's nurse? Madame Dupont had
+gone by the earliest train that morning. She had promised to telegraph
+at once--but she had not done so, and now it was late afternoon.
+
+George got up and wandered about. He looked at himself in the glass for
+a moment; then he went back to the chair and pulled up another to put
+his geet upon. He puffed away at his cigarette until he was calmer. But
+then suddenly he heard the rustle of a dress behind him, and glanced
+about, and started up with an exclamation, "Mother!"
+
+Madame Dupont stood in the doorway. She did not speak. Her veil was
+thrown back and George noted instantly the look of agitation upon her
+countenance.
+
+"What's the matter?" he cried. "We didn't get any telegram from you; we
+were not expecting you till tomorrow."
+
+Still his mother did not speak.
+
+"Henriette was just going out," he exclaimed nervously; "I had better
+call her."
+
+"No!" said his mother quickly. Her voice was low and trembling. "I did
+not want Henriette to be here when I arrived."
+
+"But what's the matter?" cried George.
+
+Again there was a silence before the reply came. He read something
+terrible in the mother's manner, and he found himself trembling
+violently.
+
+"I have brought back the child and the nurse," said Madame Dupont.
+
+"What! Is the little one sick?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What's the matter with her?"
+
+"Nothing dangerous--for the moment, at least."
+
+"We must send and get the doctor!" cried George.
+
+"I have just come from the doctor's," was the reply. "He said it was
+necessary to take our child from the nurse and bring her up on the
+bottle."
+
+Again there was a pause. George could hardly bring himself to ask
+the next question. Try as he would, he could not keep his voice from
+weakening. "Well, now, what is her trouble?"
+
+The mother did not answer. She stood staring before her. At last she
+said, faintly, "I don't know."
+
+"You didn't ask?"
+
+"I asked. But it was not to our own doctor that I went."
+
+"Ah!" whispered George. For nearly a minute neither one of them spoke.
+"Why?" he inquired at last.
+
+"Because--he--the nurse's doctor--had frightened me so--"
+
+"Truly?"
+
+"Yes. It is a disease--" again she stopped.
+
+George cried, in a voice of agony, "and then?"
+
+"Then I asked him if the matter was so grave that I could not be
+satisfied with our ordinary doctor."
+
+"And what did he answer?"
+
+"He said that if we had the means it would really be better to consult a
+specialist."
+
+George looked at his mother again. He was able to do it, because she
+was not looking at him. He clenched his hands and got himself together.
+"And--where did he send you?"
+
+His mother fumbled in her hand bag and drew out a visiting card. "Here,"
+she said.
+
+And George looked at the card. It was all he could do to keep himself
+from tottering. It was the card of the doctor whom he had first
+consulted about his trouble! The specialist in venereal diseases!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+It was all George could do to control his voice. "You--you went to see
+him?" he stammered.
+
+"Yes," said his mother. "You know him?"
+
+"No, no," he answered. "Or--that is--I have met him, I think. I don't
+know." And then to himself, "My God!"
+
+There was a silence. "He is coming to talk to you," said the mother, at
+last.
+
+George was hardly able to speak. "Then he is very much disturbed?"
+
+"No, but he wants to talk to you."
+
+"To me?"
+
+"Yes. When the doctor saw the nurse, he said, 'Madame, it is impossible
+for me to continue to attend this child unless I have had this very day
+a conversation with the father.' So I said 'Very well,' and he said he
+would come at once."
+
+George turned away, and put his hands to his forehead. "My poor little
+daughter!" he whispered to himself.
+
+"Yes," said the mother, her voice breaking, "she is, indeed, a poor
+little daughter!"
+
+A silence fell; for what could words avail in such a situation? Hearing
+the door open, Madame Dupont started, for her nerves were all a-quiver
+with the strain she had been under. A servant came in and spoke to her,
+and she said to George, "It is the doctor. If you need me, I shall be in
+the next room."
+
+Her son stood trembling, as if he were waiting the approach of an
+executioner. The other came into the room without seeing him and he
+stood for a minute, clasping and unclasping his hands, almost overcome
+with emotion. Then he said, "Good-day, doctor." As the man stared at
+him, surprised and puzzled, he added, "You don't recognize me?"
+
+The doctor looked again, more closely. George was expecting him to break
+out in rage; but instead his voice fell low. "You!" he exclaimed. "It is
+you!"
+
+At last, in a voice of discouragement than of anger, he went on, "You
+got married, and you have a child! After all that I told you! You are a
+wretch!"
+
+"Sir," cried George, "let me explain to you!"
+
+"Not a word!" exclaimed the other. "There can be no explanation for what
+you have done."
+
+A silence followed. The young man did not know what to say. Finally,
+stretching out his arms, he pleaded, "You will take care of my little
+daughter all the same, will you not?"
+
+The other turned away with disgust. "Imbecile!" he said.
+
+George did not hear the word. "I was able to wait only six months," he
+murmured.
+
+The doctor answered in a voice of cold self-repression, "That is enough,
+sir! All that does not concern me. I have done wrong even to let you see
+my indignation. I should have left you to judge yourself. I have nothing
+to do here but with the present and with the future--with the infant and
+with the nurse."
+
+"She isn't in danger?" cried George.
+
+"The nurse is in danger of being contaminated."
+
+But George had not been thinking about the nurse. "I mean my child," he
+said.
+
+"Just at present the symptoms are not disturbing."
+
+George waited; after a while he began, "You were saying about the nurse.
+Will you consent that I call my mother? She knows better than I."
+
+"As you wish," was the reply.
+
+The young man started to the door, but came back, in terrible distress.
+"I have one prayer to offer you sir; arrange it so that my wife--so that
+no one will know. If my wife learned that it is I who am the cause--! It
+is for her that I implore you! She--she isn't to blame."
+
+Said the doctor: "I will do everything in my power that she may be kept
+ignorant of the true nature of the disease."
+
+"Oh, how I thank you!" murmured George. "How I thank you!"
+
+"Do not thank me; it is for her, and not for you, that I will consent to
+lie."
+
+"And my mother?"
+
+"Your mother knows the truth."
+
+"But--"
+
+"I pray you, sir--we have enough to talk about, and very serious
+matters."
+
+So George went to the door and called his mother. She entered and
+greeted the doctor, holding herself erect, and striving to keep the
+signs of grief and terror from her face. She signed to the doctor to
+take a seat, and then seated herself by a little table near him.
+
+"Madame Dupont," he began, "I have prescribed a course of treatment for
+the child. I hope to be able to improve its condition, and to prevent
+any new developments. But my duty and yours does not stop there; if
+there is still time, it is necessary to protect the health of the
+nurse."
+
+"Tell us what it is necessary to do, Doctor?" said she.
+
+"The woman must stop nursing the child."
+
+"You mean we have to change the nurse?"
+
+"Madame, the child can no longer be brought up at the breast, either by
+that nurse or by any other nurse."
+
+"But why, sir?"
+
+"Because the child would give her disease to the woman who gave her
+milk."
+
+"But, Doctor, if we put her on the bottle--our little one--she will
+die!"
+
+And suddenly George burst out into sobs. "Oh, my poor little daughter!
+My God, my God!"
+
+Said the doctor, "If the feeding is well attended to, with sterilized
+milk--"
+
+"That can do very well for healthy infants," broke in Madame Dupont.
+"But at the age of three months one cannot take from the breast a baby
+like ours, frail and ill. More than any other such an infant has need of
+a nurse--is that not true?"
+
+"Yes," the doctor admitted, "that is true. But--"
+
+"In that case, between the life of the child, and the health of the
+nurse, you understand perfectly well that my choice is made."
+
+Between her words the doctor heard the sobbing of George, whose head was
+buried in his arms. "Madame," he said, "your love for that baby has just
+caused you to utter something ferocious! It is not for you to choose. It
+is not for you to choose. I forbid the nursing. The health of that woman
+does not belong to you."
+
+"No," cried the grandmother, wildly, "nor does the health of out child
+belong to you! If there is a hope of saving it, that hope is in giving
+it more care than any other child; and you would wish that I put it
+upon a mode of nourishment which the doctors condemn, even for vigorous
+infants! You expect that I will let myself be taken in like that? I
+answer you: she shall have the milk which she needs, my poor little one!
+If there was a single thing that one could do to save her--I should be
+a criminal to neglect it!" And Madame Dupont broke out, with furious
+scorn, "The nurse! The nurse! We shall know how to do our duty--we
+shall take care of her, repay her. But our child before all! No sir,
+no! Everything that can be done to save our baby I shall do, let it cost
+what it will. To do what you say--you don't realize it--it would be as
+if I should kill the child!" In the end the agonized woman burst into
+tears. "Oh, my poor little angel! My little savior!"
+
+George had never ceased sobbing while his mother spoke; at these last
+words his sobs became loud cries. He struck the floor with his foot, he
+tore his hair, as if he were suffering from violent physical pain. "Oh,
+oh, oh!" he cried. "My little child! My little child!" And then, in a
+horrified whisper to himself, "I am a wretch! A criminal!"
+
+"Madame," said the doctor, "you must calm yourself; you must both calm
+yourselves. You will not help out the situation by lamentations. You
+must learn to take it with calmness."
+
+Madame Dupont set her lips together, and with a painful effort recovered
+her self-control. "You are right, sir," she said, in a low voice. "I ask
+your pardon; but if you only knew what that child means to me! I lost
+one at that age. I am an old woman, I am a widow--I had hardly hoped to
+live long enough to be a grandmother. But, as you say--we must be calm."
+She turned to the young man, "Calm yourself, my son. It is a poor way to
+show our love for the child, to abandon ourselves to tears. Let us talk,
+Doctor, and seriously--coldly. But I declare to you that nothing will
+ever induce me to put the child on the bottle, when I know that it might
+kill her. That is all I can say."
+
+The doctor replied: "This isn't the first time that I find myself in
+the present situation. Madame, I declare to you that always--ALWAYS,
+you understand--persons who have rejected my advice have had reason to
+repent it cruelly."
+
+"The only thing of which I should repent--" began the other.
+
+"You simply do not know," interrupted the doctor, "what such a nurse is
+capable of. You cannot imagine what bitterness--legitimate
+bitterness, you understand--joined to the rapacity, the cupidity, the
+mischief-making impulse--might inspire these people to do. For them the
+BOURGEOIS is always somewhat of an enemy; and when they find themselves
+in position to avenge their inferiority, they are ferocious."
+
+"But what could the woman do?"
+
+"What could she do? She could bring legal proceedings against you."
+
+"But she is much too stupid to have that idea."
+
+"Others will put it into her mind."
+
+"She is too poor to pay the preliminary expenses."
+
+"And do you propose then to profit by her ignorance and stupidity?
+Besides, she could obtain judicial assistance."
+
+"Why, surely," exclaimed Madame Dupont, "such a thing was never heard
+of! Do you mean that?"
+
+"I know a dozen prosecutions of that sort; and always when there has
+been certainty, the parents have lost their case."
+
+"But surely, Doctor, you must be mistaken! Not in a case like ours--not
+when it is a question of saving the life of a poor little innocent!"
+
+"Oftentimes exactly such facts have been presented."
+
+Here George broke in. "I can give you the dates of the decisions." He
+rose from his chair, glad of an opportunity to be useful. "I have
+the books," he said, and took one from the case and brought it to the
+doctor.
+
+"All of that is no use--" interposed the mother.
+
+But the doctor said to George, "You will be able to convince yourself.
+The parents have been forced once or twice to pay the nurse a regular
+income, and at other times they have had to pay her an indemnity, of
+which the figure has varied between three and eight thousand francs."
+
+Madame Dupont was ready with a reply to this. "Never fear, sir! If there
+should be a suit, we should have a good lawyer. We shall be able to pay
+and choose the best--and he would demand, without doubt, which of the
+two, the nurse or the child, has given the disease to the other."
+
+The doctor was staring at her in horror. "Do you not perceive that would
+be a monstrous thing to do?"
+
+"Oh, I would not have to say it," was the reply. "The lawyer would see
+to it--is not that his profession? My point is this: by one means or
+another he would make us win our case."
+
+"And the scandal that would result," replied the other. "Have you
+thought of that?"
+
+Here George, who had been looking over his law-books, broke in. "Doctor,
+permit me to give you a little information. In cases of this sort, the
+names are never printed."
+
+"Yes, but they are spoken at the hearings."
+
+"That's true."
+
+"And are you certain that there will not be any newspaper to print the
+judgment?"
+
+"What won't they stoop to," exclaimed Madame Dupont--"those filthy
+journals!"
+
+"Ah," said the other, "and see what a scandal? What a shame it would be
+to you!"
+
+"The doctor is right, mother," exclaimed the young man.
+
+But Madame Dupont was not yet convinced. "We will prevent the woman from
+taking any steps; we will give her what she demands from us."
+
+"But then," said the other, "you will give yourselves up to the risk of
+blackmail. I know a family which has been thus held up for over twelve
+years."
+
+"If you will permit me, Doctor," said George, timidly, "she could be
+made to sign a receipt."
+
+"For payment in full?" asked the doctor, scornfully.
+
+"Even so."
+
+"And then," added his mother, "she would be more than delighted to go
+back to her country with a full purse. She would be able to buy a little
+house and a bit of ground--in that country one doesn't need so much in
+order to live."
+
+At this moment there was a tap upon the door, and the nurse entered. She
+was a country woman, robust, rosy-cheeked, fairly bursting with health.
+When she spoke one got the impression that her voice was more than she
+could contain. It did not belong in a drawing-room, but under the open
+sky of her country home. "Sir," she said, addressing the doctor, "the
+baby is awake."
+
+"I will go and see her," was the reply; and then to Madame Dupont, "We
+will take up this conversation later on."
+
+"Certainly," said the mother. "Will you have need of the nurse?"
+
+"No, Madame," the doctor answered.
+
+"Nurse," said the mother, "sit down and rest. Wait a minute, I wish to
+speak to you." As the doctor went out, she took her son to one side and
+whispered to him, "I know the way to arrange everything. If we let
+her know what is the matter, and if she accepts, the doctor will have
+nothing more to say. Isn't that so?"
+
+"Obviously," replied the son.
+
+"I am going to promise that we will give her two thousand francs when
+she goes away, if she will consent to continue nursing the child."
+
+"Two thousand francs?" said the other. "Is that enough?"
+
+"I will see," was the reply. "If she hesitates, I will go further. Let
+me attend to it."
+
+George nodded his assent, and Madame Dupont returned to the nurse. "You
+know," she said, "that our child is a little sick?"
+
+The other looked at her in surprise. "Why no, ma'am!"
+
+"Yes," said the grandmother.
+
+"But, ma'am, I have taken the best of care of her; I have always kept
+her proper."
+
+"I am not saying anything to the contrary," said Madame Dupont, "but the
+child is sick, the doctors have said it."
+
+The nurse was not to be persuaded; she thought they were getting ready
+to scold her. "Humph," she said, "that's a fine thing--the doctors! If
+they couldn't always find something wrong you'd say they didn't know
+their business."
+
+"But our doctor is a great doctor; and you have seen yourself that our
+child has some little pimples."
+
+"Ah, ma'am," said the nurse, "that's the heat--it's nothing but the heat
+of the blood breaking out. You don't need to bother yourself; I tell you
+it's only the child's blood. It's not my fault; I swear to you that she
+had not lacked anything, and that I have always kept her proper."
+
+"I am not reproaching you--"
+
+"What is there to reproach me for? Oh, what bad luck! She's tiny--the
+little one--she's a bit feeble; but Lord save us, she's a city child!
+And she's getting along all right, I tell you."
+
+"No," persisted Madame Dupont, "I tell you--she has got a cold in her
+head, and she has an eruption at the back of the throat."
+
+"Well," cried the nurse, angrily, "if she has, it's because the doctor
+scratched her with that spoon he put into her mouth wrong end first! A
+cold in the head? Yes, that's true; but if she has caught cold, I can't
+say when, I don't know anything about it--nothing, nothing at all. I
+have always kept her well covered; she's always had as much as three
+covers on her. The truth is, it was when you came, the time before last;
+you were all the time insisting upon opening the windows in the house!"
+
+"But once more I tell you," cried Madame Dupont, "we are not putting any
+blame on you."
+
+"Yes," cried the woman, more vehemently. "I know what that kind of talk
+means. It's no use--when you're a poor country woman."
+
+"What are you imagining now?" demanded the other.
+
+"Oh, that's all right. It's no use when you're a poor country woman."
+
+"I repeat to you once more," cried Madame Dupont, with difficulty
+controlling her impatience, "we have nothing whatever to blame you for."
+
+But the nurse began to weep. "If I had known that anything like this was
+coming to me--"
+
+"We have nothing to blame you for," declared the other. "We only wish to
+warn you that you might possibly catch the disease of the child."
+
+The woman pouted. "A cold in the head!" she exclaimed. "Well, if I catch
+it, it won't be the first time. I know how to blow my nose."
+
+"But you might also get the pimples."
+
+At this the nurse burst into laughter so loud that the bric-a-brac
+rattled. "Oh, oh, oh! Dear lady, let me tell you, we ain't city folks,
+we ain't; we don't have such soft skins. What sort of talk is that?
+Pimples--what difference would that make to poor folks like us? We don't
+have a white complexion like the ladies of Paris. We are out all day in
+the fields, in the sun and the rain, instead of rubbing cold cream
+on our muzzles! No offense, ma'am--but I say if you're looking for an
+excuse to get rid of me, you must get a better one than that."
+
+"Excuse!" exclaimed the other. "What in the world do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, I know!" said the nurse, nodding her head.
+
+"But speak!"
+
+"It's no use, when you're only a poor country woman."
+
+"I don't understand you! I swear to you that I don't understand you!"
+
+"Well," sneered the other, "I understand."
+
+"But then--explain yourself."
+
+"No, I don't want to say it."
+
+"But you must; I wish it."
+
+"Well--"
+
+"Go ahead."
+
+"I'm only a poor country woman, but I am no more stupid than the others,
+for all that. I know perfectly well what your tricks mean. Mr. George
+here has been grumbling because you promised me thirty francs more a
+month, if I came to Paris." And then, turning upon the other, she went
+on--"But, sir, isn't it only natural? Don't I have to put my own child
+away somewheres else? And then, can my husband live on his appetite?
+We're nothing but poor country people, we are."
+
+"You are making a mistake, nurse," broke in George. "It is nothing at
+all of that sort; mother is quite right. I am so far from wanting
+to reproach you, that, on the contrary, I think she had not promised
+enough, and I want to make you, for my part, another promise. When you
+go away, when baby is old enough to be weaned, by way of thanking you,
+we wish to give you--"
+
+Madame Dupont broke in, hurriedly, "We wish to give you,--over and above
+your wages, you understand--we wish to give you five hundred francs, and
+perhaps a thousand, if the little one is altogether in good health. You
+understand?"
+
+The nurse stared at her, stupefied. "You will give me five hundred
+francs--for myself?" She sought to comprehend the words. "But that was
+not agreed, you don't have to do that at all."
+
+"No," admitted Madame Dupont.
+
+"But then," whispered the nurse, half to herself, "that's not natural."
+
+"Yes," the other hurried on, "it is because the baby will have need of
+extra care. You will have to take more trouble; you will have to give
+it medicines; your task will be a little more delicate, a little more
+difficult."
+
+"Oh, yes; then it's so that I will be sure to take care of her? I
+understand."
+
+"Then it's agreed?" exclaimed Madame Dupont, with relief.
+
+"Yes ma'am," said the nurse.
+
+"And you won't come later on to make reproaches to us? We understand one
+another clearly? We have warned you that the child is sick and that you
+could catch the disease. Because of that, because of the special need of
+care which she has, we promise you five hundred francs at the end of the
+nursing. That's all right, is it?
+
+"But, my lady," cried the nurse, all her cupidity awakened, "you spoke
+just now of a thousand francs."
+
+"Very well, then, a thousand francs."
+
+George passed behind the nurse and got his mother by the arm, drawing
+her to one side. "It would be a mistake," he whispered, "if we did not
+make her sign an agreement to all that."
+
+His mother turned to the nurse. "In order that there may be no
+misunderstanding about the sum--you see how it is, I had forgotten
+already that I had spoken of a thousand francs--we will draw up a little
+paper, and you, on your part, will write one for us."
+
+"Very good, ma'am," said the nurse, delighted with the idea of so
+important a transaction. "Why, it's just as you do when you rent a
+house!"
+
+"Here comes the doctor," said the other. "Come, nurse, it is agreed?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am," was the answer. But all the same, as she went out she
+hesitated and looked sharply first at the doctor, and then at George
+and his mother. She suspected that something was wrong, and she meant to
+find out if she could.
+
+The doctor seated himself in George's office chair, as if to write
+a prescription. "The child's condition remains the same," he said;
+"nothing disturbing."
+
+"Doctor," said Madame Dupont, gravely, "from now on, you will be able
+to devote your attention to the baby and the nurse without any scruple.
+During your absence we have arranged matters nicely. The nurse has been
+informed about the situation, and she does not mind. She has agreed to
+accept an indemnity, and the amount has been stated."
+
+But the doctor did not take these tidings as the other had hoped he
+might. He replied: "The malady which the nurse will almost inevitably
+contract in feeding the child is too grave in its consequences. Such
+consequences might go as far as complete helplessness, even as far as
+death. So I say that the indemnity, whatever it might be, would not pay
+the damage."
+
+"But," exclaimed the other, "she accepts it! She is mistress of herself,
+and she has the right--"
+
+"I am not at all certain that she has the right to sell her own health.
+And I am certain that she has not the right to sell the health of her
+husband and her children. If she becomes infected, it is nearly certain
+that she will communicate the disease to them; the health and the life
+of the children she might have later on would be greatly compromised.
+Such things she cannot possibly sell. Come, madame, you must see that a
+bargain of this sort isn't possible. If the evil has not been done, you
+must do everything to avoid it."
+
+"Sir," protested the mother, wildly, "you do not defend our interests!"
+
+"Madame," was the reply, "I defend those who are weakest."
+
+"If we had called in our own physician, who knows us," she protested,
+"he would have taken sides with us."
+
+The doctor rose, with a severe look on his face. "I doubt it," he said,
+"but there is still time to call him."
+
+George broke in with a cry of distress. "Sir, I implore you!"
+
+And the mother in turn cried. "Don't abandon us, sir! You ought to make
+allowances! If you knew what that child is to me! I tell you it seems to
+me as if I had waited for her coming in order to die. Have pity upon us!
+Have pity upon her! You speak of the weakest--it is not she who is the
+weakest? You have seen her, you have seen that poor little baby, so
+emaciated! You have seen what a heap of suffering she is already; and
+cannot that inspire in you any sympathy? I pray you, sir--I pray you!"
+
+"I pity her," said the doctor, "I would like to save her--and I will do
+everything for her. But do not ask me to sacrifice to a feeble infant,
+with an uncertain and probably unhappy life, the health of a sound and
+robust woman. It is useless for us to continue such a discussion as
+that."
+
+Whereupon Madame Dupont leaped up in sudden frenzy. "Very Well!" she
+exclaimed. "I will not follow your counsels, I will not listen to you!"
+
+Said the doctor in a solemn voice: "There is already some one here who
+regrets that he did not listen to me."
+
+"Yes," moaned George, "to my misfortune, to the misfortune of all of
+us."
+
+But Madame Dupont was quite beside herself. "Very well!" she cried. "If
+it is a fault, if it is a crime, if I shall have to suffer remorse for
+it in this life, and all the punishments in the life to come--I accept
+it all for myself alone! Myself alone, I take that responsibility! It is
+frightfully heavy, but I accept it. I am profoundly a Christian sir; I
+believe in eternal damnation; but to save my little child I consent to
+lose my soul forever. Yes, my mind is made up--I will do everything to
+save that life! Let God judge me; and if he condemns me, so much the
+worse for me!"
+
+The doctor answered: "That responsibility is one which I cannot let
+you take, for it will be necessary that I should accept my part, and I
+refuse it."
+
+"What will you do?"
+
+"I shall warn the nurse. I shall inform her exactly,
+completely--something which you have not done, I feel sure."
+
+"What?" cried Madame Dupont, wildly. "You, a doctor, called into a
+family which gives you its entire confidence, which hands over to you
+its most terrible secrets, its most horrible miseries--you would betray
+them?"
+
+"It is not a betrayal," replied the man, sternly. "It is something which
+the law commands; and even if the law were silent, I would not permit a
+family of worthy people to go astray so far as to commit a crime. Either
+I give up the case, or you have the nursing of the child stopped."
+
+"You threaten! You threaten!" cried the woman, almost frantic. "You
+abuse the power which your knowledge gives you! You know that it is you
+whose attention we need by that little cradle; you know that we believe
+in you, and you threaten to abandon us! Your abandonment means the death
+of the child, perhaps! And if I listen to you, if we stop the nursing of
+the child--that also means her death!"
+
+She flung up her hands like a mad creature. "And yet there is no other
+means! Ah, my God! Why do you not let it be possible for me to sacrifice
+myself? I would wish nothing more than to be able to do it--if only
+you might take my old body, my old flesh, my old bones--if only I might
+serve for something! How quickly would I consent that it should infect
+me--this atrocious malady! How I would offer myself to it--with what
+joys, with what delights--however disgusting, however frightful it
+might be, however much to be dreaded! Yes, I would take it without fear,
+without regret, if my poor old empty breasts might still give to the
+child the milk which would preserve its life!"
+
+She stopped; and George sprang suddenly from his seat, and fled to her
+and flung himself down upon his knees before her, mingling his sobs and
+tears with hers.
+
+The doctor rose and moved about the room, unable any longer to control
+his distress. "Oh, the poor people!" he murmured to himself. "The poor,
+poor people!"
+
+The storm passed, and Madame Dupont, who was a woman of strong
+character, got herself together. Facing the doctor again, she said,
+"Come, sir, tell us what we have to do."
+
+"You must stop the nursing, and keep the woman here as a dry nurse, in
+order that she may not go away to carry the disease elsewhere. Do not
+exaggerate to yourself the danger which will result to the child. I am,
+in truth, extremely moved by your suffering, and I will do everything--I
+swear it to you--that your baby may recover as quickly as possible its
+perfect health. I hope to succeed, and that soon. And now I must leave
+you until tomorrow."
+
+"Thank you, Doctor, thank you," said Madame Dupont, faintly.
+
+The young man rose and accompanied the doctor to the door. He could not
+bring himself to speak, but stood hanging his head until the other was
+gone. Then he came to his mother. He sought to embrace her, but she
+repelled him--without violence, but firmly.
+
+Her son stepped back and put his hands over his face. "Forgive me!" he
+said, in a broken voice. "Are we not unhappy enough, without hating each
+other?"
+
+His mother answered: "God has punished you for your debauch by striking
+at your child."
+
+But, grief-stricken as the young man was, he could not believe that.
+"Impossible!" he said. "There is not even a man sufficiently wicked or
+unjust to commit the act which you attribute to your God!"
+
+"Yes," said his mother, sadly, "you believe in nothing."
+
+"I believe in no such God as that," he answered.
+
+A silence followed. When it was broken, it was by the entrance of the
+nurse. She had opened the door of the room and had been standing there
+for some moments, unheeded. Finally she stepped forward. "Madame," she
+said, "I have thought it over; I would rather go back to my home at
+once, and have only the five hundred francs."
+
+Madame Dupont stared at her in consternation. "What is that you are
+saying? You want to return to your home?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am," was the answer.
+
+"But," cried George, "only ten minutes ago you were not thinking of it."
+
+"What has happened since then?" demanded Madame Dupont.
+
+"I have thought it over."
+
+"Thought it over?"
+
+"Well, I am getting lonesome for my little one and for my husband."
+
+"In the last ten minutes?" exclaimed George.
+
+"There must be something else," his mother added. "Evidently there must
+be something else."
+
+"No!" insisted the nurse.
+
+"But I say yes!"
+
+"Well, I'm afraid the air of Paris might not be good for me."
+
+"You had better wait and try it."
+
+"I would rather go back at once to my home."
+
+"Come, now," cried Madame Dupont, "tell us why?"
+
+"I have told you. I have thought it over."
+
+"Thought what over?"
+
+"Well, I have thought."
+
+"Oh," cried the mother, "what a stupid reply! 'I have thought it over! I
+have thought it over!' Thought WHAT over, I want to know!"
+
+"Well, everything."
+
+"Don't you know how to tell us what?"
+
+"I tell you, everything."
+
+"Why," exclaimed Madame Dupont, "you are an imbecile!"
+
+George stepped between his mother and the nurse. "Let me talk to her,"
+he said.
+
+The woman came back to her old formula: "I know that we're only poor
+country people."
+
+"Listen to me, nurse," said the young man. "Only a little while ago you
+were afraid that we would send you away. You were satisfied with the
+wages which my mother had fixed. In addition to those wages we had
+promised you a good sum when you returned to your home. Now you tell
+us that you want to go away. You see? All at once. There must be some
+reason; let us understand it. There must certainly be a reason. Has
+anybody done anything to you?"
+
+"No, sir," said the woman, dropping her eyes.
+
+"Well, then?"
+
+"I have thought it over."
+
+George burst out, "Don't go on repeating always the same thing--'I have
+thought it over!' That's not telling us anything." Controlling himself,
+he added, gently, "Come, tell me why you want to go away?"
+
+There was a silence. "Well?" he demanded.
+
+"I tell you, I have thought--"
+
+George exclaimed in despair, "It's as if one were talking to a block of
+wood!"
+
+His mother took up the conversation again. "You must realize, you have
+not the right to go away."
+
+The woman answered, "I WANT to go."
+
+"But I will not let you leave us."
+
+"No," interrupted George angrily, "let her go; we cannot fasten her
+here."
+
+"Very well, then," cried the exasperated mother, "since you want to go,
+go! But I have certainly the right to say to you that you are as stupid
+as the animals on your farm!"
+
+"I don't say that I am not," answered the woman.
+
+"I will not pay you the month which has just begun, and you will pay
+your railroad fare for yourself."
+
+The other drew back with a look of anger. "Oho!" she cried. "We'll see
+about that!"
+
+"Yes, we'll see about it!" cried George. "And you will get out of here
+at once. Take yourself off--I will have no more to do with you. Good
+evening."
+
+"No, George," protested his mother, "don't lose control of yourself."
+And then, with a great effort at calmness, "That cannot be serious,
+nurse! Answer me."
+
+"I would rather go off right away to my home, and only have my five
+hundred francs."
+
+"WHAT?" cried George, in consternation.
+
+"What's that you are telling me?" exclaimed Madame Dupont.
+
+"Five hundred francs?" repeated her son.
+
+"What five hundred francs?" echoed the mother.
+
+"The five hundred francs you promised me," said the nurse.
+
+"We have promised you five hundred francs? WE?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"When the child should be weaned, and if we should be satisfied with
+you! That was our promise."
+
+"No. You said you would give them to me when I was leaving. Now I am
+leaving, and I want them."
+
+Madame Dupont drew herself up, haughtily. "In the first place," she
+said, "kindly oblige me by speaking to me in another tone; do you
+understand?"
+
+The woman answered, "You have nothing to do but give me my money, and I
+will say nothing more."
+
+George went almost beside himself with rage at this. "Oh, it's like
+that?" he shouted. "Very well; I'll show you!" And he sprang to the door
+and opened it.
+
+But the nurse never budged. "Give me my five hundred francs!" she said.
+
+George seized her by the arm and shoved her toward the door. "You clear
+out of here, do you understand me? And as quickly as you can!"
+
+The woman shook her arm loose, and sneered into his face. "Come now,
+you--you can talk to me a little more politely, eh?"
+
+"Will you go?" shouted George, completely beside himself. "Will you go,
+or must I go out and look for a policeman?"
+
+"A policeman!" demanded the woman. "For what?"
+
+"To put you outside! You are behaving yourself like a thief."
+
+"A thief? I? What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that you are demanding money which doesn't belong to you."
+
+"More than that," broke in Madame Dupont, "you are destroying that poor
+little baby! You are a wicked woman!"
+
+"I will put you out myself!" shouted George, and seized her by the arm
+again.
+
+"Oh, it's like that, is it?" retorted the nurse. "Then you really want
+me to tell you why I am going away?"
+
+"Yes, tell me!" cried he.
+
+His mother added, "Yes, yes!"
+
+She would have spoken differently had she chanced to look behind her and
+seen Henriette, who at that moment appeared in the doorway. She had been
+about to go out, when her attention had been caught by the loud voices.
+She stood now, amazed, clasping her hands together, while the nurse,
+shaking her fist first at Madame Dupont and then at her son, cried
+loudly, "Very well! I'm going away because I don't want to catch a
+filthy disease here!"
+
+"HUSH!" cried Madame Dupont, and sprang toward her, her hands clenched
+as if she would choke her.
+
+"Be silent!" cried George, wild with terror.
+
+But the woman rushed on without dropping her voice, "Oh, you need not
+be troubling yourselves for fear anyone should overhear! All the world
+knows it! Your other servants were listening with me at your door! They
+heard every word your doctor said!"
+
+"Shut up!" screamed George.
+
+Her mother seized the woman fiercely by the arm. "Hold your tongue!" she
+hissed.
+
+But again the other shook herself loose. She was powerful, and now her
+rage was not to be controlled. She waved her hands in the air, shouting,
+"Let me be, let me be! I know all about your brat--that you will never
+be able to raise it--that it's rotten because it's father has a filthy
+disease he got from a woman of the street!"
+
+She got no farther. She was interrupted by a frenzied shriek from
+Henriette. The three turned, horrified, just in time to see her fall
+forward upon the floor, convulsed.
+
+"My God!" cried George. He sprang toward her, and tried to lift her, but
+she shrank from him, repelling him with a gesture of disgust, of hatred,
+of the most profound terror. "Don't touch me!" she screamed, like a
+maniac. "Don't touch me!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+It was in vain that Madame Dupont sought to control her daughter-in-law.
+Henriette was beside herself, frantic, she could not be brought to
+listen to any one. She rushed into the other room, and when the older
+woman followed her, shrieked out to be left alone. Afterwards, she fled
+to her own room and barred herself in, and George and his mother waited
+distractedly for hours until she should give some sign.
+
+Would she kill herself, perhaps? Madame Dupont hovered on guard about
+the door of the nursery for fear that the mother in her fit of insanity
+might attempt some harm to her child.
+
+The nurse had slunk away abashed when she saw the consequences of
+her outburst. By the time she had got her belongings packed, she had
+recovered her assurance. She wanted her five hundred; also she wanted
+her wages and her railroad fare home. She wanted them at once, and she
+would not leave until she got them. George and his mother, in the midst
+of all their anguish of mind, had to go through a disgusting scene with
+this coarse and angry woman.
+
+They had no such sum of money in the house, and the nurse refused to
+accept a check. She knew nothing about a check. It was so much paper,
+and might be some trick that they were playing on her. She kept
+repeating her old formula, "I am nothing but a poor country woman." Nor
+would she be contented with the promise that she would receive the money
+the next day. She seemed to be afraid that if she left the house she
+would be surrendering her claim. So at last the distracted George to
+sally forth and obtain the cash from some tradesmen in the neighborhood.
+
+The woman took her departure. They made her sign a receipt in full for
+all claims and they strove to persuade themselves that this made them
+safe; but in their hearts they had no real conviction of safety. What
+was the woman's signature, or her pledged word, against the cupidity of
+her husband and relatives. Always she would have the dreadful secret
+to hold over them, and so they would live under the shadow of possible
+blackmail.
+
+Later in the day Henriette sent for her mother-in-law. She was white,
+her eyes were swollen with weeping, and she spoke in a voice choked with
+sobs. She wished to return at once to her father's home, and to take
+little Gervaise with her. Madame Dupont cried out in horror at this
+proposition, and argued and pleaded and wept--but all to no purpose. The
+girl was immovable. She would not stay under her husband's roof, and she
+would take her child with her. It was her right, and no one could refuse
+her.
+
+The infant had been crying for hours, but that made no difference.
+Henriette insisted that a cab should be called at once.
+
+So she went back to the home of Monsieur Loches and told him the hideous
+story. Never before in her life had she discussed such subjects with
+any one, but now in her agitation she told her father all. As George had
+declared to the doctor, Monsieur Loches was a person of violent temper;
+at this revelation, at the sight of his daughter's agony, he was almost
+beside himself. His face turned purple, the veins stood out on his
+forehead; a trembling seized him. He declared that he would kill
+George--there was nothing else to do. Such a scoundrel should not be
+permitted to live.
+
+The effort which Henriette had to make to restrain him had a calming
+effect upon herself. Bitter and indignant as she was, she did not want
+George to be killed. She clung to her father, beseeching him to promise
+her that he would not do such a thing; and all that day and evening she
+watched him, unwilling to let him out of her sight.
+
+There was a matter which claimed her immediate attention, and which
+helped to withdraw them from the contemplation of their own sufferings.
+The infant must be fed and cared for--the unhappy victim of other
+people's sins, whose life was now imperiled. A dry nurse must be found
+at once, a nurse competent to take every precaution and give the
+child every chance. This nurse must be informed of the nature of the
+trouble--another matter which required a great deal of anxious thought.
+
+That evening came Madame Dupont, tormented by anxiety about the child's
+welfare, and beseeching permission to help take care of it. It was
+impossible to refuse such a request. Henriette could not endure to
+see her, but the poor grandmother would come and sit for hours in the
+nursery, watching the child and the nurse, in silent agony.
+
+This continued for days, while poor George wandered about at home,
+suffering such torment of mind as can hardly be imagined. Truly, in
+these days he paid for his sins; he paid a thousand-fold in agonized and
+impotent regret. He looked back upon the course of his life, and traced
+one by one the acts which had led him and those he loved into this
+nightmare of torment. He would have been willing to give his life if he
+could have undone those acts. But avenging nature offered him no such
+easy deliverance as that. We shudder as we read the grim words of the
+Jehovah of the ancient Hebrews; and yet not all the learning of modern
+times has availed to deliver us from the cruel decree, that the sins of
+the fathers shall be visited upon the children.
+
+George wrote notes to his wife, imploring her forgiveness. He poured
+out all his agony and shame to her, begging her to see him just once, to
+give him a chance to plead his defense. It was not much of a defense, to
+be sure; it was only that he had done no worse than the others did--only
+that he was a wretched victim of ignorance. But he loved her, he had
+proven that he loved her, and he pleaded that for the sake of their
+child she would forgive him.
+
+When all this availed nothing, he went to see the doctor, whose advice
+he had so shamefully neglected. He besought this man to intercede for
+him--which the doctor, of course, refused to do. It was an extra-medical
+matter, he said, and George was absurd to expect him to meddle in it.
+
+But, as a matter of fact, the doctor had already been interceding--he
+had gone farther in pleading George's cause than he was willing to have
+George know. For Monsieur Loches had paid him a visit--his purpose being
+to ask the doctor to continue attendance upon the infant, and also
+to give Henriette a certificate which she could use in her suit for a
+divorce from her husband.
+
+So inevitably there had been a discussion of the whole question between
+the two men. The doctor had granted the first request, but refused the
+second. In the first place, he said, there was a rule of professional
+secrecy which would prevent him. And when the father-in-law requested
+to know if the rule of professional secrecy compelled him to protect
+a criminal against honest people, the doctor answered that even if
+his ethics permitted it, he would still refuse the request. "I would
+reproach myself forever," he said, "if I had aided you to obtain such a
+divorce."
+
+"Then," cried the old man, vehemently, "because you profess such and
+such theories, because the exercise of your profession makes you the
+constant witness of such miseries--therefore it is necessary that my
+daughter should continue to bear that man's name all her life!"
+
+The doctor answered, gently, "Sir, I understand and respect your grief.
+But believe me, you are not in a state of mind to decide about these
+matters now."
+
+"You are mistaken," declared the other, controlling himself with an
+effort. "I have been thinking about nothing else for days. I have
+discussed it with my daughter, and she agrees with me. Surely, sir, you
+cannot desire that my daughter should continue to live with a man who
+has struck her so brutal, so cowardly, a blow."
+
+"If I refuse your request," the doctor answered, "it is in the interest
+of your daughter." Then, seeing the other's excitement returning, he
+continued, "In your state of mind, Monsieur Loches, I know that you will
+probably be abusing me before five minutes has passed. But that will not
+trouble me. I have seen many cases. And since I have made the mistake
+of letting myself be trapped into this discussion, I must explain to you
+the reason for my attitude. You ask of me a certificate so that you may
+prove in court that your son-in-law is afflicted with syphilis."
+
+"Precisely," said the other.
+
+"And have you not reflected upon this--that at the same time you will be
+publicly attesting that your daughter has been exposed to the contagion?
+With such an admission, an admission officially registered in the public
+records, do you believe that she will find it easy to re-marry later
+on?"
+
+"She will never re-marry," said the father.
+
+"She says that today, but can you affirm that she will say the same
+thing five years from now, ten years from now? I tell you you will
+not obtain that divorce, because I will most certainly refuse you the
+necessary certificate."
+
+"Then," cried the other, "I will find other means of establishing
+proofs. I will have the child examined by another doctor!"
+
+The other answered. "Then you do not find that that poor little one has
+been already sufficiently handicapped at the outset of its life? Your
+granddaughter has a physical defect. Do you wish to add to that a
+certificate of hereditary syphilis, which will follow her all her life?"
+
+Monsieur Loches sprang from his chair. "You mean that if the victims
+seek to defend themselves, they will be struck the harder! You mean that
+the law gives me no weapon against a man who, knowing his condition,
+takes a young girl, sound, trusting, innocent, and befouls her with the
+result of his debauches--makes her the mother of a poor little creature,
+whose future is such that those who love her the most do not know
+whether they ought to pray for her life, or for her immediate
+deliverance? Sir," he continued, in his orator's voice, "that man has
+inflicted upon the woman he has married a supreme insult. He has made
+her the victim of the most odious assault. He has degraded her--he has
+brought her, so to speak, into contact with the woman of the streets. He
+has created between her and that common woman I know not what mysterious
+relationship. It is the poisoned blood of the prostitute which poisons
+my daughter and her child; that abject creature, she lives, she lives in
+us! She belongs to our family--he has given her a seat at our hearth! He
+has soiled the imagination and the thoughts of my poor child, as he
+has soiled her body. He has united forever in her soul the idea of
+love which she has placed so high, with I know not what horrors of the
+hospitals. He has tainted her in her dignity and her modesty, in her
+love as well as in her baby. He has struck her down with physical and
+moral decay, he has overwhelmed her with vileness. And yet the law is
+such, the customs of society are such, that the woman cannot separate
+herself from that man save by the aid of legal proceedings whose scandal
+will fall upon herself and upon her child!"
+
+Monsieur Loches had been pacing up and down the room as he spoke, and
+now he clenched his fists in sudden fury.
+
+"Very well! I will not address myself to the law. Since I learned the
+truth I have been asking myself if it was not my duty to find that
+monster and to put a bullet into his head, as one does to a mad dog. I
+don't know what weakness, what cowardice, has held me back, and decided
+me to appeal to the law. Since the law will not protect me, I will seek
+justice for myself. Perhaps his death will be a good warning for the
+others!"
+
+The doctor shrugged his shoulders, as if to say that this was no affair
+of his and that he would not try to interfere. But he remarked, quietly:
+"You will be tried for your life."
+
+"I shall be acquitted!" cried the other.
+
+"Yes, but after a public revelation of all your miseries. You will make
+the scandal greater, the miseries greater--that is all. And how do you
+know but that on the morrow of your acquittal, you will find yourself
+confronting another court, a higher and more severe one? How do you
+know but that your daughter, seized at last by pity for the man you have
+killed, will not demand to know by what right you have acted so, by what
+right you have made an orphan of her child? How can you know but that
+her child also may some day demand an accounting of you?"
+
+Monsieur Loches let his hands fall, and stood, a picture of crushed
+despair. "Tell me then," he said, in a faint voice, "what ought I to
+do?"
+
+"Forgive!"
+
+For a while the doctor sat looking at him. "Sir," he said, at last,
+"tell me one thing. You are inflexible; you feel you have the right to
+be inflexible. But are you really so certain that it was not your duty,
+once upon a time, to save your daughter from the possibility of such
+misfortune?"
+
+"What?" cried the other. "My duty? What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean this, sir. When that marriage was being discussed, you certainly
+took precautions to inform yourself about the financial condition of
+your future son-in-law. You demanded that he should prove to you that
+his stocks and bonds were actual value, listed on the exchange. Also,
+you obtained some information about his character. In fact, you forgot
+only one point, the most important of all--that was, to inquire if he
+was in good health. You never did that."
+
+The father-in-law's voice had become faint. "No," he said.
+
+"But why not?"
+
+"Because that is not the custom."
+
+"Very well, but that ought to be the custom. Surely the father of a
+family, before he gives his daughter to a man, should take as much
+precaution as a business concern which accepts an employee."
+
+"You are right," was the reply, "there should be a law." The man spoke
+as a deputy, having authority in these matters.
+
+But the doctor cried, "No, no, sir! Do not make a new law. We have
+too many already. There is no need of it. It would suffice that people
+should know a little better what syphilis is. The custom would establish
+itself very quickly for a suitor to add to all the other documents
+which he presents, a certificate of a doctor, as proof that he could
+be received into a family without bringing a pestilence with him. That
+would be very simple. Once let the custom be established, then the
+suitor would go to the doctor for a certificate of health, just as he
+goes to the priest for a certificate that he has confessed; and by that
+means you would prevent a great deal of suffering in the world. Or let
+me put it another way, sir. Nowadays, before you conclude a marriage,
+you get the lawyers of the two families together. It would be of at
+least equal importance to get their two doctors together. You see, sir,
+your inquiry concerning your son-in-law was far from complete. So your
+daughter may fairly ask you, why you, being a man, being a father who
+ought to know these things, did not take as much care of her health as
+you took of her fortune. So it is, sir, that I say to you, forgive!"
+
+But Monsieur Loches said again, "Never!"
+
+And again the doctor sat and watched him for a minute. "Come, sir," he
+began, finally, "since it is necessary to employ the last argument, I
+will do so. To be so severe and so pitiless--are you yourself without
+sin?"
+
+The other answered, "I have never had a shameful disease."
+
+"I do not ask you that," interrupted the doctor. "I ask you if you have
+never exposed yourself to the chance of having it." And then, reading
+the other's face, he went on, in a tone of quiet certainty. "Yes, you
+have exposed yourself. Then, sir, it was not virtue that you had; it
+was good fortune. That is one of the things which exasperate me the
+most--that term 'shameful disease' which you have just used. Like all
+other diseases, that is one of our misfortunes, and it is never shameful
+to be unfortunate--even if one has deserved it." The doctor paused,
+and then with some excitement he went on: "Come, sir, come, we must
+understand each other. Among men the most exacting, among those who with
+their middle-class prudery dare not pronounce the name of syphilis,
+or who make the most terrifying faces, the most disgusted, when they
+consent to speak of it--who regard the syphilitic as sinners--I should
+wish to know how many there are who have never exposed themselves to a
+similar misadventure. They and they alone have the right to speak. How
+many are there? Among a thousand men, are there four? Very well, then.
+Excepting those four, between all the rest and the syphilitic there is
+nothing but the difference of chance."
+
+There came into the doctor's voice at this moment a note of intense
+feeling; for these were matters of which evidence came to him every day.
+"I tell you, sir, that such people are deserving of sympathy, because
+they are suffering. If they have committed a fault, they have at least
+the plea that they are expiating it. No, sir, let me hear no more of
+that hypocrisy. Recall your own youth, sir. That which afflicts your
+son-in-law, you have deserved it just as much as he--more than he,
+perhaps. Therefore, have pity on him; have for him the toleration which
+the unpunished criminal ought to have for the criminal less fortunate
+than himself upon whom the penalty has fallen. Is that not so?"
+
+Monsieur Loches had been listening to this discourse with the feeling of
+a thief before the bar. There was nothing that he could answer. "Sir,"
+he stammered, "as you present this thing to me--"
+
+"But am I not right?" insisted the doctor.
+
+"Perhaps you are," the other admitted. "But--I cannot say all that to my
+daughter, to persuade her to go back to her husband."
+
+"You can give her other arguments," was the answer.
+
+"What arguments, in God's name?"
+
+"There is no lack of them. You will say to her that a separation would
+be a misfortune for all; that her husband is the only one in the world
+who would be devoted enough to help her save her child. You will say to
+her that out of the ruins of her first happiness she can build herself
+another structure, far stronger. And, sir, you will add to that whatever
+your good heart may suggest--and we will arrange so that the next child
+of the pair shall be sound and vigorous."
+
+Monsieur Loches received this announcement with the same surprise that
+George himself had manifested. "Is that possible?" he asked.
+
+The doctor cried: "Yes, yes, yes--a thousand times yes! There is a
+phrase which I repeat on every occasion, and which I would wish to post
+upon the walls. It is that syphilis is an imperious mistress, who only
+demands that one should recognize her power. She is terrible for
+those who think her insignificant, and gentle with those who know how
+dangerous she is. You know that kind of mistress--who is only vexed when
+she is neglected. You may tell this to your daughter--you will restore
+her to the arms of her husband, from whom she has no longer anything
+to fear, and I will guarantee that you will be a happy grandfather two
+years from now."
+
+Monsieur Loches at last showed that he was weakened in his resolution.
+
+"Doctor," he said, "I do not know that I can ever go so far as
+forgiveness, but I promise you that I will do no irreparable act, and
+that I will not oppose a reconciliation if after the lapse of some
+time--I cannot venture to say how long--my poor child should make up her
+mind to a reconciliation."
+
+"Very good," said the other. "But let me add this: If you have another
+daughter, take care to avoid the fault which you committed when you
+married off the first."
+
+"But," said the old man, "I did not know."
+
+"Ah, surely!" cried the other. "You did not know! You are a father, and
+you did not know! You are a deputy, you have assumed the responsibility
+and the honor of making our laws--and you did not know! You are ignorant
+about syphilis, just as you probably are ignorant about alcoholism and
+tuberculosis."
+
+"No," exclaimed the other, quickly.
+
+"Very well," said the doctor, "I will leave you out, if you wish. I am
+talking of the others, the five hundred, and I don't know how many
+more, who are there in the Chamber of Deputies, and who call themselves
+representatives of the people. They are not able to find a single hour
+to discuss these three cruel gods, to which egotism and indifference
+make every day such frightful human sacrifices. They have not sufficient
+leisure to combat this ferocious trinity, which destroys every day
+thousands of lives. Alcoholism! It would be necessary to forbid the
+manufacture of poisons, and to restrict the number of licenses; but as
+one has fear of the great distillers, who are rich and powerful, and of
+the little dealers, who are the masters of universal suffrage, one
+puts one's conscience to sleep by lamenting the immorality of
+the working-class, and publishing little pamphlets and sermons.
+Imbeciles!...Tuberculosis! Everybody knows the true remedy, which would
+be the paying of sufficient wages, and the tearing down of the filthy
+tenements into which the laborers are packed--those who are the most
+useful and the most unfortunate among our population! But needless to
+say, no one wants that remedy, so we go round begging the workingmen not
+to spit on the sidewalks. Wonderful! But syphilis--why do you not occupy
+yourself with that? Why, since you have ministers whose duty it is to
+attend to all sorts of things, do you not have a minister to attend to
+the public health?"
+
+"My dear Doctor," responded Monsieur Loches, "you fall into the French
+habit of considering the government as the cause of all evils. Show us
+the way, you learned gentlemen! Since that is a matter about which you
+are informed, and we are ignorant, begin by telling us what measures you
+believe to be necessary."
+
+"Ah, ah!" exclaimed the other. "That's fine, indeed! It was about
+eighteen years ago that a project of that nature, worked out by the
+Academy of Medicine, and approved by it UNANIMOUSLY, was sent to the
+proper minister. We have not yet heard his reply."
+
+"You really believe," inquired Monsieur Loches, in some bewilderment,
+"you believe that there are some measures--"
+
+"Sir," broke in the doctor, "before we get though, you are going to
+suggest some measures yourself. Let me tell you what happened today.
+When I received your card I did not know that you were the father-in-law
+of George Dupont. I say that you were a deputy, and I thought that you
+wanted to get some information about these matters. There was a woman
+patient waiting to see me, and I kept her in my waiting-room--saying to
+myself, This is just the sort of person that our deputies ought to talk
+to."
+
+The doctor paused for a moment, then continued: "Be reassured, I will
+take care of your nerves. This patient has no trouble that is apparent
+to the eye. She is simply an illustration of the argument I have been
+advancing--that our worst enemy is ignorance. Ignorance--you understand
+me? Since I have got you here, sir, I am going to hold you until I have
+managed to cure a little of your ignorance! For I tell you, sir, it is
+a thing which drives me to distraction--we MUST do something about these
+conditions! Take this case, for example. Here is a woman who is very
+seriously infected. I told her--well, wait; you shall see for yourself."
+
+The doctor went to the door and summoned into the room a woman whom
+Monsieur Loches had noticed waiting there. She was verging on old age,
+small, frail, and ill-nourished in appearance, poorly dressed, and yet
+with a suggestion of refinement about her. She stood near the door,
+twisting her hands together nervously, and shrinking from the gaze of
+the strange gentleman. The doctor began in an angry voice. "Did I not
+tell you to come and see me once every eight days? Is that not true?"
+
+The woman answered, in a faint voice, "Yes, sir."
+
+"Well," he exclaimed, "and how long has it been since you were here?"
+
+"Three months, sir."
+
+"Three months! And you believe that I can take care of you under such
+conditions? I give you up! Do you understand? You discourage me, you
+discourage me." There was a pause. Then, seeing the woman's suffering,
+he began, in a gentler tone, "Come now, what is the reason that you
+have not come? Didn't you know that you have a serious disease--most
+serious?"
+
+"Oh, yes, sir," replied the woman, "I know that very well--since my
+husband died of it."
+
+The doctor's voice bore once again its note of pity. "Your husband died
+of it?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"He took no care of himself?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"And was not that a warning to you?"
+
+"Doctor," the woman replied, "I would ask nothing better than to come as
+often as you told me, but the cost is too great."
+
+"How--what cost? You were coming to my free clinic."
+
+"Yes, sir," replied the woman, "but that's during working hours, and
+then it is a long way from home. There are so many sick people, and I
+have to wait my turn, It is in the morning--sometimes I lose a whole
+day--and then my employer is annoyed, and he threatens to turn me off.
+It is things like that that keep people from coming, until they dare not
+put it off any longer. Then, too, sir--" the woman stopped, hesitating.
+
+"Well," demanded the doctor.
+
+"Oh, nothing, sir," she stammered. "You have been too good to me
+already."
+
+"Go on," commanded the other. "Tell me."
+
+"Well," murmured the woman, "I know I ought not to put on airs, but you
+see I have not always been so poor. Before my husband's misfortune,
+we were well fixed. So you see, I have a little pride. I have always
+managed to take care of myself. I am not a woman of the streets, and to
+stand around like that, with everybody else, to be obliged to tell
+all one's miseries out loud before the world! I am wrong, I know it
+perfectly well; I argue with myself--but all the same, it's hard, sir; I
+assure you, it is truly hard."
+
+"Poor woman!" said the doctor; and for a while there was a silence. Then
+he asked: "It was your husband who brought you the disease?"
+
+"Yes, sir," was the reply. "Everything which happened to us came from
+him. We were living in the country when he got the disease. He went half
+crazy. He no longer knew how to manage his affairs. He gave orders here
+and there for considerable sums. We were not able to find the money."
+
+"Why did he not undergo treatment?"
+
+"He didn't know then. We were sold out, and we came to Paris. But we
+hadn't a penny. He decided to go to the hospital for treatment."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"Why, they looked him over, but they refused him any medicine."
+
+"How was that?"
+
+"Because we had been in Paris only three months. If one hasn't been a
+resident six months, one has no right to free medicine."
+
+"Is that true?" broke in Monsieur Loches quickly.
+
+"Yes," said the doctor, "that's the rule."
+
+"So you see," said the woman, "it was not our fault."
+
+"You never had children?" inquired the doctor.
+
+"I was never able to bring one to birth," was the answer. "My husband
+was taken just at the beginning of our marriage--it was while he
+was serving in the army. You know, sir--there are women about the
+garrisons--" She stopped, and there was a long silence.
+
+"Come," said the doctor, "that's all right. I will arrange it with you.
+You can come here to my office, and you can come on Sunday mornings."
+And as the poor creature started to express her gratitude, he slipped a
+coin into her hand. "Come, come; take it," he said gruffly. "You are not
+going to play proud with me. No, no, I have no time to listen to you.
+Hush!" And he pushed her out of the door.
+
+Then he turned to the deputy. "You heard her story, sir," he said. "Her
+husband was serving his time in the army; it was you law-makers who
+compelled him to do that. And there are women about the garrisons--you
+heard how her voice trembled as she said that? Take my advice, sir, and
+look up the statistics as to the prevalence of this disease among our
+soldiers. Come to some of my clinics, and let me introduce you to other
+social types. You don't care very much about soldiers, perhaps--they
+belong to the lower classes, and you think of them as rough men. But let
+me show you what is going on among our college students--among the men
+our daughters are some day to marry. Let me show you the women who prey
+upon them! Perhaps, who knows--I can show you the very woman who was the
+cause of all the misery in your own family!"
+
+And as Monsieur Loches rose from his chair, the doctor came to him and
+took him by the hand. "Promise me, sir," he said, earnestly, "that you
+will come back and let me teach you more about these matters. It is a
+chance that I must not let go--the first time in my life that I ever got
+hold of a real live deputy! Come and make a study of this subject, and
+let us try to work out some sensible plan, and get seriously to work to
+remedy these frightful evils!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+George lived with his mother after Henriette had left his home. He was
+wretchedly unhappy and lonely. He could find no interest in any of the
+things which had pleased him before. He was ashamed to meet any of his
+friends, because he imagined that everyone must have heard the dreadful
+story--or because he was not equal to making up explanations for his
+mournful state. He no longer cared much about his work. What was the
+use of making a reputation or earning large fees when one had nothing to
+spend them for?
+
+All his thoughts were fixed upon the wife and child he had lost. He was
+reminded of Henriette in a thousand ways, and each way brought him a
+separate pang of grief. He had never realized how much he had come to
+depend upon her in every little thing--until now, when her companionship
+was withdrawn from him, and everything seemed to be a blank. He would
+come home at night, and opposite to him at the dinner-table would be his
+mother, silent and spectral. How different from the days when Henriette
+was there, radiant and merry, eager to be told everything that had
+happened to him through the day!
+
+There was also his worry about little Gervaise. He might no longer hear
+how she was doing, for he could not get up courage to ask his mother
+the news. Thus poor George was paying for his sins. He could make no
+complaints against the price, however high--only sometimes he
+wondered whether he would be able to pay it. There were times of such
+discouragement that he thought of different ways of killing himself.
+
+A curious adventure befell him during this period. He was walking one
+day in the park, when he saw approaching a girl whose face struck him as
+familiar. At first he could not recollect where he had seen her. It was
+only when she was nearly opposite him that he realized--it was the girl
+who had been the cause of all his misery!
+
+He tried to look away, but he was too late. Her eyes had caught his, and
+she nodded and then stopped, exclaiming, "Why, how do you do?"
+
+George had to face her. "How do you do?" he responded, weakly.
+
+She held out her hand and he had to take it, but there was not much
+welcome in his clasp. "Where have you been keeping yourself?" she asked.
+Then, as he hesitated, she laughed good-naturedly, "What's the matter?
+You don't seem glad to see me."
+
+The girl--Therese was her name--had a little package under her arm, as
+if she had been shopping. She was not well dressed, as when George had
+met her before, and doubtless she thought that was the reason for his
+lack of cordiality. This made him rather ashamed, and so, only half
+realizing what he was doing, he began to stroll along with her.
+
+"Why did you never come to see me again?" she asked.
+
+George hesitated. "I--I--" he stammered--"I've been married since then."
+
+She laughed. "Oh! So that's it!" And then, as they came to a bench under
+some trees, "Won't you sit down a while?" There was allurement in her
+glance, but it made George shudder. It was incredible to him that he
+had ever been attracted by this crude girl. The spell was now broken
+completely.
+
+She quickly saw that something was wrong. "You don't seem very
+cheerful," she said. "What's the matter?"
+
+And the man, staring at her, suddenly blurted out, "Don't you know what
+you did to me?"
+
+"What I did to you?" Therese repeated wonderingly.
+
+"You must know!" he insisted.
+
+And then she tried to meet his gaze and could not. "Why--" she
+stammered.
+
+There was silence between them. When George spoke again his voice was
+low and trembling. "You ruined my whole life," he said--"not only mine,
+but my family's. How could you do it?"
+
+She strove to laugh it off. "A cheerful topic for an afternoon stroll!"
+
+For a long while George did not answer. Then, almost in a whisper, he
+repeated, "How could you do it?"
+
+"Some one did it to me first," was the response. "A man!"
+
+"Yes," said George, "but he didn't know."
+
+"How can you tell whether he knew or not?"
+
+"You knew?" he inquired, wonderingly.
+
+Therese hesitated. "Yes, I knew," she said at last, defiantly. "I have
+known for years."
+
+"And I'm not the only man."
+
+She laughed. "I guess not!"
+
+There followed a long pause. At last he resumed, "I don't want to blame
+you; there's nothing to be gained by that; it's done, and can't
+be undone. But sometimes I wonder about it. I should like to
+understand--why did you do it?"
+
+"Why? That's easy enough. I did it because I have to live."
+
+"You live that way?" he exclaimed.
+
+"Why of course. What did you think?"
+
+"I thought you were a--a--" He hesitated.
+
+"You thought I was respectable," laughed Therese. "Well, that's just a
+little game I was playing on you."
+
+"But I didn't give you any money!" he argued.
+
+"Not that time," she said, "but I thought you would come back."
+
+He sat gazing at her. "And you earn your living that way still?" he
+asked. "When you know what's the matter with you! When you know--"
+
+"What can I do? I have to live, don't I?"
+
+"But don't you even take care of yourself? Surely there must be some
+way, some place--"
+
+"The reformatory, perhaps," she sneered. "No, thanks! I'll go there
+when the police catch me, not before. I know some girls that have tried
+that."
+
+"But aren't you afraid?" cried the man. "And the things that will happen
+to you! Have you ever talked to a doctor--or read a book?"
+
+"I know," she said. "I've seen it all. If it comes to me, I'll go over
+the side of one of the bridges some dark night."
+
+George sat lost in thought. A strange adventure it seemed to him--to
+meet this girl under such different circumstances! It was as if he were
+watching a play from behind the scenes instead of in front. If only he
+had had this new view in time--how different would have been his life!
+And how terrible it was to think of the others who didn't know--the
+audience who were still sitting out in front, watching the spectacle,
+interested in it!
+
+His thoughts came back to Therese. He was curious about her and the life
+she lived. "Tell me a little about it," he said. "How you came to be
+doing this." And he added, "Don't think I want to preach; I'd really
+like to understand."
+
+"Oh, it's a common story," she said--"nothing especially romantic.
+I came to Paris when I was a girl. My parents had died, and I had no
+friends, and I didn't know what to do. I got a place as a nursemaid.
+I was seventeen years old then, and I didn't know anything. I believed
+what I was told, and I believed my employer. His wife was ill in a
+hospital, and he said he wanted to marry me when she died. Well, I liked
+him, and I was sorry for him--and then the first thing I knew I had a
+baby. And then the wife came back, and I was turned off. I had been a
+fool, of course. If I had been in her place should have done just what
+she did."
+
+The girl was speaking in a cold, matter-of-fact voice, as of things
+about which she was no longer able to suffer. "So, there I was--on the
+street," she went on. "You have always had money, a comfortable home,
+education, friends to help you--all that. You can't imagine how it is
+to be in the world without any of these things. I lived on my savings as
+long as I could; then I had to leave my baby in a foundling's home, and
+I went out to do my five hours on the boulevards. You know the game, I
+have no doubt."
+
+Yes, George knew the game. Somehow or other he no longer felt bitter
+towards this poor creature. She was part of the system of which he was
+a victim also. There was nothing to be gained by hating each other.
+Just as the doctor said, what was needed was enlightenment. "Listen," he
+said, "why don't you try to get cured?"
+
+"I haven't got the price," was the answer.
+
+"Well," he said, hesitatingly, "I know a doctor--one of the really good
+men. He has a free clinic, and I've no doubt he would take you in if I
+asked him to."
+
+"YOU ask him?" echoed the other, looking at George in surprise.
+
+The young man felt somewhat uncomfortable. He was not used to playing
+the role of the good Samaritan. "I--I need not tell him about us," he
+stammered. "I could just say that I met you. I have had such a wretched
+time myself, I feel sorry for anybody that's in the same plight. I
+should like to help you if I could."
+
+The girl sat staring before her, lost in thought. "I have treated you
+badly, I guess," she said. "I'm sorry. I'm ashamed of myself."
+
+George took a pencil and paper from his pocket and wrote the doctor's
+address. "Here it is," he said, in a business-like way, because he felt
+that otherwise he could become sentimental. He was half tempted to tell
+the woman what had happened to him, and all about Henriette and the
+sick child; but he realized that that would not do. So he rose and shook
+hands with her and left.
+
+The next time he saw the doctor he told him about this girl. He decided
+to tell him the truth--having already made so many mistakes trying
+to conceal things. The doctor agreed to treat the woman, making the
+condition that George promise not to see her again.
+
+The young man was rather shocked at this. "Doctor," he exclaimed, "I
+assure you you are mistaken. The thing you have in mind would be utterly
+impossible."
+
+"I know," said the other, "you think so. But I think, young man, that
+I know more about life than you do. When a man and a woman have once
+committed such a sin, it is easy for them to slip back. The less time
+they spend talking about their misfortunes, and being generous and
+forbearing to each other, the better for them both."
+
+"But, Doctor," cried George. "I love Henriette! I could not possibly
+love anyone else. It would be horrible to me!"
+
+"Yes," said the doctor. "But you are not living with Henriette. You are
+wandering round, not knowing what to do with yourself next."
+
+There was no need for anybody to tell George that. "What do you think?"
+he asked abruptly. "Is there any hope for me?"
+
+"I think there is," said the other, who, in spite of his resolution, had
+become a sort of ambassador for the unhappy husband. He had to go to
+the Loches house to attend the child, and so he could not help seeing
+Henriette, and talking to her about the child's health and her own
+future. He considered that George had had his lesson, and urged upon the
+young wife that he would be wiser in future, and safe to trust.
+
+George had indeed learned much. He got new lessons every time he went to
+call at the physician's office--he could read them in the faces of the
+people he saw there. One day when he was alone in the waiting-room, the
+doctor came out of his inner office, talking to an elderly gentleman,
+whom George recognized as the father of one of his classmates at
+college. The father was a little shopkeeper, and the young man
+remembered how pathetically proud he had been of his son. Could it be,
+thought George, that this old man was a victim of syphilis?
+
+But it was the son, and not the father, who was the subject of the
+consultation. The old man was speaking in a deeply moved voice, and he
+stood so that George could not help hearing what he said. "Perhaps you
+can't understand," he said, "just what it means to us--the hopes we had
+of that boy! Such a fine fellow he was, and a good fellow, too, sir! We
+were so proud of him; we had bled our veins to keep him in college--and
+now just see!"
+
+"Don't despair, sir," said the doctor, "we'll try to cure him." And he
+added with that same note of sorrow in his voice which George had heard,
+"Why did you wait so long before you brought the boy to me?"
+
+"How was I to know what he had?" cried the other. "He didn't dare tell
+me, sir--he was afraid of my scolding him. And in the meantime the
+disease was running its course. When he realized that he had it, he went
+secretly to one of the quacks, who robbed him, and didn't cure him. You
+know how it is, sir."
+
+"Yes, I know," said the doctor.
+
+"Such things ought not to be permitted," cried the old man. "What is
+our government about that it allows such things to go on? Take the
+conditions there at the college where my poor boy was ruined. At the
+very gates of the building these women are waiting for the lads! Ought
+they to be permitted to debauch young boys only fifteen years old?
+Haven't we got police enough to prevent a thing like that? Tell me,
+sir!"
+
+"One would think so," said the doctor, patiently.
+
+"But is it that the police don't want to?"
+
+"No doubt they have the same excuse as all the rest--they don't know.
+Take courage, sir; we have cured worse cases than your son's. And some
+day, perhaps, we shall be able to change these conditions."
+
+So he went on with the man, leaving George with something to think
+about. How much he could have told them about what had happened to that
+young fellow when only fifteen years old! It had not been altogether the
+fault of the women who were lurking outside of the college gates; it was
+a fact that the boy's classmates had teased him and ridiculed him, had
+literally made his life a torment, until he had yielded to temptation.
+
+It was the old, old story of ignorant and unguided schoolboys all over
+the world! They thought that to be chaste was to be weak and foolish;
+that a fellow was not a man unless he led a life of debauchery like the
+rest. And what did they know about these dreadful diseases? They had the
+most horrible superstitions--ideas of cures so loathsome that they could
+not be set down in print; ideas as ignorant and destructive as those
+of savages in the heart of Africa. And you might hear them laughing
+and jesting about one another's condition. They might be afflicted with
+diseases which would have the most terrible after-effects upon their
+whole lives and upon their families--diseases which cause tens of
+thousands of surgical operations upon women, and a large percentage of
+blindness and idiocy in children--and you might hear them confidently
+express the opinion that these diseases were no worse than a bad cold!
+
+And all this mass of misery and ignorance covered over and clamped
+down by a taboo of silence, imposed by the horrible superstition of
+sex-prudery! George went out from the doctor's office trembling with
+excitement over this situation. Oh, why had not some one warned him in
+time? Why didn't the doctors and the teachers lift up their voices and
+tell young men about these frightful dangers? He wanted to go out in
+the highways and preach it himself--except that he dared not, because he
+could not explain to the world his own sudden interest in this forbidden
+topic.
+
+These was only one person he dared to talk to: that was his mother--to
+whom he ought to have talked many, many years before. He was moved to
+mention to her the interview he had overheard in the doctor's office. In
+a sudden burst of grief he told her of his struggles and temptations; he
+pleaded with her to go to Henriette once more--to tell her these things,
+and try to make her realize that he alone was not to blame for them,
+that they were a condition which prevailed everywhere, that the only
+difference between her husband and other men was that he had had the
+misfortune to be caught.
+
+There was pressure being applied to Henriette from several sides. After
+all, what could she do? She was comfortable in her father's home, so far
+as the physical side of things went; but she knew that all her friends
+were gossiping and speculating about her separation from her husband,
+and sooner or later she would have to make up her mind, either to
+separate permanently from George or to return to him. There was not much
+happiness for her in the thought of getting a divorce from a man whom
+deep in her heart she loved. She would be practically a widow the rest
+of her life, and the home in which poor little Gervaise would be brought
+up would not be a cheerful one.
+
+George was ready to offer any terms, if only she would come back to his
+home. They might live separate lives for as long as Henriette wished.
+They would have no more children until the doctor declared it was quite
+safe; and in the meantime he would be humble and patient, and would try
+his best to atone for the wrong that he had done her.
+
+To these arguments Madame Dupont added others of her own. She told the
+girl some things which through bitter experience she had learned about
+the nature and habits of men; things that should be told to every girl
+before marriage, but which almost all of them are left to find out
+afterwards, with terrible suffering and disillusionment. Whatever
+George's sins may have been, he was a man who had been chastened by
+suffering, and would know how to value a woman's love for the rest of
+his life. Not all men knew that--not even those who had been fortunate
+in escaping from the so-called "shameful disease."
+
+Henriette was also hearing arguments from her father, who by this time
+had had time to think things over, and had come to the conclusion
+that the doctor was right. He had noted his son-in-law's patience and
+penitence, and had also made sure that in spite of everything Henriette
+still loved him. The baby apparently was doing well; and the Frenchman,
+with his strong sense of family ties, felt it a serious matter to
+separate a child permanently from its father. So in the end he cast
+the weight of his influence in favor of a reconciliation, and Henriette
+returned to her husband, upon terms which the doctor laid down.
+
+The doctor played in these negotiations the part which he had not been
+allowed to play in the marriage. For the deputy was now thoroughly awake
+to the importance of the duty he owed his daughter. In fact, he had
+become somewhat of a "crank" upon the whole subject. He had attended
+several of the doctor's clinics, and had read books and pamphlets on the
+subject of syphilis, and was now determined that there should be some
+practical steps towards reform.
+
+At the outset, he had taken the attitude of the average legislator, that
+the thing to do was to strengthen the laws against prostitution, and to
+enforce them more strictly. He echoed the cry of the old man whom George
+had heard in the doctor's office: "Are there not enough police?"
+
+"We must go to the source," he declared. "We must proceed against these
+miserable women--veritable poisoners that they are!"
+
+He really thought this was going to the source! But the doctor was quick
+to answer his arguments. "Poisoners?" he said. "You forget that they
+have first been poisoned. Every one of these women who communicates the
+disease has first received it from some man."
+
+Monsieur Loches advanced to his second idea, to punish the men. But the
+doctor had little interest in this idea either. He had seen it tried so
+many times--such a law could never be enforced. What must come first was
+education, and by this means a modification of morals. People must cease
+to treat syphilis as a mysterious evil, of which not even the name could
+be pronounced.
+
+"But," objected the other, "one cannot lay it bare to children in our
+educational institutions!"
+
+"Why not?" asked the doctor.
+
+"Because, sir, there are curiosities which it would be imprudent to
+awaken."
+
+The doctor became much excited whenever he heard this argument. "You
+believe that you are preventing these curiosities from awakening?"
+he demanded. "I appeal to those--both men and women--who have passed
+through colleges and boarding schools! Such curiosities cannot be
+smothered, and they satisfy themselves as best they can, basely,
+vilely. I tell you, sir, there is nothing immoral about the act which
+perpetuates life by means of love. But we organize around it, so far as
+concerns our children, a gigantic and rigorous conspiracy of silence.
+The worthy citizen takes his daughter and his son to popular musical
+comedies, where they listen to things which would make a monkey blush;
+but it is forbidden to discuss seriously before the young that act
+of love which people seem to think they should only know of through
+blasphemies and profanations! Either that act is a thing of which
+people can speak without blushing--or else, sir, it is a matter for
+the innuendoes of the cabaret and the witticisms of the messroom!
+Pornography is admitted, but science is not! I tell you, sir, that is
+the thing which must be changed! We must elevate the soul of the young
+man by taking these facts out of the realm of mystery and of slang. We
+must awaken in him a pride in that creative power with which each one of
+us is endowed. We must make him understand that he is a sort of temple
+in which is prepared the future of the race, and we must teach him that
+he must transmit, intact, the heritage entrusted to him--the precious
+heritage which has been built out of the tears and miseries and
+sufferings of an interminable line of ancestors!"
+
+So the doctor argued. He brought forth case after case to prove that the
+prostitute was what she was, not because of innate vileness, but because
+of economic conditions. It happened that the deputy came to one of the
+clinics where he met Therese. The doctor brought her into his consulting
+room, after telling her that the imposing-looking gentleman was a friend
+of the director of the opera, and might be able to recommend her for
+a position on the stage to which she aspired. "Tell him all about
+yourself," he said, "how you live, and what you do, and what you would
+like to do. You will get him interested in you."
+
+So the poor girl retold the story of her life. She spoke in a
+matter-of-fact voice, and when she came to tell how she had been obliged
+to leave her baby in the foundling asylum, she was surprised that
+Monsieur Loches showed horror. "What could I do?" she demanded. "How
+could I have taken care of it?"
+
+"Didn't you ever miss it?" he asked.
+
+"Of course I missed it. But what difference did that make? It would have
+died of hunger with me."
+
+"Still," he said, "it was your child--"
+
+"It was the father's child, too, wasn't it? Much attention he paid to
+it! If I had been sure of getting money enough, I would have put it out
+to nurse. But with the twenty-five or thirty francs a month I could have
+earned as a servant, could I have paid for a baby? That's the situation
+a girl faces--so long as I wanted to remain honest, it was impossible
+for me to keep my child. You answer, perhaps, 'You didn't stay honest
+anyway.' That's true. But then--when you are hungry, and a nice young
+fellow offers you dinner, you'd have to be made of wood to refuse him.
+Of course, if I had had a trade--but I didn't have any. So I went on the
+street--You know how it is."
+
+"Tell us about it," said the doctor. "This gentleman is from the
+country."
+
+"Is that so?" said the girl. "I never supposed there was anyone who
+didn't know about such things. Well, I took the part of a little
+working-girl. A very simple dress--things I had made especially for
+that--a little bundle in a black napkin carried in my hand--so I walked
+along where the shops are. It's tiresome, because to do it right, you
+have to patter along fast. Then I stop before a shop, and nine times out
+of ten, there you are! A funny thing is that the men--you'd imagine
+they had agreed on the words to approach you with. They have only two
+phrases; they never vary them. It's either, 'You are going fast, little
+one.' Or it's, 'Aren't you afraid all alone?' One thing or the other.
+One knows pretty well what they mean. Isn't it so?" The girl paused,
+then went on. "Again, I would get myself up as a young widow. There,
+too, one has to walk fast: I don't know why that should be so, but it
+is. After a minute or two of conversation, they generally find out that
+I am not a young widow, but that doesn't make any difference--they go on
+just the same."
+
+"Who are the men?" asked the deputy. "Clerks? Traveling salesmen?"
+
+"Not much," she responded. "I keep a lookout for gentlemen--like
+yourself."
+
+"They SAY they are gentlemen," he suggested.
+
+"Sometimes I can see it," was the response. "Sometimes they wear orders.
+It's funny--if they have on a ribbon when you first notice them, they
+follow you, and presto--the ribbon is gone! I always laugh over that.
+I've watched them in the glass of the shop windows. They try to look
+unconcerned, but as they walk along they snap out the ribbon with their
+thumb--as one shells little peas, you know."
+
+She paused; then, as no one joined in her laugh, she continued, "Well,
+at last the police got after me, That's a story that I've never been
+able to understand. Those filthy men gave me a nasty disease, and then I
+was to be shut in prison for it! That was a little too much, it seems to
+me."
+
+"Well," said the doctor, grimly, "you revenged yourself on them--from
+what you have told me."
+
+The other laughed. "Oh, yes," she said. "I had my innings." She turned
+to Monsieur Loches. "You want me to tell you that? Well, just on the
+very day I learned that the police were after me, I was coming home
+furious, naturally. It was on the Boulevard St. Denis, if you know the
+place--and whom do you think I met? My old master--the one who got me
+into trouble, you know. There it was, God's own will! I said to myself,
+'Now, my good fellow, here's the time where you pay me what you owe me,
+and with interest, too!' I put on a little smile--oh, it didn't take
+very long, you may be sure!"
+
+The woman paused; her face darkened, and she went on, in a voice
+trembling with agitation: "When I had left him, I was seized with a
+rage. A sort of madness got into my blood. I took on all the men who
+offered themselves, for whatever they offered me, for nothing, if they
+didn't offer me anything. I took as many as I could, the youngest ones
+and the handsomest ones. Just so! I only gave them back what they had
+given to me. And since that time I haven't really cared about anyone any
+more. I just turned it all into a joke." She paused, and then looking
+at the deputy, and reading in his face the horror with which he was
+regarding her, "Oh, I am not the only one!" she exclaimed. "There
+are lots of other women who do the same. To be sure, it is not for
+vengeance--it is because they must have something to eat. For even if
+you have syphilis, you have to eat, don't you? Eh?"
+
+She had turned to the doctor, but he did not answer. There was a long
+silence; and then thinking that his friend, the deputy, had heard enough
+for one session, the doctor rose. He dismissed the woman, the cause of
+all George Dupont's misfortunes, and turning to Monsieur Loches, said:
+"It was on purpose that I brought that wretched prostitute before
+you. In her the whole story is summed up--not merely the story of your
+son-in-law, but that of all the victims of the red plague. That woman
+herself is a victim, and she is a symbol of the evil which we have
+created and which falls upon our own heads again. I could add nothing to
+her story, I only ask you, Monsieur Loches--when next you are proposing
+new laws in the Chamber of Deputies, not to forget the horrors which
+that poor woman has exposed to you!"
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Damaged Goods, by Upton Sinclair and Eugene Brieux
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diff --git a/old/1157.zip b/old/1157.zip
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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Damaged Goods, by Upton Sinclair
+A novelization of the play "Les Avaries, by Eugene Brieux
+#2 in our series by Upton Sinclair
+
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+Damaged Goods
+
+by Upton Sinclair
+
+January, 1998  [Etext #1157]
+
+[Most recently update November 28, 2002]
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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of Damaged Goods, by Upton Sinclair
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+
+Damaged Goods, The Great Play "Les Avaries" of Eugene Brieux
+Novelized by Upton Sinclair
+
+
+
+
+
+Typed by John P. Roberts, III
+
+
+
+
+
+DAMAGED GOODS
+The Great Play "Les Avaries" of Eugene Brieux
+
+Novelized with the approval of the author
+by Upton Sinclair
+
+
+
+
+THE PRODUCTION OF EUGENE BRIEUX'S PLAY, "LES AVARIES," OR,
+TO GIVE IT ITS ENGLISH TITLE, "DAMAGED GOODS," HAS INITIATED A
+MOVEMENT IN THIS COUNTRY WHICH MUST BE REGARDED AS EPOCH-MAKING.
+
+--New York Times
+
+
+
++++Page 4 is a virtually unreadable letter in handwritten
+script from M. Brieux.+++
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+My endeavor has been to tell a simple story, preserving as
+closely as possible the spirit and feeling of the original.  I
+have tried, as it were, to take the play to pieces, and build a
+novel out of the same material.  I have not felt at liberty to
+embellish M. Brieux's ideas, and I have used his dialogue word
+for word wherever possible.  Unless I have mis-read the author,
+his sole purpose in writing LES AVARIES was to place a number of
+most important facts before the minds of the public, and to drive
+them home by means of intense emotion.  If I have been able to
+assist him, this bit of literary carpentering will be worth
+while.  I have to thank M. Brieux for his kind permission to make
+the attempt, and for the cordial spirit which he has manifested.
+
+Upton Sinclair
+
+
+
+PRESS COMMENTS ON THE PLAY
+
+DAMAGED GOODS was first presented in America at a Friday matinee
+on March 14th, 1913, in the Fulton Theater, New York, before
+members of the Sociological Fund.  Immediately it was acclaimed
+by public press and pulpit as the greatest contribution ever made
+by the Stage to the cause of humanity.  Mr. Richard Bennett, the
+producer, who had the courage to present the play, with the aid
+of his co-workers, in the face of most savage criticism from the
+ignorant, was overwhelmed with requests for a repetition of the
+performance.
+
+Before deciding whether of not to present DAMAGED GOODS before
+the general public, it was arranged that the highest officials in
+the United States should pass judgment upon the manner in which
+the play teaches its vital lesson.  A special guest performance
+for members of the Cabinet, members of both houses of Congress,
+members of the United States Supreme Court, representatives of
+the Diplomatic corps and others prominent in national life was
+given in Washington, D.C.
+
+Although the performance was given on a Sunday afternoon (April
+6, 1913), the National Theater was crowded to the very doors with
+the most distinguished audience ever assembled in America,
+including exclusively the foremost men and women of the Capital.
+The most noted clergymen of Washington were among the spectators.
+
+The result of this remarkable performance was a tremendous
+endorsement of the play and of the manner in which Mr. Bennett
+and his co-workers were presenting it.
+
+This reception resulted in the continuance of the New York
+performances until mid-summer and is responsible for the decision
+on the part of Mr. Bennett to offer the play in every city in
+America where citizens feel that the ultimate welfare of the
+community is dependent upon a higher standard of morality and
+clearer understanding of the laws of health.
+
+The WASHINGTON POST, commenting on the Washington performance,
+said:
+
+The play was presented with all the impressiveness of a sermon;
+with all the vigor and dynamic force of a great drama; with all
+the earnestness and power of a vital truth.
+
+In many respects the presentation of this dramatization of a
+great social evil assumed the aspects of a religious service.
+Dr. Donald C. Macleod, pastor of the First Presbyterian Church,
+mounted the rostrum usually occupied by the leader of the
+orchestra, and announced that the nature of the performance, the
+sacredness of the play, and the character of the audience gave to
+the play the significance of a tremendous sermon in behalf of
+mankind, and that as such it was eminently fitting that a divine
+blessing be invoked.  Dr. Earle Wilfley, pastor of the Vermont
+Avenue Christian Church, asked all persons in the audience to bow
+their heads in a prayer for the proper reception of the message
+to be presented from the stage.  Dr. MacLeod then read the
+Bernard Shaw preface to the play, and asked that there be no
+applause during the performance, a suggestion which was rigidly
+followed, thus adding greatly to the effectiveness and the
+seriousness of the dramatic portrayal.
+
+The impression made upon the audience by the remarkable play is
+reflected in such comments as the following expressions voiced
+after the performance:
+
+RABBI SIMON, OF THE WASHINGTON HEBREW CONGREGATION--If I could
+preach from my pulpit a sermon one tenth as powerful, as
+convincing, as far-reaching, and as helpful as this performance
+of DAMAGED GOODS must be, I would consider that I had achieved
+the triumph of my life.
+
+COMMISSIONER CUNO H. RUDOLPH--I was deeply impressed by what I
+saw, and I think that the drama should be repeated in every city,
+a matinee one day for father and son and the next day for mother
+and daughter.
+
+REV. EARLE WILFLEY--I am confirmed in the opinion that we must
+take up our cudgels in a crusade against the modern problems
+brought to the fore by DAMAGED GOODS.  The report that these
+diseases are increasing is enough to make us get busy on a
+campaign against them.
+
+SURGEON GENERAL BLUE--It was a most striking and telling lesson.
+For years we have been fighting these condition in the navy.  It
+is high time that civilians awakened to the dangers surrounding
+them and crusaded against them in a proper manner.
+
+MRS. ARCHIBALD HOPKINS--The play was a powerful presentation of a
+very important question and was handled in a most admirable
+manner.  The drama is a fine entering wedge for this crusade and
+is bound to do considerable good in conveying information of a
+very serious nature.
+
+MINISTER PEZET, OF PERU--There can be no doubt but that the
+performance will have great uplifting power, and accomplish the
+good for which it was created.  Fortunately, we do not have the
+prudery in South America that you of the north possess, and have
+open minds to consider these serious questions.
+
+JUSTICE DANIEL THEW WRIGHT--I feel quite sure that DAMAGED GOODS
+will have considerable effect in educating the people of the
+nature of the danger that surrounds them.
+
+SENATOR KERN, OF INDIANA--There can be no denial of the fact that
+it is time to look at the serious problems presented in the play
+with an open mind.
+
+
+Brieux has been hailed by Bernard Shaw as "incomparably the
+greatest writer France has produced since Moliere," and perhaps
+no writer ever wielded his pen more earnestly in the service of
+the race.  To quote from an article by Edwin E. Slosson in the
+INDEPENDENT:
+
+Brieux is not one who believes that social evils are to be cured
+by laws and yet more laws.  He believes that most of the trouble
+is caused by ignorance and urges education, public enlightenment
+and franker recognition of existing conditions.  All this may be
+needed, but still we may well doubt its effectiveness as a
+remedy.  The drunken Helot argument is not a strong one, and
+those who lead a vicious life know more about its risks than any
+teacher or preacher could tell them.  Brieux also urges the
+requirement of health certificates for marriage, such as many
+clergymen now insist upon and which doubtless will be made
+compulsory before long in many of our States.
+
+Brieux paints in black colors yet is no fanatic; in fact, he will
+be criticised by many as being too tolerant of human weakness.
+The conditions of society and the moral standards of France are
+so different from those of America that his point of view and his
+proposals for reform will not meet with general acceptance, but
+it is encouraging to find a dramatist who realizes the importance
+of being earnest and who uses his art in defense of virtue
+instead of its destruction.
+
+
+Other comments follow, showing the great interest manifested in
+the play and the belief in the highest seriousness of its
+purpose:
+
+There is no uncleanness in facts.  The uncleanness is in the
+glamour, in the secret imagination.  It is in hints, half-truths,
+and suggestions the threat to life lies.
+
+This play puts the horrible truth in so living a way, with such
+clean, artistic force, that the mind is impressed as it could
+possibly be impressed in no other manner.
+
+Best of all, it is the physician who dominates the action.  There
+is no sentimentalizing.  There is no weak and morbid handling of
+the theme.  The doctor appears in his ideal function, as the
+modern high-priest of truth.  Around him writhe the victims of
+ignorance and the criminals of conventional cruelty.  Kind,
+stern, high-minded, clear-headed, yet human-hearted, he towers
+over all, as the master.
+
+This is as it should be.  The man to say the word to save the
+world of ignorant wretches, cursed  by the clouds and darkness a
+mistaken modesty has thrown around a life-and-death instinct, is
+the physician.
+
+The only question is this:  Is this play decent?  My answer is
+that it is the decentest play that has been in New York for a
+year.  It is so decent that it is religious.
+
+--HEARST'S MAGAZINE.
+
+
+The play is, above all, a powerful plea for the tearing away of
+the veil of mystery that has so universally shrouded this subject
+of the penalty of sexual immorality.  It is a plea for light on
+this hidden danger, that fathers and mothers, young men and young
+women, may know the terrible price that must be paid, not only by
+the generation that violates the law, but by the generations to
+come.  It is a serious question just how the education of men and
+women, especially young men and young women, in the vital matters
+of sex relationship should be carried on.  One thing is sure,
+however.  The worst possible way is the one which has so often
+been followed in the past--not to carry it on at all but to
+ignore it.
+
+--THE OUTLOOK.
+
+
+It (DAMAGED GOODS) is, of course, a masterpiece of "thesis
+drama,"--an argument, dogmatic, insistent, inescapable,
+cumulative, between science and common sense, on one side, and
+love, of various types, on the other.  It is what Mr. Bernard
+Shaw has called a "drama of discussion"; it has the splendid
+movement of the best Shaw plays, unrelieved--and undiluted--by
+Shavian paradox, wit, and irony.  We imagine that many audiences
+at the Fulton Theater were astonished at the play's showing of
+sheer strength as acted drama.  Possibly it might not interest
+the general public; probably it would be inadvisable to present
+it to them.  But no thinking person, with the most casual
+interest in current social evils, could listen to the version of
+Richard Bennett, Wilton Lackaye, and their associates, without
+being gripped by the power of Brieux's message.
+
+--THE DIAL.
+
+
+It is a wonder that the world has been so long in getting hold of
+this play, which is one of France's most valuable contributions
+to the drama.  Its history is interesting.  Brieux wrote it over
+ten years ago.  Antoine produced it at his theater and Paris
+immediately censored it, but soon thought better of it and
+removed the ban.  During the summer of 1910 it was played in
+Brussels before crowded houses, for then the city was thronged
+with visitors to the exposition.  Finally New York got it last
+spring and eugenic enthusiasts and doctors everywhere have
+welcomed it.
+
+--THE INDEPENDENT.
+
+
+A letter to Mr. Bennett from Dr. Hills, Pastor of Plymouth
+Church, Brooklyn.
+
+23 Monroe Street
+Bklyn. August 1, 1913.
+
+Mr. Richard Bennett,
+New York City, N.Y.
+My Dear Mr. Bennett:
+
+During the past twenty-one years since I entered public life, I
+have experienced many exciting hours under the influence of
+reformer, orator and actor, but, in this mood of retrospection, I
+do not know that I have ever passed through a more thrilling,
+terrible, and yet hopeful experience than last evening, while I
+listened to your interpretation of Eugene Brieux' "DAMAGED
+GOODS."
+
+I have been following your work with ever deepening interest.  It
+is not too much to say that you have changed the thinking of the
+people of our country as to the social evil.  At last, thank God,
+this conspiracy of silence is ended.  No young man who sees
+"Damaged Goods" will ever be the same again.  If I wanted to
+build around an innocent boy buttresses of fire and granite, and
+lend him triple armour against temptation and the assaults of
+evil, I would put him for one evening under your influence.  That
+which the teacher, the preacher and the parent have failed to
+accomplish it has been given to you to achieve.  You have done a
+work for which your generation owes you an immeasurable debt of
+gratitude.
+
+I shall be delighted to have you use my Study of Social Diseases
+and Heredity in connection with your great reform.
+
+With all good wishes, I am, my dear Mr. Bennett,
+Faithfully yours,
+
+Newell Dwight Hillis
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+It was four o'clock in the morning when George Dupont closed the
+door and came down the steps to the street.  The first faint
+streaks of dawn were in the sky, and he noticed this with
+annoyance, because he knew that his hair was in disarray and his
+whole aspect disorderly; yet he dared not take a cab, because he
+feared to attract attention at home.  When he reached the
+sidewalk, he glanced about him to make sure that no one had seen
+him leave the house, then started down the street, his eyes upon
+the sidewalk before him.
+
+George had the feeling of the morning after.  There are few men
+in this world of abundant sin who will not know what the phrase
+means.  The fumes of the night had evaporated; he was quite sober
+now, quite free from excitement.  He saw what he had done, and it
+seemed to him something black and disgusting.
+
+Never had a walk seemed longer than the few blocks which he had
+to traverse to reach his home.  He must get there before the maid
+was up, before the baker's boy called with the rolls; otherwise,
+what explanation could he give?--he who had always been such a
+moral man, who had been pointed out by mothers as an example to
+their sons.
+
+George thought of his own mother, and what she would think if she
+could know about his night's adventure.  He thought again and
+again, with a pang of anguish, of Henriette.  Could it be
+possible that a man who was engaged, whose marriage contract had
+actually been signed, who was soon to possess the love of a
+beautiful and noble girl--that such a man could have been weak
+enough and base enough to let himself be trapped into such a low
+action?
+
+He went back over the whole series of events, shuddering at them,
+trying to realize how they had happened, trying to excuse himself
+for them.  He had not intended such a culmination; he had never
+meant to do such a thing in his life.  He had not thought of any
+harm when he had accepted the invitation to the supper party with
+his old companions from the law school.  Of course, he had known
+that several of these chums led "fast" lives--but, then, surely a
+fellow could go to a friend's rooms for a lark without harm!
+
+He remembered the girl who had sat by his side at the table.  She
+had come with a friend who was a married woman, and so he had
+assumed that she was all right.  George remembered how
+embarrassed he had been when first he had noticed her glances at
+him.  But then the wine had begun to go to his head--he was one
+of those unfortunate wretches who cannot drink wine at all.  He
+had offered to take the girl home in a cab, and on the way he had
+lost his head.
+
+Oh!  What a wretched thing it was.  He could hardly believe that
+it was he who had spoken those frenzied words; and yet he must
+have spoken them, because he remembered them.  He remembered that
+it had taken a long time to persuade her.  He had had to promise
+her a ring like the one her married friend wore.  Before they
+entered her home she had made him take off his shoes, so that the
+porter might not hear them.  This had struck George particularly,
+because, even flushed with excitement as he was, he had not
+forgotten the warnings his father had given him as to the dangers
+of contact with strange women.  He had thought to himself, "This
+girl must be safe.  It is probably the first time she has ever
+done such a thing."
+
+But now George could get but little consolation out of that idea.
+He was suffering intensely--the emotion described by the poet in
+the bitter words about "Time's moving finger having writ."  His
+mind, seeking some explanation, some justification, went back to
+the events before that night.  With a sudden pang of yearning, he
+thought of Lizette.  She was a decent girl, and had kept him
+decent, and he was lonely without her.  He had been so afraid of
+being found out that he had given her up when he became engaged;
+but now for a while he felt that he would have to break his
+resolution, and pay his regular Sunday visit to the little flat
+in the working-class portion of Paris.
+
+It was while George was fitting himself for the same career as
+his father--that of notary--that he had made the acquaintance of
+the young working girl.  It may not be easy to believe, but
+Lizette had really been a decent girl.  She had a family to take
+care of, and was in need.  There was a grandmother in poor
+health, a father not much better, and three little brothers; so
+Lizette did not very long resist George Dupont, and he felt quite
+virtuous in giving her sufficient money to take care of these
+unfortunate people.  Among people of his class it was considered
+proper to take such things if one paid for them.
+
+All the family of this working girl were grateful to him.  They
+adored him, and they called him Uncle Raoul (for of course he had
+not been so foolish as to give them his true name).
+
+Since George was paying for Lizette, he felt he had the right to
+control her life.  He gave her fair warning concerning his
+attitude.  If she deceived him he would leave her immediately.
+He told this to her relatives also, and so he had them all
+watching her.  She was never trusted out alone.  Every Sunday
+George went to spend the day with his little "family," so that
+his coming became almost a matter of tradition.  He interested
+her in church affairs--mass and vespers were her regular
+occasions for excursions.  George rented two seats, and the
+grandmother went with her to the services.  The simple people
+were proud to see their name engraved upon the brass plate of the
+pew.
+
+The reason for all these precautions was George's terror of
+disease.  He had been warned by his father as to the dangers
+which young men encounter in their amours.  And these lessons had
+sunk deep into George's heart; he had made up his mind that
+whatever his friends might do, he, for one, would protect
+himself.
+
+That did not mean, of course, that he intended to live a virtuous
+life; such was the custom among young men of his class, not had
+it probably ever occurred to his father that it was possible for
+a young man to do such a thing.  The French have a phrase,
+"l'homme moyen sensuel"--the average sensual man.  And George was
+such a man.  He had no noble idealisms, no particular reverence
+for women.  The basis of his attitude was a purely selfish one;
+he wanted to enjoy himself, and at the same time to keep out of
+trouble.
+
+He did not find any happiness in the renunciation which he
+imposed upon himself; he had no religious ideas about it.  On the
+contrary, he suffered keenly, and was bitter because he had no
+share in the amusements of his friends.  He stuck to his work and
+forced himself to keep regular hours, preparing for his law
+examinations.  But all the time he was longing for adventures.
+And, of course, this could not go on forever, for the motive of
+fear alone is not sufficient to subdue the sexual urge in a full-
+blooded young man.
+
+The affair with Lizette might have continued much longer had it
+not been for the fact that his father died.  He died quite
+suddenly, while George was away on a trip.  The son came back to
+console his broken-hearted mother, and in the two week they spent
+in the country together the mother broached a plan to him.  The
+last wish of the dying man had been that his son should be fixed
+in life.  In the midst of his intense suffering he had been able
+to think about the matter, and had named the girl whom he wished
+George to marry.  Naturally, George waited with some interest to
+learn who this might be.  He was surprised when his mother told
+him that it was his cousin, Henriette Loches.
+
+He could not keep his emotion from revealing itself in his face.
+"It doesn't please you?" asked his mother, with a tone
+disappointment.
+
+"Why no, mother," he answered.  "It's not that.  It just
+surprises me."
+
+"But why?" asked the mother.  "Henriette is a lovely girl and a
+good girl."
+
+"Yes, I know," said George; "but then she is my cousin, and--"
+He blushed a little with embarrassment.  "I had never thought of
+her in that way."
+
+Madame Dupont laid her hand upon her son's.  "Yes, George," she
+said tenderly.  "I know.  You are such a good boy."
+
+Now, of course, George did not feel that he was quite such a good
+boy; but his mother was a deeply religious woman, who had no idea
+of the truth about the majority of men.  She would never have got
+over the shock if he had told her about himself, and so he had to
+pretend to be just what she thought him.
+
+"Tell me," she continued, after a pause, "have you never felt the
+least bit in love?"
+
+"Why no--I don't think so," George stammered, becoming conscious
+of a sudden rise of temperature in his cheeks.
+
+"Because," said his mother, "it is really time that you were
+settled in life.  Your father said that we should have seen to it
+before, and now it is my duty to see to it.  It is not good for
+you to live alone so long."
+
+"But, mother, I have YOU," said George generously.
+
+"Some day the Lord may take me away," was the reply.  "I am
+getting old.  And, George, dear--"  Here suddenly her voice began
+to tremble with feeling-- "I would like to see my baby
+grandchildren before I go.  You cannot imagine what it would mean
+to me."
+
+Madame Dupont saw how much this subject distressed her son, so
+she went on to the more worldly aspects of the matter.
+Henriette's father was well-to-do, and he would give her a good
+dowry.  She was a charming and accomplished girl.  Everybody
+would consider him most fortunate if the match could be arranged.
+Also, there was an elderly aunt to whom Madame Dupont had spoken,
+and who was much taken with the idea.  She owned a great deal of
+property and would surely help the young couple.
+
+George did not see just how he could object to this proposition,
+even if he had wanted to.  What reason could he give for such a
+course?  He could not explain that he already had a family--with
+stepchildren, so to speak, who adored him.  And what could he say
+to his mother's obsession, to which she came back again and
+again--her longing to see her grandchildren before she died?
+Madame Dupont waited only long enough for George to stammer out a
+few protestations, and then in the next breath to take them back;
+after which she proceeded to go ahead with the match.  The family
+lawyers conferred together, and the terms of the settlement were
+worked out and agreed upon.  It happened that immediately
+afterwards George learned of an opportunity to purchase the
+practice of a notary, who was ready to retire from business in
+two months' time.  Henriette's father consented to advance a
+portion of her dowry for this purpose.
+
+Thus George was safely started upon the same career as his
+father, and this was to him a source of satisfaction which he did
+not attempt to deny, either to himself of to any one else.
+George was a cautious young man, who came of a frugal and saving
+stock.  He had always been taught that it was his primary duty to
+make certain of a reasonable amount of comfort.  From his
+earliest days, he had been taught to regard material success as
+the greatest goal in life, and he would never have dreamed of
+engaging himself to a girl without money.  But when he had the
+good fortune to meet one who possessed desirable personal
+qualities in addition to money, he was not in the least barred
+from appreciating those qualities.  They were, so to speak, the
+sauce which went with the meat, and it seemed to him that in this
+case the sauce was of the very best.
+
+George--a big fellow of twenty-six, with large, round eyes and a
+good-natured countenance--was full blooded, well fed, with a
+hearty laugh which spoke of unimpaired contentment, a soul
+untroubled in its deeps.  He seemed to himself the luckiest
+fellow in the whole round world; he could not think what he had
+done to deserve the good fortune of possessing such a girl as
+Henriette.  He was ordinarily of a somewhat sentimental turn--
+easily influenced by women and sensitive to their charms.
+Moreover, his relationship with Lizette had softened him.  He had
+learned to love the young working girl, and now Henriette, it
+seemed, was to reap the benefit of his experience with her.
+
+In fact, he found himself always with memories of Lizette in his
+relationships with the girl who was to be his wife.  When the
+engagement was announced, and he claimed his first kiss from his
+bride-to-be, as he placed a ring upon her finger, he remembered
+the first time he had kissed Lizette, and a double blush suffused
+his round countenance.  When he walked arm and arm with Henriette
+in the garden he remembered how he had walked just so with the
+other girl, and he was interested to compare the words of the
+two.  He remembered what a good time had had when he had taken
+Lizette and her little family for a picnic upon one of the
+excursion steamers which run down the River Seine.  Immediately
+he decided that he would like to take Henriette on such a picnic,
+and he persuaded an aunt of Henriette's to go with her as a
+chaperon.  George took his bride-to-be to the same little inn
+where he had lunch before.
+
+Thus he was always haunted by memories, some of which made him
+cheerful and some of which made him mildly sad.  He soon got used
+to the idea, and did not find it awkward, except when he had to
+suppress the impulse to tell Henriette something which Lizette
+had said, or some funny incident which had happened in the home
+of the little family.  Sometimes he found himself thinking that
+it was a shame to have to suppress these impulses.  There must be
+something wrong, he thought, with a social system which made it
+necessary for him to hide a thing which was so obvious and so
+sensible.  Here he was, a man twenty-six years of age; he could
+not have afforded to marry earlier, nor could he, as he thought,
+have been expected to lead a continent life.  And he had really
+loved Lizette; she was really a good girl.  Yet, if Henriette had
+got any idea of it, she would have been horrified and indignant--
+she might even have broken off the engagement.
+
+And then, too, there was Henriette's father, a personage of great
+dignity and importance.  M. Loches was a deputy of the French
+Parliament, from a district in the provinces.  He was a man of
+upright life, and a man who made a great deal of that upright
+life--keeping it on a pedestal where everyone might observe it.
+It was impossible to imagine M. Loches in an undignified or
+compromising situation--such as the younger man found himself
+facing in the matter of Lizette.
+
+The more he thought about it the more nervous and anxious George
+became.  Then it was decided it would be necessary for him to
+break with the girl, and be "good" until the time of his
+marriage.  Dear little soft-eyed Lizette--he did not dare to face
+her personally; he could never bear to say good-by, he felt.
+Instead, he went to the father, who as a man could be expected to
+understand the situation.  George was embarrassed and not a
+little nervous about it; for although he had never misrepresented
+his attitude to the family, one could never feel entirely free
+from the possibility of blackmail in such cases.  However,
+Lizette's father behaved decently, and was duly grateful for the
+moderate sum of money which George handed him in parting.  He
+promised to break the news gently to Lizette, and George went
+away with his mind made up that he would never see her again.
+
+This resolution he kept, and he considered himself very virtuous
+in doing it.  But the truth was that he had grown used to
+intimacy with a woman, and was restless without it.  And that, he
+told himself, was why he yielded to the shameful temptation the
+night of that fatal supper party.
+
+He paid for the misadventure liberally in remorse.  He felt that
+he had been a wretch, that he had disgraced himself forever, that
+he had proved himself unworthy of the pure girl he was to marry.
+So keen was his feeling that it was several days before he could
+bring himself to see Henriette again; and when he went, it was
+with a mind filled with a brand-new set of resolutions.  It was
+the last time that he would ever fall into error.  He would be a
+new man from then on.  He thanked God that there was no chance of
+his sin being known, that he might have an opportunity to prove
+his new determination.
+
+So intense were his feelings that he could not help betraying a
+part of them to Henriette.  They sat in the garden one soft
+summer evening, with Henriette's mother occupied with her
+crocheting at a decorous distance.  George, in reverent and
+humble mood, began to drop vague hints that he was really
+unworthy of his bride-to-be.  He said that he had not always been
+as good as he should have been; he said that her purity and
+sweetness had awakened in him new ideals; so that he felt his old
+life had been full of blunders.  Henriette, of course, had but
+the vaguest of ideas as to what the blunders of a tender and
+generous young man like George might be.  So she only loved him
+the more for his humility, and was flattered to have such a fine
+effect upon him, to awaken in him such moods of exaltation.  When
+he told her that all men were bad, and that no man was worthy of
+such a beautiful love, she was quite ravished, and wiped away
+tears from her eyes.
+
+It would have been a shame to spoil such a heavenly mood by
+telling the real truth.  Instead, George contented himself with
+telling of the new resolutions he had formed.  After all, they
+were the things which really mattered; for Henriette was going to
+live with his future, not with his past.
+
+It seemed to George a most wonderful thing, this innocence of a
+young girl, which enabled her to move through a world of
+wickedness with unpolluted mind.  It was a touching thing; and
+also, as a prudent young man could not help realizing, a most
+convenient thing.  He realized the importance of preserving it,
+and thought that if he ever had a daughter, he would protect her
+as rigidly as Henriette had been protected.  He made haste to shy
+off from the subject of his "badness" and to turn the
+conversation with what seemed a clever jest.
+
+"If I am going to be so good," he said, "don't forget that you
+will have to be good also!"
+
+"I will try," said Henriette, who was still serious.
+
+"You will have to try hard," he persisted.  "You will find that
+you have a very jealous husband."
+
+"Will I?" said Henriette, beaming with happiness--for when a
+woman is very much in love she doesn't in the least object to the
+man's being jealous.
+
+"Yes, indeed," smiled George.  "I'll always be watching you."
+
+"Watching me?" echoed the girl with a surprised look.
+
+And immediately he felt ashamed of himself for his jest.  There
+could be no need to watch Henriette, and it was bad taste even to
+joke about it at such a time.  That was one of the ideas which he
+had brought with him from his world of evil.
+
+The truth was, however, that George would always be a suspicious
+husband; nothing could ever change that fact, for there was
+something in his own conscience which he could not get out, and
+which would make it impossible for him to be at ease as a married
+man.  It was the memory of something which had happened earlier
+in his life before he met Lizette.  There had been one earlier
+experience, with the wife of his dearest friend.  She had been
+much younger than her husband, and had betrayed an interest in
+George, who had yielded to the temptation.  For several years the
+intrigue continued, and George considered it a good solution of a
+young man's problem.  There had been no danger of contamination,
+for he knew that his friend was a man of pure and rigid morals, a
+jealous man who watched his wife, and did not permit her to
+contract those new relations which are always dangerous.  As for
+George, he helped in this worthy work, keeping the woman in
+terror of some disease.  He told her that almost all men were
+infected, for he hoped by this means to keep her from deceiving
+him.
+
+I am aware that this may seem a dreadful story.  As I do not want
+anyone to think too ill of George Dupont, I ought, perhaps, to
+point out that people feel differently about these matters in
+France.  In judging the unfortunate young man, we must judge him
+by the customs of his own country, and not by ours.  In France,
+they are accustomed to what is called the MARIAGE DE CONVENANCE.
+The young girl is not permitted to go about and make her own
+friends and decide which one of them she prefers for her husband;
+on the contrary, she is strictly guarded, her training often is
+of a religious nature, and her marriage is a matter of business,
+to be considered and decided by her parents and those of the
+young man.  Now, whatever we may think right, it is humanly
+certain that where marriages are made in that way, the need of
+men and women for sympathy and for passionate interest will often
+lead to the forming of irregular relationships after marriage.
+It is not possible to present statistics as to the number of such
+irregular relationships in Parisian society; but in the books
+which he read and in the plays which he saw, George found
+everything to encourage him to think that it was a romantic and
+delightful thing to keep up a secret intrigue with the wife of
+his best friend.
+
+It should also, perhaps, be pointed out that we are here telling
+the truth, and the whole truth, about George Dupont; and that it
+is not customary to tell this about men, either in real life or
+in novels.  There is a great deal of concealment in the world
+about matters of sex; and in such matters the truth-telling man
+is apt to suffer in reputation in comparison with the truth-
+concealing one.
+
+Nor had George really been altogether callous about the thing.
+It had happened that his best friend had died in his arms; and
+this had so affected the guilty pair that they had felt their
+relationship was no longer possible.  She had withdrawn to nurse
+her grief alone, and George had been so deeply affected that he
+had avoided affairs and entanglements with women until his
+meeting with Lizette.
+
+All this was now in the far distant past, but it had made a
+deeper impression upon George than he perhaps realized, and it
+was now working in his mind and marring his happiness.  Here was
+a girl who loved him with a noble and unselfish and whole-hearted
+love--and yet he would never be able to trust her as she
+deserved, but would always have suspicions lurking in the back of
+his mind.  He would be unable to have his friends intimate in his
+home, because of the memory of what he had once done to a friend.
+It was a subtle kind of punishment.  But so it is that Nature
+often finds ways of punishing us, without our even being aware of
+it.
+
+That was all for the future, however.  At present, George was
+happy.  He put his black sin behind him, feeling that he had
+obtained absolution by his confession to Henriette.  Day by day,
+as he realized his good fortune, his round face beamed with more
+and yet more joy.
+
+He went for a little trip to Henriette's home in the country.  It
+was a simple village, and they took walks in the country, and
+stopped to refresh themselves at a farmhouse occupied by one of
+M. Loches' tenants.  Here was a rosy and buxom peasant woman,
+with a nursing child in her arms.  She was destined a couple of
+years later to be the foster-mother of Henriette's little girl
+and to play an important part in her life.  But the pair had no
+idea of that at present.  They simply saw a proud and happy
+mother, and Henriette played with the baby, giving vent to
+childish delight.  Then suddenly she looked up and saw that
+George was watching her, and as she read his thoughts a beautiful
+blush suffused her cheeks.
+
+As for George, he turned away and went out under the blue sky in
+a kind of ecstasy.  Life seemed very wonderful to him just then;
+he had found its supreme happiness, which was love.  He was
+really getting quite mad about Henriette, he told himself.  He
+could hardly believe that the day was coming when he would be
+able to clasp her in his arms.
+
+But in the blue sky of George's happiness there was one little
+cloud of storm.  As often happens with storm-clouds, it was so
+small that at first he paid no attention to it at all.
+
+He noted upon his body one day a tiny ulcer.  At first he treated
+it with salve purchased from an apothecary.  Then after a week or
+two, when this had no effect, he began to feel uncomfortable.  He
+remembered suddenly he had heard about the symptoms of an
+unmentionable, dreadful disease, and a vague terror took
+possession of him.
+
+For days he tried to put it to one side.  The idea was nonsense,
+it was absurd in connection with a woman so respectable!  But the
+thought would not be put away, and finally he went to a school
+friend, who was a man of the world, and got him to talk on the
+subject.  Of course, George had to be careful, so that his friend
+should not suspect that he had any special purpose in mind.
+
+The friend was willing to talk.  It was a vile disease, he said;
+but one was foolish to bother about it, because it was so rare.
+There were other diseases which fellows got, which nearly every
+fellow had, and to which none of them paid any attention.  But
+one seldom met anyone who had the red plague that George dreaded.
+
+"And yet," he added, "according to the books, it isn't so
+uncommon.  I suppose the truth is that people hide it.  A chap
+naturally wouldn't tell, when he knew it would damn him for
+life."
+
+George had a sick sensation inside of him.  "Is it as bad as
+that?" he asked.
+
+"Of course," said the other, "Should you want to have anything to
+do with a person who had it?  Should you be willing to room with
+him or travel with him?  You wouldn't even want to shake hands
+with him!"
+
+"No, I suppose not," said George, feebly.
+
+"I remember," continued the other, "an old fellow who used to
+live out in the country near me.  He was not so very old, either,
+but he looked it.  He had to be pushed around in a wheel-chair.
+People said he had locomotor ataxia, but that really meant
+syphilis.  We boys used to poke all kinds of fun at him because
+one windy day his hat and his wig were blown off together, and we
+discovered that he was as bald as an egg.  We used to make jokes
+about his automobile, as we called it.  It had a little handle in
+front, instead of a steering-wheel, and a man behind to push,
+instead of an engine."
+
+"How horrible!" remarked George with genuine feeling.
+
+"I remember the poor devil had a paralysis soon after," continued
+the friend, quite carelessly.  "He could not steer any more, and
+also he lost his voice.  When you met him he would look at you as
+it he thought he was talking, but all he could say was
+'Ga-ga-ga'."
+
+George went away from this conversation in a cold sweat.  He told
+himself over and over again that he was a fool, but still he
+could not get the hellish idea out of his mind.  He found himself
+brooding over it all day and lying awake at night, haunted by
+images of himself in a wheel-chair, and without any hair on his
+head.  He realized that the sensible thing would be for him to go
+to a doctor and make certain about his condition; but he could
+not bring himself to face the ordeal--he was ashamed to admit to
+a doctor that he had laid himself open to such a taint.
+
+He began to lose the radiant expression from his round and rosy
+face.  He had less appetite, and his moods of depression became
+so frequent that he could not hide then even from Henriette.  She
+asked him once or twice if there were not something the matter
+with him, and he laughed--a forced and hurried laugh--and told
+her that he had sat up too late the night before, worrying over
+the matter of his examinations.  Oh, what a cruel thing it was
+that a man who stood in the very gateway of such a garden of
+delight should be tormented and made miserable by this loathsome
+idea!
+
+The disturbing symptom still continued, and so at last George
+purchased a medical book, dealing with the subject of the
+disease.  Then, indeed, he opened up a chamber of horrors; he
+made up his mind an abiding place of ghastly images.  In the book
+there were pictures of things so awful that he turned white, and
+trembled like a leaf, and had to close the volume and hide it in
+the bottom of his trunk.  But he could not banish the pictures
+from his mind.  Worst of all, he could not forget the description
+of the first symptom of the disease, which seemed to correspond
+exactly with his own.  So at last he made up his mind he must
+ascertain definitely the truth about his condition.
+
+He began to think over plans for seeing a doctor.  He had heard
+somewhere a story about a young fellow who had fallen into the
+hands of a quack, and been ruined forever.  So he decided that he
+would consult only the best authority.
+
+He got the names of the best-known works on the subject from a
+bookstore, and found that the author of one of these books was
+practicing in Paris as a specialist.  Two or three days elapsed
+before he was able to get up the courage to call on this doctor.
+And oh, the shame and horror of sitting in his waiting-room with
+the other people, none of whom dared to look each other in the
+eyes!  They must all be afflicted, George thought, and he glanced
+at them furtively, looking for the various symptoms of which he
+had read.  Or were there, perhaps, some like himself--merely
+victims of a foolish error, coming to have the hag of dread
+pulled from off their backs?
+
+And then suddenly, while he was speculating, there stood the
+doctor, signaling to him.  His turn had come!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+The doctor was a man about forty years of age, robust, with every
+appearance of a strong character.  In the buttonhole of the frock
+coat he wore was a red rosette, the decoration of some order.
+Confused and nervous as George was, he got a vague impression of
+the physician's richly furnished office, with its bronzes,
+marbles and tapestries.
+
+The doctor signaled to the young man to be seated in the chair
+before his desk.  George complied, and then, as he wiped away the
+perspiration from his forehead, stammered out a few words,
+explaining his errand.  Of course, he said, it could not be true,
+but it was a man's duty not to take any chances in such a matter.
+"I have not been a man of loose life," he added; "I have not
+taken so many chances as other men."
+
+The doctor cut him short with the brief remark that one chance
+was all that was necessary.  Instead of discussing such
+questions, he would make an examination.  "We do not say
+positively in these cases until we have made a blood test.  That
+is the one way to avoid the possibility of mistake."
+
+A drop of blood was squeezed out of George's finger on to a
+little glass plate.  The doctor retired to an adjoining room, and
+the victim sat alone in the office, deriving no enjoyment from
+the works of art which surrounded him, but feeling like a
+prisoner who sits in the dock with his life at stake while the
+jury deliberates.
+
+The doctor returned, calm and impassive, and seated himself in
+his office-chair.
+
+"Well, doctor?" asked George.  He was trembling with terror.
+
+"Well," was the reply, "there is no doubt whatever."
+
+George wiped his forehead.  He could not credit the words.  "No
+doubt whatever?  In what sense?"
+
+"In the bad sense," said the other.
+
+He began to write a prescription, without seeming to notice how
+George turned page with terror.  "Come," he said, after a
+silence, "you must have known the truth pretty well."
+
+"No, no, sir!" exclaimed George.
+
+"Well," said the other, "you have syphilis."
+
+George was utterly stunned.  "My God!" he exclaimed.
+
+The doctor, having finished his prescription, looked up and
+observed his condition.  "Don't trouble yourself, sir.  Out of
+every seven men you meet upon the street, in society, or at the
+theater, there is at least one who has been in your condition.
+One out of seven--fifteen per cent!"
+
+George was staring before him.  He spoke low, as if to himself.
+"I know what I am going to do."
+
+"And I know also," said the doctor, with a smile.  "There is your
+prescription.  You are going to take it to the drugstore and have
+it put up."
+
+George took the prescription, mechanically, but whispered, "No,
+sir."
+
+"Yes, sir, you are going to do as everybody else does."
+
+"No, because my situation is not that of everybody else.  I know
+what I am going to do."
+
+Said the doctor:  "Five times out of ten, in the chair where you
+are sitting, people talk like that, perfectly sincerely.  Each
+one believes himself more unhappy than all the others; but after
+thinking it over, and listening to me, they understand that this
+disease is a companion with whom one can live.  Just as in every
+household, one gets along at the cost of mutual concessions,
+that's all.  Come, sir, I tell you again, there is nothing about
+it that is not perfectly ordinary, perfectly natural, perfectly
+common; it is an accident which can happen to any one.  It is a
+great mistake that people speak if this as the 'French Disease,'
+for there is none which is more universal.  Under the picture of
+this disease, addressing myself to those who follow the oldest
+profession in the world, I would write the famous phrase:  'Here
+is your master.  It is, it was, or it must be.'"
+
+George was putting the prescription into the outside pocket of
+his coat, stupidly, as if he did not know what he was doing.
+"But, sir," he exclaimed, "I should have been spared!"
+
+"Why?" inquired the other.  "Because you are a man of position,
+because you are rich?  Look around you, sir.  See these works of
+art in my room.  Do you imagine that such things have been
+presented to me by chimney-sweeps?"
+
+"But, Doctor," cried George, with a moan, "I have never been a
+libertine.  There was never any one, you understand me, never any
+one could have been more careful in his pleasures.  If I were to
+tell you that in all my life I have only had two mistresses, what
+would you answer to that?"
+
+"I would answer, that a single one would have been sufficient to
+bring you to me."
+
+"No, sir!" cried George.  "It could not have been either of those
+women."  He went on to tell the doctor about his first mistress,
+and then about Lizette.  Finally he told about Henriette, how
+much he adored her.  He could really use such a word--he loved
+her most tenderly.  She was so good--and he had thought himself
+so lucky!
+
+As he went on, he could hardly keep from going to pieces.  "I had
+everything," he exclaimed, "everything a man needed!  All who
+knew me envied me.  And then I had to let those fellows drag me
+off to that miserable supper-party!  And now here I am!  My
+future is ruined, my whole existence poisoned!  What is to become
+of me?  Everybody will avoid me--I shall be a pariah, a leper!"
+
+He paused, and then in sudden wild grief exclaimed, "Come, now!
+Would it not be better that I should take myself out of the way?
+At least, I should not suffer any more.  You see that there could
+not be any one more unhappy than myself--not any one, I tell you,
+sir, not any one!"  Completely overcome, he began to weep in his
+handkerchief.
+
+The doctor got up, and went to him.  "You must be a man," he
+said, "and not cry like a child."
+
+"But sir," cried the young man, with tears running down his
+cheeks, "if I had led a wild life, if I had passed my time in
+dissipation with chorus girls, then I could understand it.  Then
+I would say that I had deserved it."
+
+The doctor exclaimed with emphasis, "No, no!  You would not say
+it.  However, it is of no matter--go on."
+
+"I tell you that I would say it.  I am honest, and I would say
+that I had deserved it.  But no, I have worked, I have been a
+regular grind.  And now, when I think of the shame that is in
+store for me, the disgusting things, the frightful catastrophes
+to which I am condemned--"
+
+"What is all this you are telling me?" asked the doctor,
+laughing.
+
+"Oh, I know, I know!" cried the other, and repeated what his
+friend had told him about the man in a wheel-chair.  "And they
+used to call me handsome Raoul!  That was my name--handsome
+Raoul!"
+
+"Now, my dear sir," said the doctor, cheerfully, "wipe your eyes
+one last time, blow your nose, put your handkerchief into your
+pocket, and hear me dry-eyed."
+
+George obeyed mechanically.  "But I give you fair warning," he
+said, "you are wasting your time."
+
+"I tell you--" began the other.
+
+"I know exactly what you are going to tell me!" cried George.
+
+"Well, in that case, there is nothing  more for you to do here--
+run along."
+
+"Since I am here," said the patient submissively, "I will hear
+you."
+
+"Very well, then.  I tell you that if you have the will and the
+perseverance, none of the things you fear will happen to you."
+
+"Of course, it is your duty to tell me that."
+
+"I will tell you that there are one hundred thousand like you in
+Paris, alert, and seemingly well.  Come, take what you were just
+saying--wheel-chairs.  One doesn't see so many of them."
+
+"No, that's true," said George.
+
+"And besides," added the doctor, "a good many people who ride in
+them are not there for the cause you think.  There is no more
+reason why you should be the victim of a catastrophe than any of
+the one hundred thousand.  The disease is serious, nothing more."
+
+"You admit that it is a serious disease?" argued George.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"One of the most serious?"
+
+"Yes, but you have the good fortune--"
+
+"The GOOD fortune?"
+
+"Relatively, if you please.  You have the good fortune to be
+infected with one of the diseases over which we have the most
+certain control."
+
+"Yes, yes," exclaimed George, "but the remedies are worse than
+the disease."
+
+"You deceive yourself," replied the other.
+
+"You are trying to make me believe that I can be cured?"
+
+"You can be."
+
+"And that I am not condemned?"
+
+"I swear it to you."
+
+"You are not deceiving yourself, you are not deceiving me?  Why,
+I was told--"
+
+The doctor laughed, contemptuously.  "You were told, you were
+told!  I'll wager that you know the laws of the Chinese
+concerning party-walls."
+
+"Yes, naturally," said George.  "But I don't see what they have
+to do with it."
+
+"Instead of teaching you such things," was the reply, "it would
+have been a great deal better to have taught you about the nature
+and cause of diseases of this sort.  Then you would have known
+how to avoid the contagion.  Such knowledge should be spread
+abroad, for it is the most important knowledge in the world.  It
+should be found in every newspaper."
+
+This remark gave George something of a shock, for his father had
+owned a little paper in the provinces, and he had a sudden vision
+of the way subscribers would have fallen off, if he had printed
+even so much as the name of this vile disease.
+
+"And yet," pursued the doctor, "you publish romances about
+adultery!"
+
+"Yes," said George, "that's what the readers want."
+
+"They don't want the truth about venereal diseases," exclaimed
+the other.  "If they knew the full truth, they would no longer
+think that adultery was romantic and interesting."
+
+He went on to give his advice as to the means of avoiding such
+diseases.  There was really but one rule.  It was:  To love but
+one woman, to take her as a virgin, and to love her so much that
+she would never deceive you.  "Take that from me," added the
+doctor, "and teach it to your son, when you have one."
+
+George's attention was caught by this last sentence.
+
+"You mean that I shall be able to have children?" he cried.
+
+"Certainly," was the reply.
+
+"Healthy children?"
+
+"I repeat it to you; if you take care of yourself properly for a
+long time, conscientiously, you have little to fear."
+
+"That's certain?"
+
+"Ninety-nine times out of a hundred."
+
+George felt as if he had suddenly emerged from a dungeon.  "Why,
+then," he exclaimed, "I shall be able to marry!"
+
+"You will be able to marry," was the reply.
+
+"You are not deceiving me?  You would not give me that hope, you
+would not expose me?  How soon will I be able to marry?"
+
+"In three or four years," said the doctor.
+
+"What!" cried George in consternation.  "In three or four years?
+Not before?"
+
+"Not before."
+
+"How is that?  Am I going to be sick all that time?  Why, you
+told me just now--"
+
+Said the doctor:  "The disease will no longer be dangerous to
+you, yourself--but you will be dangerous to others."
+
+"But," the young man cried, in despair, "I am to be married a
+month from now."
+
+"That is impossible."
+
+"But I cannot do any differently.  The contract is ready!  The
+banns have been published!  I have given my word!"
+
+"Well, you are a great one!" the doctor laughed.  "Just now you
+were looking for your revolver!  Now you want to be married
+within the month."
+
+"But, Doctor, it is necessary!"
+
+"But I forbid it."
+
+"As soon as I knew that the disease is not what I imagined, and
+that I could be cured, naturally I didn't want to commit suicide.
+And as soon as I make up my mind not to commit suicide, I have to
+take up my regular life.  I have to keep my engagements; I have
+to get married."
+
+"No," said the doctor.
+
+"Yes, yes!" persisted George, with blind obstinacy.  "Why,
+Doctor, if I didn't marry it would be a disaster.  You are
+talking about something you don't understand.  I, for my part--it
+is not that I am anxious to be married.  As I told you, I had
+almost a second family.  Lizette's little brothers adored me.
+But it is my aunt, an old maid; and, also, my mother is crazy
+about the idea.  If I were to back out now, she would die of
+chagrin.  My aunt would disinherit me, and she is the one who has
+the family fortune.  Then, too, there is my father-in-law, a
+regular dragoon for his principles--severe, violent.  He never
+makes a joke of serious things, and I tell you it would cost me
+dear, terribly dear.  And, besides, I have given my word."
+
+"You must take back your word."
+
+"You still insist?" exclaimed George, in despair.  "But then,
+suppose that it were possible, how could I take back my signature
+which I put at the bottom of the deed?  I have pledged myself to
+pay in two months for the attorney's practice I have purchased!"
+
+"Sir," said the doctor, "all these things--"
+
+"You are going to tell me that I was lacking in prudence, that I
+should never have disposed of my wife's dowry until after the
+honeymoon!"
+
+"Sir," said the doctor, again, "all these considerations are
+foreign to me.  I am a physician, and nothing but a physician,
+and I can only tell you this:  If you marry before three or four
+years, you will be a criminal."
+
+George broke out with a wild exclamation.  "No sir, you are not
+merely a physician!  You are also a confessor!  You are not
+merely a scientist; and it is not enough for you that you observe
+me as you would some lifeless thing in your laboratory, and say,
+'You have this; science says that; now go along with you.'  All
+my existence depends upon you.  It is your duty to listen to me,
+because when you know everything you will understand me, and you
+will find some way to cure me within a month."
+
+"But," protested the doctor, "I wear myself out telling you that
+such means do not exist.  I shall not be certain of your cure, as
+much as any one can be certain, in less than three or four
+years."
+
+George was almost beside himself.  "I tell you you must find some
+means!  Listen to me, sir--if I don't get married I don't get the
+dowry!  And will you tell me how I can pay the notes I have
+signed?"
+
+"Oh," said the doctor, dryly, "if that is the question, it is
+very simple--I will give you a plan to get out of the affair.
+You will go and get acquainted with some rich man; you will do
+everything you can to gain his confidence; and when you have
+succeeded, you will plunder him."
+
+George shook his head.  "I am not in any mood for joking."
+
+"I am not joking," replied his adviser.  "Rob that man,
+assassinate him even--that would be no worse crime than you would
+commit in taking a young girl in good health in order to get a
+portion of her dowry, when at the same time you would have to
+expose her to the frightful consequences of the disease which you
+would give her."
+
+"Frightful consequences?" echoed George.
+
+"Consequences of which death would not be the most frightful."
+
+"But, sir, you were saying to me just now--"
+
+"Just now I did not tell you everything.  Even reduced,
+suppressed a little by our remedies, the disease remains
+mysterious, menacing, and in its sum, sufficiently grave.  So it
+would be an infamy to expose your fiancee in order to avoid an
+inconvenience, however great that might be."
+
+But George was still not to be convinced.  Was it certain that
+this misfortune would befall Henriette, even with the best
+attention?
+
+Said the other:  "I do not wish to lie to you.  No, it is not
+absolutely certain, it is probable.  And there is another truth
+which I wish to tell you now:  our remedies are not infallible.
+In a certain number of cases--a very small number, scarcely five
+per cent--they have remained without effect.  You might be one of
+those exceptions, your wife might be one.  What then?"
+
+"I will employ a word you used just now, yourself.  We should
+have to expect the worst catastrophes."
+
+George sat in a state of complete despair.
+
+"Tell me what to do, then," he said.
+
+"I can tell you only one thing:  don't marry.  You have a most
+serious blemish.  It is as if you owed a debt.  Perhaps no one
+will ever come to claim it; on the other hand, perhaps a pitiless
+creditor will come all at once, presenting a brutal demand for
+immediate payment.  Come now--you are a business man.  Marriage
+is a contract; to marry without saying anything--that means to
+enter into a bargain by means of passive dissimulation.  That's
+the term, is it not?  It is dishonesty, and it ought to come
+under the law."
+
+George, being a lawyer, could appreciate the argument, and could
+think of nothing to say to it.
+
+"What shall I do?" he asked.
+
+The other answered, "Go to your father-in-law and tell him
+frankly the truth."
+
+"But," cried the young man, wildly, "there will be no question
+then of three or four years' delay.  He will refuse his consent
+altogether."
+
+"If that is the case," said the doctor, "don't tell him anything."
+
+"But I have to give him a reason, or I don't know what he will
+do.  He is the sort of man to give himself to the worst violence,
+and again my fiancee would be lost to me.  Listen, doctor.  From
+everything I have said to you, you may perhaps think I am a
+mercenary man.  It is true that I want to get along in the world,
+that is only natural.  But Henriette has such qualities; she is
+so much better than I, that I love her, really, as people love in
+novels.  My greatest grief--it is not to give up the practice I
+have bought--although, indeed, it would be a bitter blow to me;
+my greatest grief would be to lose Henriette.  If you could only
+see her, if you only knew her--then you would understand.  I have
+her picture here--"
+
+The young fellow took out his card-case. And offered a photograph
+to the doctor, who gently refused it.  The other blushed with
+embarrassment.
+
+"I beg your pardon," he said, "I am ridiculous.  That happens to
+me, sometimes.  Only, put yourself in my place--I love her so!"
+His voice broke.
+
+"My dear boy," said the doctor, feelingly, "that is exactly why
+you ought not to marry her."
+
+"But," he cried, "if I back out without saying anything they will
+guess the truth, and I shall be dishonored."
+
+"One is not dishonored because one is ill."
+
+"But with such a disease!  People are so stupid.  I myself,
+yesterday--I should have laughed at anyone who had got into such
+a plight; I should have avoided him, I should have despised him!"
+And suddenly George broke down again.  "Oh!" he cried, "if I were
+the only one to suffer; but she--she is in love with me.  I swear
+it to you!  She is so good; and she will be so unhappy!"
+
+The doctor answered, "She would be unhappier later on."
+
+"It will be a scandal!" George exclaimed.
+
+"You will avoid one far greater," the other replied.
+
+Suddenly George set his lips with resolution.  He rose from his
+seat.  He took several twenty-franc pieces from his pocket and
+laid them quietly upon the doctor's desk--paying the fee in cash,
+so that he would not have to give his name and address.  He took
+up his gloves, his cane and his hat, and rose.
+
+"I will think it over," he said.  "I thank you, Doctor.  I will
+come back next week as you have told me.  That is--probably I
+will."
+
+He was about to leave.
+
+The doctor rose, and he spoke in a voice of furious anger.  "No,"
+he said, "I shan't see you next week, and you won't even think it
+over.  You came here knowing what you had; you came to ask advice
+of me, with the intention of paying no heed to it, unless it
+conformed to your wishes.  A superficial honesty has driven you
+to take that chance in order to satisfy your conscience.  You
+wanted to have somebody upon whom you could put off, bye and bye,
+the consequences of an act whose culpability you understand!  No,
+don't protest!  Many of those who come here think and act as you
+think, and as you wish to act; but the marriage made against my
+will has generally been the source of such calamities that now I
+am always afraid of not having been persuasive enough, and it
+even seems to me that I am a little to blame for these
+misfortunes.  I should have been able to prevent them; they would
+not have happened if those who are the authors of them knew what
+I know and had seen what I have seen.  Swear to me, sir, that you
+are going to break off that marriage!"
+
+George was greatly embarrassed, and unwilling to reply.  "I
+cannot swear to you at all, Doctor; I can only tell you again
+that I will think it over."
+
+"That WHAT over?"
+
+"What you have told me."
+
+"What I have told you is true!  You cannot bring any new
+objections; and I have answered those which you have presented to
+me; therefore, your mind ought to be made up."
+
+Groping for a reply, George hesitated.  He could not deny that he
+had made inquiry about these matters before he had come to the
+doctor.  But he said that he was not al all certain that he had
+this disease.  The doctor declared it, and perhaps it was true,
+but the most learned physicians were sometimes deceived.
+
+He remembered something he had read in one of the medical books.
+"Dr. Ricord maintains that after a certain period the disease is
+no longer contagious.  He has proven his contentions by examples.
+Today you produce new examples to show that he is wrong!  Now, I
+want to do what's right, but surely I have the right to think it
+over.  And when I think it over, I realize that all the evils
+with which you threaten me are only probable evils.  In spite of
+your desire to terrify me, you have been forced to admit that
+possibly my marriage would not have any troublesome consequence
+for my wife."
+
+The doctor found difficulty in restraining himself.  But he said,
+"Go on.  I will answer you afterwards."
+
+And George blundered ahead in his desperation.  "Your remedies
+are powerful, you tell me; and for the calamities of which you
+speak to befall me, I would have to be among the rare
+exceptions--also my wife would have to be among the number of
+those rare exceptions.  If a mathematician were to apply the law
+of chance to these facts, the result of his operation would show
+but slight chance of a catastrophe, as compared with the absolute
+certainty of a series of misfortunes, sufferings, troubles,
+tears, and perhaps tragic accidents which the breaking of my
+engagement would cause.  So I say that the mathematician--who is,
+even more than you, a man of science, a man of a more infallible
+science--the mathematician would conclude that wisdom was not
+with you doctors, but with me."
+
+"You believe it, sir!"  exclaimed the other.  "But you deceive
+yourself."  And he continued, driving home his point with a
+finger which seemed to George to pierce his very soul.  "Twenty
+cases identical with your own have been patiently observed, from
+the beginning to the end.  Nineteen times the woman was infected
+by her husband; you hear me, sir, nineteen times out of twenty!
+You believe that the disease is without danger, and you take to
+yourself the right to expose your wife to what you call the
+chance of your being one of those exceptions, for whom our
+remedies are without effect.  Very well; it is necessary that you
+should know the disease which your wife, without being consulted,
+will run a chance of contracting.  Take that book, sir; it is the
+work of my teacher.  Read it yourself.  Here, I have marked the
+passage."
+
+He held out the open book; but George could not lift a hand to
+take it.
+
+"You do not wish to read it?" the other continued.  "Listen to
+me."  And in a voice trembling with passion, he read:  "'I have
+watched the spectacle of an unfortunate young woman, turned into
+a veritable monster by means of a syphilitic infection.  Her
+face, or rather let me say what was left of her face, was nothing
+but a flat surface seamed with scars.'"
+
+George covered his face, exclaiming, "Enough, sir!  Have mercy!"
+
+But the other cried, "No, no!  I will go to the very end.  I have
+a duty to perform, and I will not be stopped by the sensibility
+of your nerves."
+
+He went on reading:  "'Of the upper lip not a trace was left; the
+ridge of the upper gums appeared perfectly bare.'"  But then at
+the young man's protests, his resolution failed him.  "Come," he
+said, "I will stop.  I am sorry for you--you who accept for
+another person, for the woman you say you love, the chance of a
+disease which you cannot even endure to hear described.  Now,
+from whom did that woman get syphilis?  It is not I who am
+speaking, it is the book.  'From a miserable scoundrel who was
+not afraid to enter into matrimony when he had a secondary
+eruption.'  All that was established later on--'and who,
+moreover, had thought it best not to let his wife be treated for
+fear of awakening her suspicions!'"
+
+The doctor closed the book with a bang.  "What that man has done,
+sir, is what you want to do."
+
+George was edging toward the door; he could no longer look the
+doctor in the eye.  "I should deserve all those epithets and
+still more brutal ones if I should marry, knowing that my
+marriage would cause such horrors.  But that I do not believe.
+You and your teachers--you are specialists, and consequently you
+are driven to attribute everything to the disease you make the
+subject of your studies.  A tragic case, an exceptional case,
+holds a kind of fascination for you; you think it can never be
+talked about enough."
+
+"I have heard that argument before," said the doctor, with an
+effort at patience.
+
+"Let me go on, I beg you," pleaded George.  "You have told me
+that out of every seven men there is one syphilitic.  You have
+told me that there are one hundred thousand in Paris, coming and
+going, alert, and apparently well."
+
+"It is true," said the doctor, "that there are one hundred
+thousand who are actually at this moment not visibly under the
+influence of the disease.  But many thousands have passed into
+our hospitals, victims of the most frightful ravages that our
+poor bodies can support.  These--you do not see them, and they do
+not count for you.  But again, if it concerned no one but
+yourself, you might be able to argue thus.  What I declare to
+you, what I affirm with all the violence of my conviction, is
+that you have not the right to expose a human creature to such
+chances--rare, as I know, but terrible, as I know still better.
+What have you to answer to that?"
+
+"Nothing," stammered George, brought to his knees at last.  "You
+are right about that.  I don't know what to think."
+
+"And in forbidding you marriage," continued the doctor, "is it
+the same as if I forbade it forever?  Is it the same as if I told
+you that you could never be cured?  On the contrary, I hold out
+to you every hope; but I demand of you a delay of three or four
+years, because it will take me that time to find out if you are
+among the number of those unfortunate ones whom I pity with all
+my heart, for whom the disease is without mercy; because during
+that time you will be dangerous to your wife and to your
+children.  The children I have not yet mentioned to you."
+
+Here the doctor's voice trembled slightly.  He spoke with moving
+eloquence.  "Come, sir, you are an honest man; you are too young
+for such things not to move you; you are not insensible to duty.
+It is impossible that I shan't be able to find a way to your
+heart, that I shan't be able to make you obey me.  My emotion in
+speaking to you proves that I appreciate your suffering, that I
+suffer with you.  It is in the name of my sincerity that I
+implore you.  You have admitted it--that you have not the right
+to expose your wife to such miseries.  But it is not only your
+wife that you strike; you may attack in her your own children.  I
+exclude you for a moment from my thought--you and her.  It is in
+the name of these innocents that I implore you; it is the future,
+it is the race that I defend.  Listen to me, listen to me!  Out
+of the twenty households of which I spoke, only fifteen had
+children; these fifteen had twenty-eight.  Do you know how many
+out of these twenty-eight survived?  Three, sir!  Three out of
+twenty-eight!  Syphilis is above everything a murderer of
+children.  Herod reigns in France, and over all the earth, and
+begins each year his massacre of the innocents; and if it be not
+blasphemy against the sacredness of life, I say that the most
+happy are those who have disappeared.  Visit our children's
+hospitals!  We know too well the child of syphilitic parents; the
+type is classical; the doctors can pick it out anywhere.  Those
+little old creatures who have the appearance of having already
+lived, and who have kept the stigmata of all out infirmities, of
+all our decay.  They are the victims of fathers who have married,
+being ignorant of what you know--things which I should like to go
+and cry out in the public places."
+
+The doctor paused, and then in a solemn voice continued:  "I have
+told you all, without exaggeration.  Think it over.  Consider the
+pros and cons; sum up the possible misfortunes and the certain
+miseries.  But disregard yourself, and consider that there are in
+one side of the scales the misfortunes of others, and in the
+other your own.  Take care that you are just."
+
+George was at last overcome.  "Very well," he said, "I give way.
+I won't get married.  I will invent some excuse; I will get a
+delay of six months.  More than that, I cannot do."
+
+The doctor exclaimed, "I need three years--I need four years!"
+
+"No, Doctor!" persisted George.  "You can cure me in less time
+than that."
+
+The other answered, "No!  No!  No!"
+
+George caught him by the hand, imploringly.  "Yes!  Science in
+all powerful!"
+
+"Science is not God," was the reply.  "There are no longer any
+miracles."
+
+"If only you wanted to do it!" cried the young man, hysterically.
+"You are a learned man; seek, invent, find something!  Try some
+new plan with me; give me double the dose, ten times the does;
+make me suffer.  I give myself up to you; I will endure
+everything--I swear it!  There ought to be some way to cure me
+within six months.  Listen to me!  I tell you I can't answer for
+myself with that delay.  Come; it is in the name of my wife, in
+the name of my children, that I implore you.  Do something for
+them!"
+
+The doctor had reached the limit of his patience.  "Enough, sir!"
+he cried.  "Enough!"
+
+But nothing could stop the wretched man.  "On my knees!"  he
+cried.  "I put myself on my knees before you!  Oh!  If only
+you would do it!  I would bless you; I would adore you, as one
+adores a god!  All my gratitude, all my life--half my fortune!
+For mercy's sake, Doctor, do something; invent something; make
+some discovery--have pity!"
+
+The doctor answered gravely, "Do you wish me to do more for you
+than for the others?"
+
+George answered, unblushingly, 'answered, unblushingly, "Yes!"
+He was beside himself with terror and distress.
+
+The other's reply was delivered in a solemn tone.  "Understand,
+sir, for every one of out patients we do all that we can,
+whether it be the greatest personage, or the last comer to out
+hospital clinic.  We have no secrets in reserve for those who are
+more fortunate, or less fortunate than the others, and who are in
+a hurry to be cured."
+
+George gazed at him for a moment in bewilderment and despair, and
+then suddenly bowed his head.  "Good-by, Doctor," he answered.
+
+"Au revoir, sir," the other corrected--with what proved to be
+prophetic understanding.  For George was destined to see him
+again--even though he had made up his mind to the contrary!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+George Dupont had the most important decision of his life to
+make; but there was never very much doubt what his decision would
+be.  One the one hand was the definite certainty that if he took
+the doctor's advice, he would wreck his business prospects, and
+perhaps also lose the woman he loved.  On the other hand were
+vague and uncertain possibilities which it was difficult for him
+to make real to himself.  It was all very well to wait a while to
+be cured of the dread disease; but to wait three or four years--
+that was simply preposterous!
+
+He decided to consult another physician.  He would find one this
+time who would not be so particular, who would be willing to take
+some trouble to cure him quickly.  He began to notice the
+advertisements which were scattered over the pages of the
+newspapers he read.  There were apparently plenty of doctors in
+Paris who could cure him, who were willing to guarantee to cure
+him.  After much hesitation, he picked out one whose
+advertisement sounded the most convincing.
+
+The office was located in a cheap quarter.  It was a dingy place,
+not encumbered with works of art, but with a few books covered
+with dust.  The doctor himself was stout and greasy, and he
+rubbed his hands with anticipation at the sight of so
+prosperous-looking a patient.  But he was evidently a man of
+experience, for he knew exactly what was the matter with George,
+almost without the formality of an examination.  Yes, he could
+cure him, quickly, he said.  There had recently been great
+discoveries made--new methods which had not reached the bulk of
+the profession.  He laughed at the idea of three or four years.
+That was the way with those specialists!  When one got forty
+francs for a consultation, naturally, one was glad to drag out
+the case.  There were tricks in the medical trade, as in all
+others.  A doctor had to live; when he had a big name, he had to
+live expensively.
+
+The new physician wrote out two prescriptions, and patted George
+on the shoulder as he went away.  There was no need for him to
+worry; he would surely be well in three months.  If he would put
+off his marriage for six months, he would be doing everything
+within reason.  And meantime, there was no need for him to worry
+himself--things would come out all right.  So George went away,
+feeling as if a mountain had been lifted from his shoulders.
+
+He went to see Henriette that same evening, to get the matter
+settled.  "Henriette," he said, "I have to tell you something
+very important--something rather painful.  I hope you won't let
+it disturb you too much."
+
+She was gazing at him in alarm.  "What is it?"
+
+"Why," he said, blushing in spite of himself, and regretting that
+he had begun the matter so precipitately, "for some time I've not
+been feeling quite well.  I've been having a slight cough.  Have
+you noticed it?"
+
+"Why no!" exclaimed Henriette, anxiously.
+
+"Well, today I went to see a doctor, and he says that there is a
+possibility--you understand it is nothing very serious--but it
+might be--I might possibly have lung trouble."
+
+"George!" cried the girl in horror.
+
+He put his hand upon hers.  "Don't be frightened," he said.  "It
+will be all right, only I have to take care of myself."  How very
+dear of her, he thought--to be so much worried!
+
+"George, you ought to go away to the country!" she cried.  "You
+have been working too hard.  I always told you that if you shut
+yourself up so much--"
+
+"I am going to take care of myself," he said.  "I realize that it
+is necessary.  I shall be all right--the doctor assured me there
+was no doubt of it, so you are not to distress yourself.  But
+meantime, here is the trouble:  I don't think it would be right
+for me to marry until I am perfectly well."
+
+Henriette gave an exclamation of dismay.
+
+"I am sure we should put it off," he went on, "it would be only
+fair to you."
+
+"But, George!" she protested.  "Surely it can't be that serious!"
+
+"We ought to wait," he said.  "You ought not to take the chance
+of being married to a consumptive."
+
+The other protested in consternation.  He did not look like a
+consumptive; she did not believe that he WAS a consumptive.  She
+was willing to take her chances.  She loved him, and she was not
+afraid.  But George insisted--he was sure that he ought not to
+marry for six months.
+
+"Did the doctor advise that?" asked Henriette.
+
+"No," he replied, "but I made up my mind after talking to him
+that I must do the fair and honorable thing.  I beg you to
+forgive me, and to believe that I know best."
+
+George stood firmly by this position, and so in the end she had
+to give way.  It did not seem quite modest in her to continue
+persisting.
+
+George volunteered to write a letter to her father; and he hoped
+this would settle the matter without further discussion.  But in
+this he was disappointed.  There had to be a long correspondence
+with long arguments and protestations from Henriette's father and
+from his own mother.  It seemed such a singular whim.  Everybody
+persisted in diagnosing his symptoms, in questioning him about
+what the doctor had said, who the doctor was, how he had come to
+consult him--all of which, of course, was very embarrassing to
+George, who could not see why they had to make such a fuss.  He
+took to cultivating a consumptive look, as well as he could
+imagine it; he took to coughing as he went about the house--and
+it was all he could do to keep from laughing, as he saw the look
+of dismay on his poor mother's face.  After all, however, he told
+himself that he was not deceiving her, for the disease he had was
+quite as serious as tuberculosis.
+
+It was very painful and very trying.  But there was nothing that
+could be done about it; the marriage had been put off for six
+months, and in the meantime he and Henriette had to control their
+impatience and make the best of their situation.  Six months was
+a long time; but what if it had been three or four years, as the
+other doctor had demanded?  That would have been a veritable
+sentence of death.
+
+George, as we have seen, was conscientious, and regular and
+careful in his habits.  He took the medicine which the new doctor
+prescribed for him; and day by day he watched, and to his great
+relief saw the troublesome symptoms gradually disappearing.  He
+began to take heart, and to look forward to life with his former
+buoyancy.  He had had a bad scare, but now everything was going
+to be all right.
+
+Three or four months passed, and the doctor told him he was
+cured.  He really was cured, so far as he could see.  He was
+sorry, now, that he had asked for so long a delay from Henriette;
+but the new date for the wedding had been announced, and it would
+be awkward to change it again.  George told himself that he was
+being "extra careful," and he was repaid for the inconvenience by
+the feeling of virtue derived from the delay.  He was relieved
+that he did not have to cough any more, or to invent any more
+tales of his interviews with the imaginary lung-specialist.
+Sometimes he had guilty feelings because of all the lying he had
+had to do; but he told himself that it was for Henriette's sake.
+She loved him as much as he loved her.  She would have suffered
+needless agonies had she known the truth; she would never have
+got over it--so it would have been a crime to tell her.
+
+He really loved her devotedly, thoroughly.  From the beginning he
+had thought as much of her mental sufferings as he had of any
+physical harm that the dread disease might do to him.  How could
+he possibly persuade himself to give her up, when he knew that
+the separation would break her heart and ruin her whole life?
+No; obviously, in such a dilemma, it was his duty to use his own
+best judgment, and get himself cured as quickly as possible.
+After that he would be true to her, he would take no more chances
+of a loathsome disease.
+
+The secret he was hiding made him feel humble--made him unusually
+gentle in his attitude towards the girl.  He was a perfect lover,
+and she was ravished with happiness.  She thought that all his
+sufferings were because of his love for her, and the delay which
+he had imposed out of his excess of conscientiousness.  So she
+loved him more and more, and never was there a happier bride than
+Henriette Loches, when at last the great day arrived.
+
+They went to the Riveria for their honeymoon, and then returned
+to live in the home which had belonged to George's father.  The
+investment in the notary's practice had proven a good one, and so
+life held out every promise for the young couple.  They were
+divinely happy.
+
+After a while, the bride communicated to her husband the tidings
+that she was expecting a child.  Then it seemed to George that
+the cup of his earthly bliss was full.  His ailment had slipped
+far into the background of his thoughts, like an evil dream which
+he had forgotten.  He put away the medicines in the bottom of his
+trunk and dismissed the whole matter from his mind.  Henriette
+was well--a very picture of health, as every one agreed.  The
+doctor had never seen a more promising young mother, he declared,
+and Madame Dupont, the elder, bloomed with fresh life and joy as
+she attended her daughter-in-law.
+
+Henriette went for the summer to her father's place in the
+provinces, which she and George had visited before their
+marriage.  They drove out one day to the farm where they had
+stopped.  The farmer's wife had a week-old baby, the sight of
+which made Henriette's heart leap with delight.  He was such a
+very healthy baby that George conceived the idea that this would
+be the woman to nurse his own child, in case Henriette herself
+should not be able to do it.
+
+They came back to the city, and there the baby was born.  As
+George paced the floor, waiting for the news, the memory of his
+evil dreams came back to him.  He remembered all the dreadful
+monstrosities of which he had read--infants that were born of
+syphilitic parents.  His heart stood still when the nurse came
+into the room to tell him the tidings.
+
+But it was all right; of course it was all right!  He had been a
+fool, he told himself, as he stood in the darkened room and gazed
+at the wonderful little mite of life which was the fruit of his
+love.  It was a perfect child, the doctor said--a little small,
+to be sure, but that was a defect which would soon be remedied.
+George kneeled by the bedside and kissed the hand of his wife,
+and went out of the room feeling as if he had escaped from a
+tomb.
+
+All went well, and after a couple of weeks Henriette was about
+the house again, laughing all day and singing with joy.  But the
+baby did not gain quite as rapidly as the doctor had hoped, and
+it was decided that the country air would be better for her.  So
+George and his mother paid a visit to the farm in the country,
+and arranged that the country woman should put her own child to
+nurse elsewhere and should become the foster-mother of little Gervaise.
+
+George paid a good price for the service, far more than would
+have been necessary, for the simple country woman was delighted
+with the idea of taking care of the grandchild of the deputy of
+her district.  George came home and told his wife about this and
+had a merry time as he pictured the woman boasting about it to
+the travelers who stopped at her door.  "Yes, ma'am, a great
+piece of luck I've got, ma'am.  I've got the daughter of the
+daughter of our deputy--at your service ma'am.  My!  But she is
+as fat as out little calf--and so clever!  She understands
+everything.  A great piece of luck for me, ma'am.  She's the
+daughter of the daughter of our deputy!"  Henriette was vastly
+entertained, discovering in her husband a new talent, that of an
+actor.
+
+As for George's mother, she was hardly to be persuaded from
+staying in the country with the child.  She went twice a week, to
+make sure that all went well.  Henriette and she lived with the
+child's picture before them; they spent their time sewing on caps
+and underwear--all covered with laces and frills and pink and
+blue ribbons.  Every day, when George came home from his work, he
+found some new article completed, and was ravished by the scent
+of some new kind of sachet powder.  What a lucky man he was!
+
+You would think he must have been the happiest man in the whole
+city of Paris.  But George, alas, had to pay the penalty for his
+early sins.  There was, for instance, the deception he had
+practiced upon his friend, away back in the early days.  Now he
+had friends of his own, and he could not keep these friends from
+visiting him; and so he was unquiet with the fear that some one
+of them might play upon him the same vile trick.  Even in the
+midst of his radiant happiness, when he knew that Henriette was
+hanging upon his every word, trembling with delight when she
+heard his latchkey in the door--still he could not drive away the
+horrible thought that perhaps all this might be deception.
+
+There was his friend, Gustave, for example.  He had been a friend
+of Henriette's before her marriage; he had even been in love with
+her at one time.  And now he came sometimes to the house--once or
+twice when George was away!  What did that mean?  George
+wondered.  He brooded over it all day, but dared not drop any
+hint to Henriette.  But he took to setting little traps to catch
+her; for instance, he would call her up on the telephone,
+disguising his voice.  "Hello!  Hello!  Is that you, Madame
+Dupont?"  And when she answered, "It is I, sir," all
+unsuspecting, he would inquire, "Is George there?"
+
+"No, sir," she replied.  "Who is this speaking?"
+
+He answered, "It is I, Gustave.  How are you this morning?"  He
+wanted to see what she would answer.  Would she perhaps say,
+"Very well, Gustave.  How are you?"--in a tone which would betray
+too great intimacy!
+
+But Henriette was a sharp young person.  The tone did not sound
+like Gustave's.  She asked in bewilderment, "What?" and then
+again, "What?"
+
+So, at last, George, afraid that his trick might be suspected,
+had to burst out laughing, and turn it into a joke.  But when he
+came home and teased his wife about it, the laugh was not all on
+his side.  Henriette had guessed the real meaning of his joke!
+She did not really mind--she took his jealousy as a sign of love,
+and was pleased with it.  It is not until a third party come upon
+the scene that jealousy begins to be annoying.
+
+So she had a merry time teasing George.  "You are a great fellow!
+You have no idea how well I understand you--and after only a year
+of marriage!"
+
+"You know me?" said the husband, curiously.  (It is always so
+fascinating when anybody thinks she know us better than we know
+ourselves!)  "Tell me, what do you think about me?"
+
+"You are restless," said Henriette.  "You are suspicious.  You
+pass your time putting flies in your milk, and inventing wise
+schemes to get them out."
+
+"Oh, you think that, do you?" said George, pleased to be talked
+about.
+
+"I am not annoyed," she answered.  "You have always been that
+way--and I know that it's because at bottom you are timid and
+disposed to suffer.  And then, too, perhaps you have reasons for
+not having confidence in a wife's intimate friends--lady-killer
+that you are!"
+
+George found this rather embarrassing; but he dared not show it,
+so he laughed gayly.  "I don't know what you mean," he said--
+"upon my word I don't.  But it is a trick I would not advise
+everybody to try."
+
+There were other embarrassing moments, caused by George's having
+things to conceal.  There was, for instance, the matter of the
+six months' delay in the marriage--about which Henriette would
+never stop talking.  She begrudged the time, because she had got
+the idea that little Gervaise was six months younger than she
+otherwise would have been.  "That shows your timidity again," she
+would say.  "The idea of your having imagined yourself a
+consumptive!"
+
+Poor George had to defend himself.  "I didn't tell you half the
+truth, because I was afraid of upsetting you.  It seemed I had
+the beginning of chronic bronchitis.  I felt it quite keenly
+whenever I took a breath, a deep breath--look, like this.  Yes--I
+felt--here and there, on each side of the chest, a heaviness--a
+difficulty--"
+
+"The idea of taking six months to cure you of a thing like that!"
+exclaimed Henriette.  "And making our baby six months younger
+than she ought to be!"
+
+"But," laughed George, "that means that we shall have her so much
+the longer!  She will get married six months later!"
+
+"Oh, dear me," responded the other, "let us not talk about such
+things!  I am already worried, thinking she will get married some
+day."
+
+"For my part," said George, "I see myself mounting with her on my
+arm the staircase of the Madeleine."
+
+"Why the Madeleine?" exclaimed his wife.  "Such a very
+magnificent church!"
+
+"I don't know--I see her under her white veil, and myself all
+dressed up, and with an order."
+
+"With an order!" laughed Henriette.  "What do you expect to do to
+win an order?"
+
+"I don't know that--but I see myself with it.  Explain it as you
+will, I see myself with an order.  I see it all, exactly as if I
+were there--the Swiss guard with his white stockings and the
+halbard, and the little milliner's assistants and the scullion
+lined up staring."
+
+"It is far off--all that," said Henriette.  "I don't like to talk
+of it.  I prefer her as a baby.  I want her to grow up--but then
+I change my mind and think I don't.  I know your mother doesn't.
+Do you know, I don't believe she ever thinks about anything but
+her little Gervaise."
+
+"I believe you," said the father.  "The child can certainly boast
+of having a grandmother who loves her."
+
+"Also, I adore your mother," declared Henriette.  "She makes me
+forget my misfortune in not having my own mother.  She is so
+good!"
+
+"We are all like that in our family," put in George.
+
+"Really," laughed the wife.  "Well, anyhow--the last time that we
+went down in the country with her--you had gone out, I don't know
+where you had gone--"
+
+"To see the sixteenth-century chest," suggested the other.
+
+"Oh, yes," laughed Henriette; "your famous chest!"  (You must
+excuse this little family chatter of theirs--they were so much in
+love with each other!)
+
+"Don't let's talk about that," objected George.  "You were
+saying--?"
+
+"You were not there.  The nurse was out at mass, I think--"
+
+"Or at the wine merchant's!  Go on, go on."
+
+"Well, I was in the little room, and mother dear thought she was
+all alone with Gervaise.  I was listening; she was talking to the
+baby--all sorts of nonsense, pretty little words--stupid, if you
+like, but tender.  I wanted to laugh, and at the same time I
+wanted to weep."
+
+"Perhaps she called her 'my dear little Savior'?"
+
+"Exactly!  Did you hear her?"
+
+"No--but that is what she used to call me when I was little."
+
+"It was that day she swore that the little one had recognized
+her, and laughed!"
+
+"Oh, yes!"
+
+"And then another time, when I went into her room--mother's
+room--she didn't hear me because the door was open, but I saw
+her.  She was in ecstasy before the little boots which the baby
+wore at baptism--you know?"
+
+"Yes, yes."
+
+"Listen, then.  She had taken them and she was embracing them!"
+
+"And what did you say then?"
+
+"Nothing; I stole out very softly, and I sent across the
+threshold a great kiss to the dear grandmother!"
+
+Henriette sat for a moment in thought.  "It didn't take her very
+long," she remarked, "today when she got the letter from the
+nurse.  I imagine she caught the eight-fifty-nine train!"
+
+"Any yet," laughed George, "it was really nothing at all."
+
+"Oh no," said his wife.  "Yet after all, perhaps she was right--
+and perhaps I ought to have gone with her."
+
+"How charming you are, my poor Henriette!  You believe everything
+you are told.  I, for my part, divined right away the truth.  The
+nurse was simply playing a game on us; she wanted a raise.  Will
+you bet?  Come, I'll bet you something.  What would you like to
+bet?  You don't want to?  Come, I'll bet you a lovely necklace--
+you know, with a big pearl."
+
+"No," said Henriette, who had suddenly lost her mood of gayety.
+"I should be too much afraid of winning."
+
+"Stop!" laughed her husband.  "Don't you believe I love her as
+much as you love her--my little duck?  Do you know how old she
+is?  I mean her EXACT age?"
+
+Henriette sat knitting her brows, trying to figure.
+
+"Ah!" he exploded.  "You see you don't know!  She is ninety-one
+days and eight hours!  Ha, ha!  Imagine when she will be able to
+walk all alone.  Then we will take her back with us; we must wait
+at least six months."  Then, too late, poor George realized that
+he had spoken the fatal phrase again.
+
+"If only you hadn't put off our marriage, she would be able to
+walk now," said Henriette.
+
+He rose suddenly.  "Come," he said, "didn't you say you had to
+dress and pay some calls?"
+
+Henriette laughed, but took the hint.
+
+"Run along, little wife," he said.  "I have a lot of work to do
+in the meantime.  You won't be down-stairs before I shall have my
+nose buried in my papers.  Bye-bye."
+
+"Bye-bye," said Henriette.  But they paused to exchange a dozen
+or so kisses before she went away to dress.
+
+Then George lighted a cigarette and stretched himself out in the
+big armchair.  He seemed restless; he seemed to be disturbed
+about something.  Could it be that he had not been so much at
+ease as he had pretended to be, since the letter had come from
+the baby's nurse?  Madame Dupont had gone by the earliest train
+that morning.  She had promised to telegraph at once--but she had
+not done so, and now it was late afternoon.
+
+George got up and wandered about.  He looked at himself in the
+glass for a moment; then he went back to the chair and pulled up
+another to put his geet upon.  He puffed away at his cigarette
+until he was calmer.  But then suddenly he heard the rustle of a
+dress behind him, and glanced about, and started up with an
+exclamation, "Mother!"
+
+Madame Dupont stood in the doorway.  She did not speak.  Her veil
+was thrown back and George noted instantly the look of agitation
+upon her countenance.
+
+"What's the matter?" he cried.  "We didn't get any telegram from
+you; we were not expecting you till tomorrow."
+
+Still his mother did not speak.
+
+"Henriette was just going out," he exclaimed nervously; "I had
+better call her."
+
+"No!" said his mother quickly.  Her voice was low and trembling.
+"I did not want Henriette to be here when I arrived."
+
+"But what's the matter?"  cried George.
+
+Again there was a silence before the reply came.  He read
+something terrible in the mother's manner, and he found himself
+trembling violently.
+
+"I have brought back the child and the nurse," said Madame
+Dupont.
+
+"What!  Is the little one sick?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What's the matter with her?"
+
+"Nothing dangerous--for the moment, at least."
+
+"We must send and get the doctor!" cried George.
+
+"I have just come from the doctor's," was the reply.  "He said it
+was necessary to take our child from the nurse and bring her up
+on the bottle."
+
+Again there was a pause.  George could hardly bring himself to
+ask the next question.  Try as he would, he could not keep his
+voice from weakening.  "Well, now, what is her trouble?"
+
+The mother did not answer.  She stood staring before her.  At
+last she said, faintly, "I don't know."
+
+"You didn't ask?"
+
+"I asked.  But it was not to our own doctor that I went."
+
+"Ah!" whispered George.  For nearly a minute neither one of them
+spoke.  "Why?" he inquired at last.
+
+"Because--he--the nurse's doctor--had frightened me so--"
+
+"Truly?"
+
+"Yes.  It is a disease--" again she stopped.
+
+George cried, in a voice of agony, "and then?"
+
+"Then I asked him if the matter was so grave that I could not be
+satisfied with our ordinary doctor."
+
+"And what did he answer?"
+
+"He said that if we had the means it would really be better to
+consult a specialist."
+
+George looked at his mother again.  He was able to do it, because
+she was not looking at him.  He clenched his hands and got
+himself together.  "And--where did he send you?"
+
+His mother fumbled in her hand bag and drew out a visiting card.
+"Here," she said.
+
+And George looked at the card.  It was all he could do to keep
+himself from tottering.  It was the card of the doctor whom he
+had first consulted about his trouble!  The specialist in
+venereal diseases!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+It was all George could do to control his voice.  "You--you went
+to see him?" he stammered.
+
+"Yes," said his mother.  "You know him?"
+
+"No, no," he answered.  "Or--that is--I have met him, I think.  I
+don't know."  And then to himself, "My God!"
+
+There was a silence.  "He is coming to talk to you," said the
+mother, at last.
+
+George was hardly able to speak.  "Then he is very much
+disturbed?"
+
+"No, but he wants to talk to you."
+
+"To me?"
+
+"Yes.  When the doctor saw the nurse, he said, 'Madame, it is
+impossible for me to continue to attend this child unless I have
+had this very day a conversation with the father.'  So I said
+'Very well,' and he said he would come at once."
+
+George turned away, and put his hands to his forehead.  "My poor
+little daughter!" he whispered to himself.
+
+"Yes," said the mother, her voice breaking, "she is, indeed, a
+poor little daughter!"
+
+A silence fell; for what could words avail in such a situation?
+Hearing the door open, Madame Dupont started, for her nerves were
+all a-quiver with the strain she had been under.  A servant came
+in and spoke to her, and she said to George, "It is the doctor.
+If you need me, I shall be in the next room."
+
+Her son stood trembling, as if he were waiting the approach of an
+executioner.  The other came into the room without seeing him and
+he stood for a minute, clasping and unclasping his hands, almost
+overcome with emotion.  Then he said, "Good-day, doctor."  As the
+man stared at him, surprised and puzzled, he added, "You don't
+recognize me?"
+
+The doctor looked again, more closely.  George was expecting him
+to break out in rage; but instead his voice fell low.  "You!" he
+exclaimed.  "It is you!"
+
+At last, in a voice of discouragement than of anger, he went on,
+"You got married, and you have a child!  After all that I told
+you!  You are a wretch!"
+
+"Sir," cried George, "let me explain to you!"
+
+"Not a word!" exclaimed the other.  "There can be no explanation
+for what you have done."
+
+A silence followed.  The young man did not know what to say.
+Finally, stretching out his arms, he pleaded, "You will take care
+of my little daughter all the same, will you not?"
+
+The other turned away with disgust.  "Imbecile!" he said.
+
+George did not hear the word.  "I was able to wait only six
+months," he murmured.
+
+The doctor answered in a voice of cold self-repression, "That is
+enough, sir!  All that does not concern me.  I have done wrong
+even to let you see my indignation.  I should have left you to
+judge yourself.  I have nothing to do here but with the present
+and with the future--with the infant and with the nurse."
+
+"She isn't in danger?" cried George.
+
+"The nurse is in danger of being contaminated."
+
+But George had not been thinking about the nurse.  "I mean my
+child," he said.
+
+"Just at present the symptoms are not disturbing."
+
+George waited; after a while he began, "You were saying about the
+nurse.  Will you consent that I call my mother?  She knows better
+than I."
+
+"As you wish," was the reply.
+
+The young man started to the door, but came back, in terrible
+distress.  "I have one prayer to offer you sir; arrange it so
+that my wife--so that no one will know.  If my wife learned that
+it is I who am the cause--!  It is for her that I implore you!
+She--she isn't to blame."
+
+Said the doctor:  "I will do everything in my power that she may
+be kept ignorant of the true nature of the disease."
+
+"Oh, how I thank you!" murmured George.  "How I thank you!"
+
+"Do not thank me; it is for her, and not for you, that I will
+consent to lie."
+
+"And my mother?"
+
+"Your mother knows the truth."
+
+"But--"
+
+"I pray you, sir--we have enough to talk about, and very serious
+matters."
+
+So George went to the door and called his mother.  She entered
+and greeted the doctor, holding herself erect, and striving to
+keep the signs of grief and terror from her face.  She signed to
+the doctor to take a seat, and then seated herself by a little
+table near him.
+
+"Madame Dupont," he began, "I have prescribed a course of
+treatment for the child.  I hope to be able to improve its
+condition, and to prevent any new developments.  But my duty and
+yours does not stop there; if there is still time, it is
+necessary to protect the health of the nurse."
+
+"Tell us what it is necessary to do, Doctor?" said she.
+
+"The woman must stop nursing the child."
+
+"You mean we have to change the nurse?"
+
+"Madame, the child can no longer be brought up at the breast,
+either by that nurse or by any other nurse."
+
+"But why, sir?"
+
+"Because the child would give her disease to the woman who gave
+her milk."
+
+"But, Doctor, if we put her on the bottle--our little one--she
+will die!"
+
+And suddenly George burst out into sobs.  "Oh, my poor little
+daughter!  My God, my God!"
+
+Said the doctor, "If the feeding is well attended to, with
+sterilized milk--"
+
+"That can do very well for healthy infants," broke in Madame
+Dupont.  "But at the age of three months one cannot take from the
+breast a baby like ours, frail and ill.  More than any other such
+an infant has need of a nurse--is that not true?"
+
+"Yes," the doctor admitted, "that is true.  But--"
+
+"In that case, between the life of the child, and the health of
+the nurse, you understand perfectly well that my choice is made."
+
+Between her words the doctor heard the sobbing of George, whose
+head was buried in his arms.  "Madame," he said, "your love for
+that baby has just caused you to utter something ferocious!  It
+is not for you to choose.  It is not for you to choose.  I forbid
+the nursing.  The health of that woman does not belong to you."
+
+"No," cried the grandmother, wildly, "nor does the health of out
+child belong to you!  If there is a hope of saving it, that hope
+is in giving it more care than any other child; and you would
+wish that I put it upon a mode of nourishment which the doctors
+condemn, even for vigorous infants!  You expect that I will let
+myself be taken in like that?  I answer you:  she shall have the
+milk which she needs, my poor little one!  If there was a single
+thing that one could do to save her--I should be a criminal to
+neglect it!"  And Madame Dupont broke out, with furious scorn,
+"The nurse!  The nurse!  We shall know how to do our duty--we
+shall take care of her, repay her.  But our child before all!  No
+sir, no!  Everything that can be done to save our baby I shall
+do, let it cost what it will.  To do what you say--you don't
+realize it--it would be as if I should kill the child!"  In the
+end the agonized woman burst into tears.  "Oh, my poor little
+angel!  My little savior!"
+
+George had never ceased sobbing while his mother spoke; at these
+last words his sobs became loud cries.  He struck the floor with
+his foot, he tore his hair, as if he were suffering from violent
+physical pain.  "Oh, oh, oh!" he cried.  "My little child!  My
+little child!"  And then, in a horrified whisper to himself, "I
+am a wretch!  A criminal!"
+
+"Madame," said the doctor, "you must calm yourself; you must both
+calm yourselves.  You will not help out the situation by
+lamentations.  You must learn to take it with calmness."
+
+Madame Dupont set her lips together, and with a painful effort
+recovered her self-control.  "You are right, sir," she said, in a
+low voice.  "I ask your pardon; but if you only knew what that
+child means to me!  I lost one at that age.  I am an old woman, I
+am a widow--I had hardly hoped to live long enough to be a
+grandmother.  But, as you say--we must be calm."  She turned to
+the young man, "Calm yourself, my son.  It is a poor way to show
+our love for the child, to abandon ourselves to tears.  Let us
+talk, Doctor, and seriously--coldly.  But I declare to you that
+nothing will ever induce me to put the child on the bottle, when
+I know that it might kill her.  That is all I can say."
+
+The doctor replied:  "This isn't the first time that I find
+myself in the present situation.  Madame, I declare to you that
+always--ALWAYS, you understand--persons who have rejected my
+advice have had reason to repent it cruelly."
+
+"The only thing of which I should repent--" began the other.
+
+"You simply do not know," interrupted the doctor, "what such a
+nurse is capable of.  You cannot imagine what bitterness--
+legitimate bitterness, you understand--joined to the rapacity,
+the cupidity, the mischief-making impulse--might inspire these
+people to do.  For them the BOURGEOIS is always somewhat of an
+enemy; and when they find themselves in position to avenge their
+inferiority, they are ferocious."
+
+"But what could the woman do?"
+
+"What could she do?  She could bring legal proceedings against
+you."
+
+"But she is much too stupid to have that idea."
+
+"Others will put it into her mind."
+
+"She is too poor to pay the preliminary expenses."
+
+"And do you propose then to profit by her ignorance and
+stupidity?  Besides, she could obtain judicial assistance."
+
+"Why, surely," exclaimed Madame Dupont, "such a thing was never
+heard of!  Do you mean that?"
+
+"I know a dozen prosecutions of that sort; and always when there
+has been certainty, the parents have lost their case."
+
+"But surely, Doctor, you must be mistaken!  Not in a case like
+ours--not when it is a question of saving the life of a poor
+little innocent!"
+
+"Oftentimes exactly such facts have been presented."
+
+Here George broke in.  "I can give you the dates of the
+decisions."  He rose from his chair, glad of an opportunity to be
+useful.  "I have the books," he said, and took one from the case
+and brought it to the doctor.
+
+"All of that is no use--" interposed the mother.
+
+But the doctor said to George, "You will be able to convince
+yourself.  The parents have been forced once or twice to pay the
+nurse a regular income, and at other times they have had to pay
+her an indemnity, of which the figure has varied between three
+and eight thousand francs."
+
+Madame Dupont was ready with a reply to this.  "Never fear, sir!
+If there should be a suit, we should have a good lawyer.  We
+shall be able to pay and choose the best--and he would demand,
+without doubt, which of the two, the nurse or the child, has
+given the disease to the other."
+
+The doctor was staring at her in horror.  "Do you not perceive
+that would be a monstrous thing to do?"
+
+"Oh, I would not have to say it," was the reply.  "The lawyer
+would see to it--is not that his profession?  My point is this:
+by one means or another he would make us win our case."
+
+"And the scandal that would result," replied the other.  "Have
+you thought of that?"
+
+Here George, who had been looking over his law-books, broke in.
+"Doctor, permit me to give you a little information.  In cases of
+this sort, the names are never printed."
+
+"Yes, but they are spoken at the hearings."
+
+"That's true."
+
+"And are you certain that there will not be any newspaper to
+print the judgment?"
+
+"What won't they stoop to," exclaimed Madame Dupont--"those
+filthy journals!"
+
+"Ah," said the other, "and see what a scandal?  What a shame it
+would be to you!"
+
+"The doctor is right, mother," exclaimed the young man.
+
+But Madame Dupont was not yet convinced.  "We will prevent the
+woman from taking any steps; we will give her what she demands
+from us."
+
+"But then," said the other, "you will give yourselves up to the
+risk of blackmail.  I know a family which has been thus held up
+for over twelve years."
+
+"If you will permit me, Doctor," said George, timidly, "she could
+be made to sign a receipt."
+
+"For payment in full?" asked the doctor, scornfully.
+
+"Even so."
+
+"And then," added his mother, "she would be more than delighted
+to go back to her country with a full purse.  She would be able
+to buy a little house and a bit of ground--in that country one
+doesn't need so much in order to live."
+
+At this moment there was a tap upon the door, and the nurse
+entered.  She was a country woman, robust, rosy-cheeked, fairly
+bursting with health.  When she spoke one got the impression that
+her voice was more than she could contain.  It did not belong in
+a drawing-room, but under the open sky of her country home.
+"Sir," she said, addressing the doctor, "the baby is awake."
+
+"I will go and see her," was the reply; and then to Madame
+Dupont, "We will take up this conversation later on."
+
+"Certainly," said the mother.  "Will you have need of the nurse?"
+
+"No, Madame," the doctor answered.
+
+"Nurse," said the mother, "sit down and rest.  Wait a minute, I
+wish to speak to you."  As the doctor went out, she took her son
+to one side and whispered to him, "I know the way to arrange
+everything.  If we let her know what is the matter, and if she
+accepts, the doctor will have nothing more to say.  Isn't that
+so?"
+
+"Obviously," replied the son.
+
+"I am going to promise that we will give her two thousand francs
+when she goes away, if she will consent to continue nursing the
+child."
+
+"Two thousand francs?" said the other.  "Is that enough?"
+
+"I will see," was the reply.  "If she hesitates, I will go
+further.  Let me attend to it."
+
+George nodded his assent, and Madame Dupont returned to the
+nurse.  "You know," she said, "that our child is a little sick?"
+
+The other looked at her in surprise.  "Why no, ma'am!"
+
+"Yes," said the grandmother.
+
+"But, ma'am, I have taken the best of care of her; I have always
+kept her proper."
+
+"I am not saying anything to the contrary," said Madame Dupont,
+"but the child is sick, the doctors have said it."
+
+The nurse was not to be persuaded; she thought they were getting
+ready to scold her.  "Humph," she said, "that's a fine thing--the
+doctors!  If they couldn't always find something wrong you'd say
+they didn't know their business."
+
+"But our doctor is a great doctor; and you have seen yourself
+that our child has some little pimples."
+
+"Ah, ma'am," said the nurse, "that's the heat--it's nothing but
+the heat of the blood breaking out.  You don't need to bother
+yourself; I tell you it's only the child's blood.  It's not my
+fault; I swear to you that she had not lacked anything, and that
+I have always kept her proper."
+
+"I am not reproaching you--"
+
+"What is there to reproach me for?  Oh, what bad luck!  She's
+tiny--the little one--she's a bit feeble; but Lord save us, she's
+a city child!  And she's getting along all right, I tell you."
+
+"No," persisted Madame Dupont, "I tell you--she has got a cold in
+her head, and she has an eruption at the back of the throat."
+
+"Well," cried the nurse, angrily, "if she has, it's because the
+doctor scratched her with that spoon he put into her mouth wrong
+end first!  A cold in the head?  Yes, that's true; but if she has
+caught cold, I can't say when, I don't know anything about it--
+nothing, nothing at all.  I have always kept her well covered;
+she's always had as much as three covers on her.  The truth is,
+it was when you came, the time before last; you were all the time
+insisting upon opening the windows in the house!"
+
+"But once more I tell you," cried Madame Dupont, "we are not
+putting any blame on you."
+
+"Yes," cried the woman, more vehemently.  "I know what that kind
+of talk means.  It's no use--when you're a poor country woman."
+
+"What are you imagining now?" demanded the other.
+
+"Oh, that's all right.  It's no use when you're a poor country
+woman."
+
+"I repeat to you once more," cried Madame Dupont, with difficulty
+controlling her impatience, "we have nothing whatever to blame
+you for."
+
+But the nurse began to weep.  "If I had known that anything like
+this was coming to me--"
+
+"We have nothing to blame you for," declared the other.  "We only
+wish to warn you that you might possibly catch the disease of the
+child."
+
+The woman pouted.  "A cold in the head!" she exclaimed.  "Well,
+if I catch it, it won't be the first time.  I know how to blow my
+nose."
+
+"But you might also get the pimples."
+
+At this the nurse burst into laughter so loud that the
+bric-a-brac rattled.  "Oh, oh, oh!  Dear lady, let me tell you,
+we ain't city folks, we ain't; we don't have such soft skins.
+What sort of talk is that?  Pimples--what difference would that
+make to poor folks like us?  We don't have a white complexion like the ladies
+of Paris.  We are out all day in the fields, in the sun and the rain, instead
+of rubbing cold cream on our muzzles!  No offense, ma'am--but I say if you're
+looking for an excuse to get rid of me, you must get a better one than that."
+
+"Excuse!" exclaimed the other.  "What in the world do you mean?"
+
+"Oh, I know!" said the nurse, nodding her head.
+
+"But speak!"
+
+"It's no use, when you're only a poor country woman."
+
+"I don't understand you!  I swear to you that I don't understand
+you!"
+
+"Well," sneered the other, "I understand."
+
+"But then--explain yourself."
+
+"No, I don't want to say it."
+
+"But you must; I wish it."
+
+"Well--"
+
+"Go ahead."
+
+"I'm only a poor country woman, but I am no more stupid than the
+others, for all that.  I know perfectly well what your tricks
+mean.  Mr. George here has been grumbling because you promised me
+thirty francs more a month, if I came to Paris."  And then,
+turning upon the other, she went on--"But, sir, isn't it only
+natural?  Don't I have to put my own child away somewheres else?
+And then, can my husband live on his appetite?  We're nothing but
+poor country people, we are."
+
+"You are making a mistake, nurse," broke in George.  "It is
+nothing at all of that sort; mother is quite right.  I am so far
+from wanting to reproach you, that, on the contrary, I think she
+had not promised enough, and I want to make you, for my part,
+another promise.  When you go away, when baby is old enough to be
+weaned, by way of thanking you, we wish to give you--"
+
+Madame Dupont broke in, hurriedly, "We wish to give you,--over
+and above your wages, you understand--we wish to give you five
+hundred francs, and perhaps a thousand, if the little one is
+altogether in good health.  You understand?"
+
+The nurse stared at her, stupefied.  "You will give me five
+hundred francs--for myself?"  She sought to comprehend the words.
+"But that was not agreed, you don't have to do that at all."
+
+"No," admitted Madame Dupont.
+
+"But then," whispered the nurse, half to herself, "that's not
+natural."
+
+"Yes," the other hurried on, "it is because the baby will have
+need of extra care.  You will have to take more trouble; you will
+have to give it medicines; your task will be a little more
+delicate, a little more difficult."
+
+"Oh, yes; then it's so that I will be sure to take care of her?
+I understand."
+
+"Then it's agreed?" exclaimed Madame Dupont, with relief.
+
+"Yes ma'am," said the nurse.
+
+"And you won't come later on to make reproaches to us?  We
+understand one another clearly?  We have warned you that the
+child is sick and that you could catch the disease.  Because of
+that, because of the special need of care which she has, we
+promise you five hundred francs at the end of the nursing.
+That's all right, is it?
+
+"But, my lady," cried the nurse, all her cupidity awakened, "you
+spoke just now of a thousand francs."
+
+"Very well, then, a thousand francs."
+
+George passed behind the nurse and got his mother by the arm,
+drawing her to one side.  "It would be a mistake," he whispered,
+"if we did not make her sign an agreement to all that."
+
+His mother turned to the nurse.  "In order that there may be no
+misunderstanding about the sum--you see how it is, I had
+forgotten already that I had spoken of a thousand francs--we will
+draw up a little paper, and you, on your part, will write one for
+us."
+
+"Very good, ma'am," said the nurse, delighted with the idea of so
+important a transaction.  "Why, it's just as you do when you rent
+a house!"
+
+"Here comes the doctor," said the other.  "Come, nurse, it is
+agreed?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am," was the answer.  But all the same, as she went out
+she hesitated and looked sharply first at the doctor, and then at
+George and his mother.  She suspected that something was wrong,
+and she meant to find out if she could.
+
+The doctor seated himself in George's office chair, as if to
+write a prescription.  "The child's condition remains the same,"
+he said; "nothing disturbing."
+
+"Doctor," said Madame Dupont, gravely, "from now on, you will be
+able to devote your attention to the baby and the nurse without
+any scruple.  During your absence we have arranged matters
+nicely.  The nurse has been informed about the situation, and she
+does not mind.  She has agreed to accept an indemnity, and the
+amount has been stated."
+
+But the doctor did not take these tidings as the other had hoped
+he might.  He replied:  "The malady which the nurse will almost
+inevitably contract in feeding the child is too grave in its
+consequences.  Such consequences might go as far as complete
+helplessness, even as far as death.  So I say that the indemnity,
+whatever it might be, would not pay the damage."
+
+"But," exclaimed the other, "she accepts it!  She is mistress of
+herself, and she has the right--"
+
+"I am not at all certain that she has the right to sell her own
+health.  And I am certain that she has not the right to sell the
+health of her husband and her children.  If she becomes infected,
+it is nearly certain that she will communicate the disease to
+them; the health and the life of the children she might have
+later on would be greatly compromised.  Such things she cannot
+possibly sell.  Come, madame, you must see that a bargain of this
+sort isn't possible.  If the evil has not been done, you must do
+everything to avoid it."
+
+"Sir," protested the mother, wildly, "you do not defend our
+interests!"
+
+"Madame," was the reply, "I defend those who are weakest."
+
+"If we had called in our own physician, who knows us," she
+protested, "he would have taken sides with us."
+
+The doctor rose, with a severe look on his face.  "I doubt it,"
+he said, "but there is still time to call him."
+
+George broke in with a cry of distress.  "Sir, I implore you!"
+
+And the mother in turn cried.  "Don't abandon us, sir!  You ought
+to make allowances!  If you knew what that child is to me!  I
+tell you it seems to me as if I had waited for her coming in
+order to die.  Have pity upon us!  Have pity upon her!  You speak
+of the weakest--it is not she who is the weakest?  You have seen
+her, you have seen that poor little baby, so emaciated!  You have
+seen what a heap of suffering she is already; and cannot that
+inspire in you any sympathy?  I pray you, sir--I pray you!"
+
+"I pity her," said the doctor, "I would like to save her--and I
+will do everything for her.  But do not ask me to sacrifice to a
+feeble infant, with an uncertain and probably unhappy life, the
+health of a sound and robust woman.  It is useless for us to
+continue such a discussion as that."
+
+Whereupon Madame Dupont leaped up in sudden frenzy.  "Very Well!"
+she exclaimed.  "I will not follow your counsels, I will not
+listen to you!"
+
+Said the doctor in a solemn voice:  "There is already some one
+here who regrets that he did not listen to me."
+
+"Yes," moaned George, "to my misfortune, to the misfortune of all
+of us."
+
+But Madame Dupont was quite beside herself.  "Very well!" she
+cried.  "If it is a fault, if it is a crime, if I shall have to
+suffer remorse for it in this life, and all the punishments in
+the life to come--I accept it all for myself alone!  Myself
+alone, I take that responsibility!  It is frightfully heavy, but
+I accept it.  I am profoundly a Christian sir; I believe in
+eternal damnation; but to save my little child I consent to lose
+my soul forever.  Yes, my mind is made up--I will do everything
+to save that life!  Let God judge me; and if he condemns me, so
+much the worse for me!"
+
+The doctor answered:  "That responsibility is one which I cannot
+let you take, for it will be necessary that I should accept my
+part, and I refuse it."
+
+"What will you do?"
+
+"I shall warn the nurse.  I shall inform her exactly,
+completely--something which you have not done, I feel sure."
+
+"What?" cried Madame Dupont, wildly.  "You, a doctor, called into
+a family which gives you its entire confidence, which hands over
+to you its most terrible secrets, its most horrible miseries--you
+would betray them?"
+
+"It is not a betrayal," replied the man, sternly.  "It is
+something which the law commands; and even if the law were
+silent, I would not permit a family of worthy people to go astray
+so far as to commit a crime.  Either I give up the case, or you
+have the nursing of the child stopped."
+
+"You threaten!  You threaten!" cried the woman, almost frantic.
+"You abuse the power which your knowledge gives you!  You know
+that it is you whose attention we need by that little cradle; you
+know that we believe in you, and you threaten to abandon us!
+Your abandonment means the death of the child, perhaps!  And if I
+listen to you, if we stop the nursing of the child--that also
+means her death!"
+
+She flung up her hands like a mad creature.  "And yet there is no
+other means!  Ah, my God!  Why do you not let it be possible for
+me to sacrifice myself?  I would wish nothing more than to be
+able to do it--if only you might take my old body, my old flesh,
+my old bones--if only I might serve for something!  How quickly
+would I consent that it should infect me--this atrocious malady!
+How I would offer myself to it--with what joys, with what
+delights--however disgusting, however frightful it might be,
+however much to be dreaded!  Yes, I would take it without fear,
+without regret, if my poor old empty breasts might still give to
+the child the milk which would preserve its life!"
+
+She stopped; and George sprang suddenly from his seat, and fled
+to her and flung himself down upon his knees before her, mingling
+his sobs and tears with hers.
+
+The doctor rose and moved about the room, unable any longer to
+control his distress.  "Oh, the poor people!" he murmured to
+himself.  "The poor, poor people!"
+
+The storm passed, and Madame Dupont, who was a woman of strong
+character, got herself together.  Facing the doctor again, she
+said, "Come, sir, tell us what we have to do."
+
+"You must stop the nursing, and keep the woman here as a dry
+nurse, in order that she may not go away to carry the disease
+elsewhere.  Do not exaggerate to yourself the danger which will
+result to the child.  I am, in truth, extremely moved by your
+suffering, and I will do everything--I swear it to you--that your
+baby may recover as quickly as possible its perfect health.  I
+hope to succeed, and that soon.  And now I must leave you until
+tomorrow."
+
+"Thank you, Doctor, thank you," said Madame Dupont, faintly.
+
+The young man rose and accompanied the doctor to the door.  He
+could not bring himself to speak, but stood hanging his head
+until the other was gone.  Then he came to his mother.  He sought
+to embrace her, but she repelled him--without violence, but
+firmly.
+
+Her son stepped back and put his hands over his face.  "Forgive
+me!" he said, in a broken voice.  "Are we not unhappy enough,
+without hating each other?"
+
+His mother answered:  "God has punished you for your debauch by
+striking at your child."
+
+But, grief-stricken as the young man was, he could not believe
+that.  "Impossible!" he said.  "There is not even a man
+sufficiently wicked or unjust to commit the act which you
+attribute to your God!"
+
+"Yes," said his mother, sadly, "you believe in nothing."
+
+"I believe in no such God as that," he answered.
+
+A silence followed.  When it was broken, it was by the entrance
+of the nurse.  She had opened the door of the room and had been
+standing there for some moments, unheeded.  Finally she stepped
+forward.  "Madame," she said, "I have thought it over; I would
+rather go back to my home at once, and have only the five hundred
+francs."
+
+Madame Dupont stared at her in consternation.  "What is that you
+are saying?  You want to return to your home?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am," was the answer.
+
+"But," cried George, "only ten minutes ago you were not thinking
+of it."
+
+"What has happened since then?" demanded Madame Dupont.
+
+"I have thought it over."
+
+"Thought it over?"
+
+"Well, I am getting lonesome for my little one and for my
+husband."
+
+"In the last ten minutes?" exclaimed George.
+
+"There must be something else," his mother added.  "Evidently
+there must be something else."
+
+"No!" insisted the nurse.
+
+"But I say yes!"
+
+"Well, I'm afraid the air of Paris might not be good for me."
+
+"You had better wait and try it."
+
+"I would rather go back at once to my home."
+
+"Come, now," cried Madame Dupont, "tell us why?"
+
+"I have told you.  I have thought it over."
+
+"Thought what over?"
+
+"Well, I have thought."
+
+"Oh," cried the mother, "what a stupid reply!  'I have thought it
+over!  I have thought it over!'  Thought WHAT over, I want to
+know!"
+
+"Well, everything."
+
+"Don't you know how to tell us what?"
+
+"I tell you, everything."
+
+"Why," exclaimed Madame Dupont, "you are an imbecile!"
+
+George stepped between his mother and the nurse.  "Let me talk to
+her," he said.
+
+The woman came back to her old formula:  "I know that we're only
+poor country people."
+
+"Listen to me, nurse," said the young man.  "Only a little while
+ago you were afraid that we would send you away.  You were
+satisfied with the wages which my mother had fixed.  In addition
+to those wages we had promised you a good sum when you returned
+to your home.  Now you tell us that you want to go away.  You
+see?  All at once.  There must be some reason; let us understand
+it.  There must certainly be a reason.  Has anybody done anything
+to you?"
+
+"No, sir," said the woman, dropping her eyes.
+
+"Well, then?"
+
+"I have thought it over."
+
+George burst out, "Don't go on repeating always the same thing--
+'I have thought it over!'  That's not telling us anything."
+Controlling himself, he added, gently, "Come, tell me why you
+want to go away?"
+
+There was a silence.  "Well?" he demanded.
+
+"I tell you, I have thought--"
+
+George exclaimed in despair, "It's as if one were talking to a
+block of wood!"
+
+His mother took up the conversation again.  "You must realize,
+you have not the right to go away."
+
+The woman answered, "I WANT to go."
+
+"But I will not let you leave us."
+
+"No," interrupted George angrily, "let her go; we cannot fasten
+her here."
+
+"Very well, then," cried the exasperated mother, "since you want
+to go, go!  But I have certainly the right to say to you that you
+are as stupid as the animals on your farm!"
+
+"I don't say that I am not," answered the woman.
+
+"I will not pay you the month which has just begun, and you will
+pay your railroad fare for yourself."
+
+The other drew back with a look of anger.  "Oho!" she cried.
+"We'll see about that!"
+
+"Yes, we'll see about it!" cried George.  "And you will get out
+of here at once.  Take yourself off--I will have no more to do
+with you.  Good evening."
+
+"No, George," protested his mother, "don't lose control of
+yourself."  And then, with a great effort at calmness, "That
+cannot be serious, nurse!  Answer me."
+
+"I would rather go off right away to my home, and only have my
+five hundred francs."
+
+"WHAT?" cried George, in consternation.
+
+"What's that you are telling me?" exclaimed Madame Dupont.
+
+"Five hundred francs?" repeated her son.
+
+"What five hundred francs?" echoed the mother.
+
+"The five hundred francs you promised me," said the nurse.
+
+"We have promised you five hundred francs?  WE?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"When the child should be weaned, and if we should be satisfied
+with you!  That was our promise."
+
+"No.  You said you would give them to me when I was leaving.  Now
+I am leaving, and I want them."
+
+Madame Dupont drew herself up, haughtily.  "In the first place,"
+she said, "kindly oblige me by speaking to me in another tone; do
+you understand?"
+
+The woman answered, "You have nothing to do but give me my money,
+and I will say nothing more."
+
+George went almost beside himself with rage at this.  "Oh, it's
+like that?" he shouted.  "Very well; I'll show you!"  And he
+sprang to the door and opened it.
+
+But the nurse never budged.  "Give me my five hundred francs!"
+she said.
+
+George seized her by the arm and shoved her toward the door.
+"You clear out of here, do you understand me?  And as quickly as
+you can!"
+
+The woman shook her arm loose, and sneered into his face.  "Come
+now, you--you can talk to me a little more politely, eh?"
+
+"Will you go?" shouted George, completely beside himself.  "Will
+you go, or must I go out and look for a policeman?"
+
+"A policeman!" demanded the woman.  "For what?"
+
+"To put you outside!  You are behaving yourself like a thief."
+
+"A thief?  I?  What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that you are demanding money which doesn't belong to
+you."
+
+"More than that," broke in Madame Dupont, "you are destroying
+that poor little baby!  You are a wicked woman!"
+
+"I will put you out myself!" shouted George, and seized her by
+the arm again.
+
+"Oh, it's like that, is it?" retorted the nurse.  "Then you
+really want me to tell you why I am going away?"
+
+"Yes, tell me!" cried he.
+
+His mother added, "Yes, yes!"
+
+She would have spoken differently had she chanced to look behind
+her and seen Henriette, who at that moment appeared in the
+doorway.  She had been about to go out, when her attention had
+been caught by the loud voices.  She stood now, amazed, clasping
+her hands together, while the nurse, shaking her fist first at
+Madame Dupont and then at her son, cried loudly, "Very well!  I'm
+going away because I don't want to catch a filthy disease here!"
+
+"HUSH!" cried Madame Dupont, and sprang toward her, her hands
+clenched as if she would choke her.
+
+"Be silent!" cried George, wild with terror.
+
+But the woman rushed on without dropping her voice, "Oh, you need
+not be troubling yourselves for fear anyone should overhear!  All
+the world knows it!  Your other servants were listening with me
+at your door!  They heard every word your doctor said!"
+
+"Shut up!" screamed George.
+
+Her mother seized the woman fiercely by the arm.  "Hold your
+tongue!" she hissed.
+
+But again the other shook herself loose.  She was powerful, and
+now her rage was not to be controlled.  She waved her hands in
+the air, shouting, "Let me be, let me be!  I know all about your
+brat--that you will never be able to raise it--that it's rotten
+because it's father has a filthy disease he got from a woman of
+the street!"
+
+She got no farther.  She was interrupted by a frenzied shriek
+from Henriette.  The three turned, horrified, just in time to see
+her fall forward upon the floor, convulsed.
+
+"My God!" cried George.  He sprang toward her, and tried to lift
+her, but she shrank from him, repelling him with a gesture of
+disgust, of hatred, of the most profound terror.  "Don't touch
+me!" she screamed, like a maniac.  "Don't touch me!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+It was in vain that Madame Dupont sought to control her daughter-
+in-law.  Henriette was beside herself, frantic, she could not be
+brought to listen to any one.  She rushed into the other room,
+and when the older woman followed her, shrieked out to be left
+alone.  Afterwards, she fled to her own room and barred herself
+in, and George and his mother waited distractedly for hours until
+she should give some sign.
+
+Would she kill herself, perhaps?  Madame Dupont hovered on guard
+about the door of the nursery for fear that the mother in her fit
+of insanity might attempt some harm to her child.
+
+The nurse had slunk away abashed when she saw the consequences of
+her outburst.  By the time she had got her belongings packed, she
+had recovered her assurance.  She wanted her five hundred; also
+she wanted her wages and her railroad fare home.  She wanted them
+at once, and she would not leave until she got them.  George and
+his mother, in the midst of all their anguish of mind, had to go
+through a disgusting scene with this coarse and angry woman.
+
+They had no such sum of money in the house, and the nurse refused
+to accept a check.  She knew nothing about a check.  It was so
+much paper, and might be some trick that they were playing on
+her.  She kept repeating her old formula, "I am nothing but a
+poor country woman."  Nor would she be contented with the promise
+that she would receive the money the next day.  She seemed to be
+afraid that if she left the house she would be surrendering her
+claim.  So at last the distracted George to sally forth and
+obtain the cash from some tradesmen in the neighborhood.
+
+The woman took her departure.  They made her sign a receipt in
+full for all claims and they strove to persuade themselves that
+this made them safe; but in their hearts they had no real
+conviction of safety.  What was the woman's signature, or her
+pledged word, against the cupidity of her husband and relatives.
+Always she would have the dreadful secret to hold over them, and
+so they would live under the shadow of possible blackmail.
+
+Later in the day Henriette sent for her mother-in-law.  She was
+white, her eyes were swollen with weeping, and she spoke in a
+voice choked with sobs.  She wished to return at once to her
+father's home, and to take little Gervaise with her.  Madame
+Dupont cried out in horror at this proposition, and argued and
+pleaded and wept--but all to no purpose.  The girl was immovable.
+She would not stay under her husband's roof, and she would take
+her child with her.  It was her right, and no one could refuse
+her.
+
+The infant had been crying for hours, but that made no
+difference.  Henriette insisted that a cab should be called at
+once.
+
+So she went back to the home of Monsieur Loches and told him the
+hideous story.  Never before in her life had she discussed such
+subjects with any one, but now in her agitation she told her
+father all.  As George had declared to the doctor, Monsieur
+Loches was a person of violent temper; at this revelation, at the
+sight of his daughter's agony, he was almost beside himself.  His
+face turned purple, the veins stood out on his forehead; a
+trembling seized him.  He declared that he would kill George--
+there was nothing else to do.  Such a scoundrel should not be
+permitted to live.
+
+The effort which Henriette had to make to restrain him had a
+calming effect upon herself.  Bitter and indignant as she was,
+she did not want George to be killed.  She clung to her father,
+beseeching him to promise her that he would not do such a thing;
+and all that day and evening she watched him, unwilling to let
+him out of her sight.
+
+There was a matter which claimed her immediate attention, and
+which helped to withdraw them from the contemplation of their own
+sufferings.  The infant must be fed and cared for--the unhappy
+victim of other people's sins, whose life was now imperiled.  A
+dry nurse must be found at once, a nurse competent to take every
+precaution and give the child every chance.  This nurse must be
+informed of the nature of the trouble--another matter which
+required a great deal of anxious thought.
+
+That evening came Madame Dupont, tormented by anxiety about the
+child's welfare, and beseeching permission to help take care of
+it.  It was impossible to refuse such a request.  Henriette could
+not endure to see her, but the poor grandmother would come and
+sit for hours in the nursery, watching the child and the nurse,
+in silent agony.
+
+This continued for days, while poor George wandered about at
+home, suffering such torment of mind as can hardly be imagined.
+Truly, in these days he paid for his sins; he paid a thousand-
+fold in agonized and impotent regret.  He looked back upon the
+course of his life, and traced one by one the acts which had led
+him and those he loved into this nightmare of torment.  He would
+have been willing to give his life if he could have undone those
+acts.  But avenging nature offered him no such easy deliverance
+as that.  We shudder as we read the grim words of the Jehovah of
+the ancient Hebrews; and yet not all the learning of modern times
+has availed to deliver us from the cruel decree, that the sins of
+the fathers shall be visited upon the children.
+
+George wrote notes to his wife, imploring her forgiveness.  He
+poured out all his agony and shame to her, begging her to see him
+just once, to give him a chance to plead his defense.  It was not
+much of a defense, to be sure; it was only that he had done no
+worse than the others did--only that he was a wretched victim of
+ignorance.  But he loved her, he had proven that he loved her,
+and he pleaded that for the sake of their child she would forgive
+him.
+
+When all this availed nothing, he went to see the doctor, whose
+advice he had so shamefully neglected.  He besought this man to
+intercede for him--which the doctor, of course, refused to do.
+It was an extra-medical matter, he said, and George was absurd to
+expect him to meddle in it.
+
+But, as a matter of fact, the doctor had already been
+interceding--he had gone farther in pleading George's cause than
+he was willing to have George know.  For Monsieur Loches had paid
+him a visit--his purpose being to ask the doctor to continue
+attendance upon the infant, and also to give Henriette a
+certificate which she could use in her suit for a divorce from
+her husband.
+
+So inevitably there had been a discussion of the whole question
+between the two men.  The doctor had granted the first request,
+but refused the second.  In the first place, he said, there was a
+rule of professional secrecy which would prevent him.  And when
+the father-in-law requested to know if the rule of professional
+secrecy compelled him to protect a criminal against honest
+people, the doctor answered that even if his ethics permitted it,
+he would still refuse the request.  "I would reproach myself
+forever," he said, "if I had aided you to obtain such a divorce."
+
+"Then," cried the old man, vehemently, "because you profess such
+and such theories, because the exercise of your profession makes
+you the constant witness of such miseries--therefore it is
+necessary that my daughter should continue to bear that man's
+name all her life!"
+
+The doctor answered, gently, "Sir, I understand and respect your
+grief.  But believe me, you are not in a state of mind to decide
+about these matters now."
+
+"You are mistaken," declared the other, controlling himself with
+an effort.  "I have been thinking about nothing else for days.  I
+have discussed it with my daughter, and she agrees with me.
+Surely, sir, you cannot desire that my daughter should continue
+to live with a man who has struck her so brutal, so cowardly, a
+blow."
+
+"If I refuse your request," the doctor answered, "it is in the
+interest of your daughter."  Then, seeing the other's excitement
+returning, he continued, "In your state of mind, Monsieur Loches,
+I know that you will probably be abusing me before five minutes
+has passed.  But that will not trouble me.  I have seen many
+cases.  And since I have made the mistake of letting myself be
+trapped into this discussion, I must explain to you the reason
+for my attitude.  You ask of me a certificate so that you may
+prove in court that your son-in-law is afflicted with syphilis."
+
+"Precisely," said the other.
+
+"And have you not reflected upon this--that at the same time you
+will be publicly attesting that your daughter has been exposed to
+the contagion?  With such an admission, an admission officially
+registered in the public records, do you believe that she will
+find it easy to re-marry later on?"
+
+"She will never re-marry," said the father.
+
+"She says that today, but can you affirm that she will say the
+same thing five years from now, ten years from now?  I tell you
+you will not obtain that divorce, because I will most certainly
+refuse you the necessary certificate."
+
+"Then," cried the other, "I will find other means of establishing
+proofs.  I will have the child examined by another doctor!"
+
+The other answered.  "Then you do not find that that poor little
+one has been already sufficiently handicapped at the outset of
+its life?  Your granddaughter has a physical defect.  Do you wish
+to add to that a certificate of hereditary syphilis, which will
+follow her all her life?"
+
+Monsieur Loches sprang from his chair.  "You mean that if the
+victims seek to defend themselves, they will be struck the
+harder!  You mean that the law gives me no weapon against a man
+who, knowing his condition, takes a young girl, sound, trusting,
+innocent, and befouls her with the result of his debauches--makes
+her the mother of a poor little creature, whose future is such
+that those who love her the most do not know whether they ought
+to pray for her life, or for her immediate deliverance?  Sir," he
+continued, in his orator's voice, "that man has inflicted upon
+the woman he has married a supreme insult.  He has made her the
+victim of the most odious assault.  He has degraded her--he has
+brought her, so to speak, into contact with the woman of the
+streets.  He has created between her and that common woman I know
+not what mysterious relationship.  It is the poisoned blood of
+the prostitute which poisons my daughter and her child; that
+abject creature, she lives, she lives in us!  She belongs to our
+family--he has given her a seat at our hearth!  He has soiled the
+imagination and the thoughts of my poor child, as he has soiled
+her body.  He has united forever in her soul the idea of love
+which she has placed so high, with I know not what horrors of the
+hospitals.  He has tainted her in her dignity and her modesty, in
+her love as well as in her baby.  He has struck her down with
+physical and moral decay, he has overwhelmed her with vileness.
+And yet the law is such, the customs of society are such, that
+the woman cannot separate herself from that man save by the aid
+of legal proceedings whose scandal will fall upon herself and
+upon her child!"
+
+Monsieur Loches had been pacing up and down the room as he spoke,
+and now he clenched his fists in sudden fury.
+
+"Very well!  I will not address myself to the law.  Since I
+learned the truth I have been asking myself if it was not my duty
+to find that monster and to put a bullet into his head, as one
+does to a mad dog.  I don't know what weakness, what cowardice,
+has held me back, and decided me to appeal to the law.  Since the
+law will not protect me, I will seek justice for myself.  Perhaps
+his death will be a good warning for the others!"
+
+The doctor shrugged his shoulders, as if to say that this was no
+affair of his and that he would not try to interfere.  But he
+remarked, quietly:  "You will be tried for your life."
+
+"I shall be acquitted!" cried the other.
+
+"Yes, but after a public revelation of all your miseries.  You
+will make the scandal greater, the miseries greater--that is all.
+And how do you know but that on the morrow of your acquittal, you
+will find yourself confronting another court, a higher and more
+severe one?  How do you know but that your daughter, seized at
+last by pity for the man you have killed, will not demand to know
+by what right you have acted so, by what right you have made an
+orphan of her child?  How can you know but that her child also
+may some day demand an accounting of you?"
+
+Monsieur Loches let his hands fall, and stood, a picture of
+crushed despair.  "Tell me then," he said, in a faint voice,
+"what ought I to do?"
+
+"Forgive!"
+
+For a while the doctor sat looking at him.  "Sir," he said, at
+last, "tell me one thing.  You are inflexible; you feel you have
+the right to be inflexible.  But are you really so certain that
+it was not your duty, once upon a time, to save your daughter
+from the possibility of such misfortune?"
+
+"What?" cried the other.  "My duty?  What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean this, sir.  When that marriage was being discussed, you
+certainly took precautions to inform yourself about the financial
+condition of your future son-in-law.  You demanded that he should
+prove to you that his stocks and bonds were actual value, listed
+on the exchange.  Also, you obtained some information about his
+character.  In fact, you forgot only one point, the most
+important of all--that was, to inquire if he was in good health.
+You never did that."
+
+The father-in-law's voice had become faint.  "No," he said.
+
+"But why not?"
+
+"Because that is not the custom."
+
+"Very well, but that ought to be the custom.  Surely the father
+of a family, before he gives his daughter to a man, should take
+as much precaution as a business concern which accepts an
+employee."
+
+"You are right," was the reply, "there should be a law."  The man
+spoke as a deputy, having authority in these matters.
+
+But the doctor cried, "No, no, sir!  Do not make a new law.  We
+have too many already.  There is no need of it.  It would suffice
+that people should know a little better what syphilis is.  The
+custom would establish itself very quickly for a suitor to add to
+all the other documents which he presents, a certificate of a
+doctor, as proof that he could be received into a family without
+bringing a pestilence with him.  That would be very simple.  Once
+let the custom be established, then the suitor would go to the
+doctor for a certificate of health, just as he goes to the priest
+for a certificate that he has confessed; and by that means you
+would prevent a great deal of suffering in the world.  Or let me
+put it another way, sir.  Nowadays, before you conclude a
+marriage, you get the lawyers of the two families together.  It
+would be of at least equal importance to get their two doctors
+together.  You see, sir, your inquiry concerning your son-in-law
+was far from complete.  So your daughter may fairly ask you, why
+you, being a man, being a father who ought to know these things,
+did not take as much care of her health as you took of her
+fortune.  So it is, sir, that I say to you, forgive!"
+
+But Monsieur Loches said again, "Never!"
+
+And again the doctor sat and watched him for a minute.  "Come,
+sir," he began, finally, "since it is necessary to employ the
+last argument, I will do so.  To be so severe and so pitiless--
+are you yourself without sin?"
+
+The other answered, "I have never had a shameful disease."
+
+"I do not ask you that," interrupted the doctor.  "I ask you if
+you have never exposed yourself to the chance of having it."  And
+then, reading the other's face, he went on, in a tone of quiet
+certainty.  "Yes, you have exposed yourself.  Then, sir, it was
+not virtue that you had; it was good fortune.  That is one of the
+things which exasperate me the most--that term 'shameful disease'
+which you have just used.  Like all other diseases, that is one
+of our misfortunes, and it is never shameful to be unfortunate--
+even if one has deserved it."  The doctor paused, and then with
+some excitement he went on:  "Come, sir, come, we must understand
+each other.  Among men the most exacting, among those who with
+their middle-class prudery dare not pronounce the name of
+syphilis, or who make the most terrifying faces, the most
+disgusted, when they consent to speak of it--who regard the
+syphilitic as sinners--I should wish to know how many there are
+who have never exposed thenselves to a similar misadventure.
+They and they alone have the right to speak.  How many are there?
+Among a thousand men, are there four?  Very well, then.
+Excepting those four, between all the rest and the syphilitic
+there is nothing but the difference of chance."
+
+There came into the doctor's voice at this moment a note of
+intense feeling; for these were matters of which evidence came to
+him every day.  "I tell you, sir, that such people are deserving
+of sympathy, because they are suffering.  If they have committed
+a fault, they have at least the plea that they are expiating it.
+No, sir, let me hear no more of that hypocrisy.  Recall your own
+youth, sir.  That which afflicts your son-in-law, you have
+deserved it just as much as he--more than he, perhaps.
+Therefore, have pity on him; have for him the toleration which
+the unpunished criminal ought to have for the criminal less
+fortunate than himself upon whom the penalty has fallen.  Is that
+not so?"
+
+Monsieur Loches had been listening to this discourse with the
+feeling of a thief before the bar.  There was nothing that he
+could answer.  "Sir," he stammered, "as you present this thing to
+me--"
+
+"But am I not right?" insisted the doctor.
+
+"Perhaps you are," the other admitted.  "But--I cannot say all
+that to my daughter, to persuade her to go back to her husband."
+
+"You can give her other arguments," was the answer.
+
+"What arguments, in God's name?"
+
+"There is no lack of them.  You will say to her that a separation
+would be a misfortune for all; that her husband is the only one
+in the world who would be devoted enough to help her save her
+child.  You will say to her that out of the ruins of her first
+happiness she can build herself another structure, far stronger.
+And, sir, you will add to that whatever your good heart may
+suggest--and we will arrange so that the next child of the pair
+shall be sound and vigorous."
+
+Monsieur Loches received this announcement with the same surprise
+that George himself had manifested.  "Is that possible?" he
+asked.
+
+The doctor cried:  "Yes, yes, yes--a thousand times yes!  There
+is a phrase which I repeat on every occasion, and which I would
+wish to post upon the walls.  It is that syphilis is an imperious
+mistress, who only demands that one should recognize her power.
+She is terrible for those who think her insignificant, and gentle
+with those who know how dangerous she is.  You know that kind of
+mistress--who is only vexed when she is neglected.  You may tell
+this to your daughter--you will restore her to the arms of her
+husband, from whom she has no longer anything to fear, and I will
+guarantee that you will be a happy grandfather two years from
+now."
+
+Monsieur Loches at last showed that he was weakened in his
+resolution.
+
+"Doctor," he said, "I do not know that I can ever go so far as
+forgiveness, but I promise you that I will do no irreparable act,
+and that I will not oppose a reconciliation if after the lapse of
+some time--I cannot venture to say how long--my poor child should
+make up her mind to a reconciliation."
+
+"Very good," said the other.  "But let me add this:  If you have
+another daughter, take care to avoid the fault which you
+committed when you married off the first."
+
+"But," said the old man, "I did not know."
+
+"Ah, surely!" cried the other.  "You did not know!  You are a
+father, and you did not know!  You are a deputy, you have assumed
+the responsibility and the honor of making our laws--and you did
+not know!  You are ignorant about syphilis, just as you probably
+are ignorant about alcoholism and tuberculosis."
+
+"No," exclaimed the other, quickly.
+
+"Very well," said the doctor, "I will leave you out, if you wish.
+I am talking of the others, the five hundred, and I don't know
+how many more, who are there in the Chamber of Deputies, and who
+call themselves representatives of the people.  They are not able
+to find a single hour to discuss these three cruel gods, to which
+egotism and indifference make every day such frightful human
+sacrifices.  They have not sufficient leisure to combat this
+ferocious trinity, which destroys every day thousands of lives.
+Alcoholism!  It would be necessary to forbid the manufacture of
+poisons, and to restrict the number of licenses; but as one has
+fear of the great distillers, who are rich and powerful, and of
+the little dealers, who are the masters of universal suffrage,
+one puts one's conscience to sleep by lamenting the immorality of
+the working-class, and publishing little pamphlets and sermons.
+Imbeciles! . . .Tuberculosis!  Everybody knows the true remedy,
+which would be the paying of sufficient wages, and the tearing
+down of the filthy tenements into which the laborers are packed--
+those who are the most useful and the most unfortunate among our
+population!  But needless to say, no one wants that remedy, so we
+go round begging the workingmen not to spit on the sidewalks.
+Wonderful!  But syphilis--why do you not occupy yourself with
+that?  Why, since you have ministers whose duty it is to attend
+to all sorts of things, do you not have a minister to attend to
+the public health?"
+
+"My dear Doctor," responded Monsieur Loches, "you fall into the
+French habit of considering the government as the cause of all
+evils.  Show us the way, you learned gentlemen!  Since that is a
+matter about which you are informed, and we are ignorant, begin
+by telling us what measures you believe to be necessary."
+
+"Ah, ah!" exclaimed the other.  "That's fine, indeed!  It was
+about eighteen years ago that a project of that nature, worked
+out by the Academy of Medicine, and approved by it UNANIMOUSLY,
+was sent to the proper minister.  We have not yet heard his
+reply."
+
+"You really believe," inquired Monsieur Loches, in some
+bewilderment, "you believe that there are some measures--"
+
+"Sir," broke in the doctor, "before we get though, you are going
+to suggest some measures yourself.  Let me tell you what happened
+today.  When I received your card I did not know that you were
+the father-in-law of George Dupont.  I say that you were a
+deputy, and I thought that you wanted to get some information
+about these matters.  There was a woman patient waiting to see
+me, and I kept her in my waiting-room--saying to myself, "This is
+just the sort of person that our deputies ought to talk to."
+
+The doctor paused for a moment, then continued:  "Be reassured, I
+will take care of your nerves.  This patient has no trouble that
+is apparent to the eye.  She is simply an illustration of the
+argument I have been advancing--that our worst enemy is
+ignorance.  Ignorance--you understand me?  Since I have got you
+here, sir, I am going to hold you until I have managed to cure a
+little of your ignorance!  For I tell you, sir, it is a thing
+which drives me to distraction--we MUST do something about these
+conditions!  Take this case, for example.  Here is a woman who is
+very seriously infected.  I told her--well, wait; you shall see
+for yourself.
+
+The doctor went to the door and summoned into the room a woman
+whom Monsieur Loches had noticed waiting there.  She was verging
+on old age, small, frail, and ill-nourished in appearance, poorly
+dressed, and yet with a suggestion of refinement about her.  She
+stood near the door, twisting her hands together nervously, and
+shrinking from the gaze of the strange gentleman.  The doctor
+began in an angry voice.  "Did I not tell you to come and see me
+once every eight days?  Is that not true?"
+
+The woman answered, in a faint voice, "Yes, sir."
+
+"Well," he exclaimed, "and how long has it been since you were
+here?"
+
+"Three months, sir."
+
+"Three months!  And you believe that I can take care of you under
+such conditions?  I give you up!  Do you understand?  You
+discourage me, you discourage me."  There was a pause.  Then,
+seeing the woman's suffering, he began, in a gentler tone, "Come
+now, what is the reason that you have not come?  Didn't you know
+that you have a serious disease--most serious?"
+
+"Oh, yes, sir," replied the woman, "I know that very well--since
+my husband died of it."
+
+The doctor's voice bore once again its note of pity.  "Your
+husband died of it?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"He took no care of himself?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"And was not that a warning to you?"
+
+"Doctor," the woman replied, "I would ask nothing better than to
+come as often as you told me, but the cost is too great."
+
+"How--what cost?  You were coming to my free clinic."
+
+"Yes, sir," replied the woman, "but that's during working hours,
+and then it is a long way from home.  There are so many sick
+people, and I have to wait my turn,  It is in the morning--
+sometimes I lose a whole day--and then my employer is annoyed,
+and he threatens to turn me off.  It is things like that that
+keep people from coming, until they dare not put it off any
+longer.  Then, too, sir--" the woman stopped, hesitating.
+
+"Well," demanded the doctor.
+
+"Oh, nothing, sir," she stammered.  "You have been too good to me
+already."
+
+"Go on," commanded the other.  "Tell me."
+
+"Well," murmured the woman, "I know I ought not to put on airs,
+but you see I have not always been so poor.  Before my husband's
+misfortune, we were well fixed.  So you see, I have a little
+pride.  I have always managed to take care of myself.  I am not a
+woman of the streets, and to stand around like that, with
+everybody else, to be obliged to tell all one's miseries out loud
+before the world!  I am wrong, I know it perfectly well; I argue
+with myself--but all the same, it's hard, sir; I assure you, it
+is truly hard."
+
+"Poor woman!" said the doctor; and for a while there was a
+silence.  Then he asked:  "It was your husband who brought you
+the disease?"
+
+"Yes, sir," was the reply.  "Everything which happened to us came
+from him.  We were living in the country when he got the disease.
+He went half crazy.  He no longer knew how to manage his affairs.
+He gave orders here and there for considerable sums.  We were not
+able to find the money."
+
+"Why did he not undergo treatment?"
+
+"He didn't know then.  We were sold out, and we came to Paris.
+But we hadn't a penny.  He decided to go to the hospital for
+treatment."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"Why, they looked him over, but they refused him any medicine."
+
+"How was that?"
+
+"Because we had been in Paris only three months.  If one hasn't
+been a resident six months, one has no right to free medicine."
+
+"Is that true?" broke in Monsieur Loches quickly.
+
+"Yes," said the doctor, "that's the rule."
+
+"So you see," said the woman, "it was not our fault."
+
+"You never had children?" inquired the doctor.
+
+"I was never able to bring one to birth," was the answer.  "My
+husband was taken just at the beginning of our marriage--it was
+while he was serving in the army.  You know, sir--there are women
+about the garrisons--"  She stopped, and there was a long
+silence.
+
+"Come," said the doctor, "that's all right.  I will arrange it
+with you.  You can come here to my office, and you can come on
+Sunday mornings."  And as the poor creature started to express
+her gratitude, he slipped a coin into her hand.  "Come, come;
+take it," he said gruffly.  "You are not going to play proud with
+me.  No, no, I have no time to listen to you.  Hush!"  And he
+pushed her out of the door.
+
+Then he turned to the deputy.  "You heard her story, sir," he
+said.  "Her husband was serving his time in the army; it was you
+law-makers who compelled him to do that.  And there are women
+about the garrisons--you heard how her voice trembled as she said
+that?  Take my advice, sir, and look up the statistics as to the
+prevalence of this disease among our soldiers.  Come to some of
+my clinics, and let me introduce you to other social types.  You
+don't care very much about soldiers, perhaps--they belong to the
+lower classes, and you think of them as rough men.  But let me
+show you what is going on among our college students--among the
+men our daughters are some day to marry.  Let me show you the
+women who prey upon them!  Perhaps, who knows--I can show you the
+very woman who was the cause of all the misery in your own
+family!"
+
+And as Monsieur Loches rose from his chair, the doctor came to
+him and took him by the hand.  "Promise me, sir," he said,
+earnestly, "that you will come back and let me teach you more
+about these matters.  It is a chance that I must not let go--the
+first time in my life that I ever got hold of a real live deputy!
+Come and make a study of this subject, and let us try to work out
+some sensible plan, and get seriously to work to remedy these
+frightful evils!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+George lived with his mother after Henriette had left his home.
+He was wretchedly unhappy and lonely.  He could find no interest
+in any of the things which had pleased him before.  He was
+ashamed to meet any of his friends, because he imagined that
+everyone must have heard the dreadful story--or because he was
+not equal to making up explanations for his mournful state.  He
+no longer cared much about his work.  What was the use of making
+a reputation or earning large fees when one had nothing to spend
+them for?
+
+All his thoughts were fixed upon the wife and child he had lost.
+He was reminded of Henriette in a thousand ways, and each way
+brought him a separate pang of grief.  He had never realized how
+much he had come to depend upon her in every little thing--until
+now, when her companionship was withdrawn from him, and
+everything seemed to be a blank.  He would come home at night,
+and opposite to him at the dinner-table would be his mother,
+silent and spectral.  How different from the days when Henriette
+was there, radiant and merry, eager to be told everything that
+had happened to him through the day!
+
+There was also his worry about little Gervaise.  He might no
+longer hear how she was doing, for he could not get up courage to
+ask his mother the news.  Thus poor George was paying for his
+sins.  He could make no complaints against the price, however
+high--only sometimes he wondered whether he would be able to pay
+it.  There were times of such discouragement that he thought of
+different ways of killing himself.
+
+A curious adventure befell him during this period.  He was
+walking one day in the park, when he saw approaching a girl whose
+face struck him as familiar.  At first he could not recollect
+where he had seen her.  It was only when she was nearly opposite
+him that he realized--it was the girl who had been the cause of
+all his misery!
+
+He tried to look away, but he was too late.  Her eyes had caught
+his, and she nodded and then stopped, exclaiming, "Why, how do
+you do?"
+
+George had to face her.  "How do you do?" he responded, weakly.
+
+She held out her hand and he had to take it, but there was not
+much welcome in his clasp.  "Where have you been keeping
+yourself?" she asked.  Then, as he hesitated, she laughed good-
+naturedly, "What's the matter?  You don't seem glad to see me."
+
+The girl--Therese was her name--had a little package under her
+arm, as if she had been shopping.  She was not well dressed, as
+when George had met her before, and doubtless she thought that
+was the reason for his lack of cordiality.  This made him rather
+ashamed, and so, only half realizing what he was doing, he began
+to stroll along with her.
+
+"Why did you never come to see me again?" she asked.
+
+George hesitated.  "I--I--" he stammered--"I've been married
+since then."
+
+She laughed.  "Oh!  So that's it!"  And then, as they came to a
+bench under some trees, "Won't you sit down a while?"  There was
+allurement in her glance, but it made George shudder.  It was
+incredible to him that he had ever been attracted by this crude
+girl.  The spell was now broken completely.
+
+She quickly saw that something was wrong.  "You don't seem very
+cheerful," she said.  "What's the matter?"
+
+And the man, staring at her, suddenly blurted out, "Don't you
+know what you did to me?"
+
+"What I did to you?" Therese repeated wonderingly.
+
+"You must know!" he insisted.
+
+And then she tried to meet his gaze and could not.  "Why--" she
+stammered.
+
+There was silence between them.  When George spoke again his
+voice was low and trembling.  "You ruined my whole life," he
+said--"not only mine, but my family's.  How could you do it?"
+
+She strove to laugh it off.  "A cheerful topic for an afternoon
+stroll!"
+
+For a long while George did not answer.  Then, almost in a
+whisper, he repeated, "How could you do it?"
+
+"Some one did it to me first," was the response.  "A man!"
+
+"Yes," said George, "but he didn't know."
+
+"How can you tell whether he knew or not?"
+
+"You knew?" he inquired, wonderingly.
+
+Therese hesitated.  "Yes, I knew," she said at last, defiantly.
+"I have known for years."
+
+"And I'm not the only man."
+
+She laughed.  "I guess not!"
+
+There followed a long pause.  At last he resumed, "I don't want
+to blame you; there's nothing to be gained by that; it's done,
+and can't be undone.  But sometimes I wonder about it.  I should
+like to understand--why did you do it?"
+
+"Why?  That's easy enough.  I did it because I have to live."
+
+"You live that way?" he exclaimed.
+
+"Why of course.  What did you think?"
+
+"I thought you were a--a--" He hesitated.
+
+"You thought I was respectable," laughed Therese.  "Well, that's
+just a little game I was playing on you."
+
+"But I didn't give you any money!" he argued.
+
+"Not that time," she said, "but I thought you would come back."
+
+He sat gazing at her.  "And you earn your living that way still?"
+he asked.  "When you know what's the matter with you!  When you
+know--"
+
+"What can I do?  I have to live, don't I?"
+
+"But don't you even take care of yourself?  Surely there must be
+some way, some place--"
+
+"The reformatory, perhaps," she sneered.  "No, thanks!  I'll go
+there when the police catch me, not before.  I know some girls
+that have tried that."
+
+"But aren't you afraid?" cried the man.  "And the things that
+will happen to you!  Have you ever talked to a doctor--or read a
+book?"
+
+"I know," she said.  "I've seen it all.  If it comes to me, I'll
+go over the side of one of the bridges some dark night."
+
+George sat lost in thought.  A strange adventure it seemed to
+him--to meet this girl under such different circumstances!  It
+was as if he were watching a play from behind the scenes instead
+of in front.  If only he had had this new view in time--how
+different would have been his life!  And how terrible it was to
+think of the others who didn't know--the audience who were still
+sitting out in front, watching the spectacle, interested in it!"
+
+His thoughts came back to Therese.  He was curious about her and
+the life she lived.  "Tell me a little about it," he said.  "How
+you came to be doing this."  And he added, "Don't think I want to
+preach; I'd really like to understand."
+
+"Oh, it's a common story," she said--"nothing especially
+romantic.  I came to Paris when I was a girl.  My parents had
+died, and I had no friends, and I didn't know what to do.  I got
+a place as a nursemaid.  I was seventeen years old then, and I
+didn't know anything.  I believed what I was told, and I believed
+my employer.  His wife was ill in a hospital, and he said he
+wanted to marry me when she died.  Well, I liked him, and I was
+sorry for him--and then the first thing I knew I had a baby.  And
+then the wife came back, and I was turned off.  I had been a
+fool, of course.  If I had been in her place should have done
+just what she did."
+
+The girl was speaking in a cold, matter-of-fact voice, as of
+things about which she was no longer able to suffer.  "So, there
+I was--on the street," she went on.  "You have always had money,
+a comfortable home, education, friends to help you--all that.
+You can't imagine how it is to be in the world without any of
+these things.  I lived on my savings as long as I could; then I
+had to leave my baby in a foundling's home, and I went out to do
+my five hours on the boulevards.  You know the game, I have no
+doubt."
+
+Yes, George knew the game.  Somehow or other he no longer felt
+bitter towards this poor creature.  She was part of the system of
+which he was a victim also.  There was nothing to be gained by
+hating each other.  Just as the doctor said, what was needed was
+enlightenment.  "Listen," he said, "why don't you try to get
+cured?"
+
+"I haven't got the price," was the answer.
+
+"Well," he said, hesitatingly, "I know a doctor--one of the
+really good men.  He has a free clinic, and I've no doubt he
+would take you in if I asked him to."
+
+"YOU ask him?" echoed the other, looking at George in surprise.
+
+The young man felt somewhat uncomfortable.  He was not used to
+playing the role of the good Samaritan.  "I--I need not tell him
+about us," he stammered.  "I could just say that I met you.  I
+have had such a wretched time myself, I feel sorry for anybody
+that's in the same plight.  I should like to help you if I
+could."
+
+The girl sat staring before her, lost in thought.  "I have
+treated you badly, I guess," she said.  "I'm sorry.  I'm ashamed
+of myself."
+
+George took a pencil and paper from his pocket and wrote the
+doctor's address.  "Here it is," he said, in a business-like way,
+because he felt that otherwise he could become sentimental.  He
+was half tempted to tell the woman what had happened to him, and
+all about Henriette and the sick child; but he realized that that
+would not do.  So he rose and shook hands with her and left.
+
+The next time he saw the doctor he told him about this girl.  He
+decided to tell him the truth--having already made so many
+mistakes trying to conceal things.  The doctor agreed to treat
+the woman, making the condition that George promise not to see
+her again.
+
+The young man was rather shocked at this.  "Doctor," he
+exclaimed, "I assure you you are mistaken.  The thing you have in
+mind would be utterly impossible."
+
+"I know," said the other, "you think so.  But I think, young man,
+that I know more about life than you do.  When a man and a woman
+have once committed such a sin, it is easy for them to slip back.
+The less time they spend talking about their misfortunes, and
+being generous and forbearing to each other, the better for them
+both."
+
+"But, Doctor," cried George.  "I love Henriette!  I could not
+possibly love anyone else.  It would be horrible to me!"
+
+"Yes," said the doctor.  "But you are not living with Henriette.
+You are wandering round, not knowing what to do with yourself
+next."
+
+There was no need for anybody to tell George that.  "What do you
+think?" he asked abruptly.  "Is there any hope for me?"
+
+"I think there is," said the other, who, in spite of his
+resolution, had become a sort of ambassador for the unhappy
+husband.  He had to go to the Loches house to attend the child,
+and so he could not help seeing Henriette, and talking to her
+about the child's health and her own future.  He considered that
+George had had his lesson, and urged upon the young wife that he
+would be wiser in future, and safe to trust.
+
+George had indeed learned much.  He got new lessons every time he
+went to call at the physician's office--he could read them in the
+faces of the people he saw there.  One day when he was alone in
+the waiting-room, the doctor came out of his inner office,
+talking to an elderly gentleman, whom George recognized as the
+father of one of his classmates at college.  The father was a
+little shopkeeper, and the young man remembered how pathetically
+proud he had been of his son.  Could it be, thought George, that
+this old man was a victim of syphilis?
+
+But it was the son, and not the father, who was the subject of
+the consultation.  The old man was speaking in a deeply moved
+voice, and he stood so that George could not help hearing what he
+said.  "Perhaps you can't understand," he said, "just what it
+means to us--the hopes we had of that boy!  Such a fine fellow he
+was, and a good fellow, too, sir!  We were so proud of him; we
+had bled our veins to keep him in college--and now just see!"
+
+"Don't despair, sir," said the doctor, "we'll try to cure him."
+And he added with that same note of sorrow in his voice which
+George had heard, "Why did you wait so long before you brought
+the boy to me?"
+
+"How was I to know what he had?" cried the other.  "He didn't
+dare tell me, sir--he was afraid of my scolding him.  And in the
+meantime the disease was running its course.  When he realized
+that he had it, he went secretly to one of the quacks, who robbed
+him, and didn't cure him.  You know how it is, sir."
+
+"Yes, I know," said the doctor.
+
+"Such things ought not to be permitted," cried the old man.
+"What is our government about that it allows such things to go
+on?  Take the conditions there at the college where my poor boy
+was ruined.  At the very gates of the building these women are
+waiting for the lads!  Ought they to be permitted to debauch
+young boys only fifteen years old?  Haven't we got police enough
+to prevent a thing like that?  Tell me, sir!"
+
+"One would think so," said the doctor, patiently.
+
+"But is it that the police don't want to?"
+
+"No doubt they have the same excuse as all the rest--they don't
+know.  Take courage, sir; we have cured worse cases than your
+son's.  And some day, perhaps, we shall be able to change these
+conditions."
+
+So he went on with the man, leaving George with something to
+think about.  How much he could have told them about what had
+happened to that young fellow when only fifteen years old!  It
+had not been altogether the fault of the women who were lurking
+outside of the college gates; it was a fact that the boy's
+classmates had teased him and ridiculed him, had literally made
+his life a torment, until he had yielded to temptation.
+
+It was the old, old story of ignorant and unguided schoolboys all
+over the world!  They thought that to be chaste was to be weak
+and foolish; that a fellow was not a man unless he led a life of
+debauchery like the rest.  And what did they know about these
+dreadful diseases?  They had the most horrible superstitions--
+ideas of cures so loathsome that they could not be set down in
+print; ideas as ignorant and destructive as those of savages in
+the heart of Africa.  And you might hear them laughing and
+jesting about one another's condition.  They might be afflicted
+with diseases which would have the most terrible after-effects
+upon their whole lives and upon their families--diseases which
+cause tens of thousands of surgical operations upon women, and a
+large percentage of blindness and idiocy in children--and you
+might hear them confidently express the opinion that these
+diseases were no worse than a bad cold!
+
+And all this mass of misery and ignorance covered over and
+clamped down by a taboo of silence, imposed by the horrible
+superstition of sex-prudery!  George went out from the doctor's
+office trembling with excitement over this situation.  Oh, why
+had not some one warned him in time?  Why didn't the doctors and
+the teachers lift up their voices and tell young men about these
+frightful dangers?  He wanted to go out in the highways and
+preach it himself--except that he dared not, because he could not
+explain to the world his own sudden interest in this forbidden
+topic.
+
+These was only one person he dared to talk to:  that was his
+mother--to whom he ought to have talked many, many years before.
+He was moved to mention to her the interview he had overheard in
+the doctor's office.  In a sudden burst of grief he told her of
+his struggles and temptations; he pleaded with her to go to
+Henriette once more--to tell her these things, and try to make
+her realize that he alone was not to blame for them, that they
+were a condition which prevailed everywhere, that the only
+difference between her husband and other men was that he had had
+the misfortune to be caught.
+
+There was pressure being applied to Henriette from several sides.
+After all, what could she do?  She was comfortable in her
+father's home, so far as the physical side of things went; but
+she knew that all her friends were gossiping and speculating
+about her separation from her husband, and sooner or later she
+would have to make up her mind, either to separate permanently
+from George or to return to him.  There was not much happiness
+for her in the thought of getting a divorce from a man whom deep
+in her heart she loved.  She would be practically a widow the
+rest of her life, and the home in which poor little Gervaise
+would be brought up would not be a cheerful one.
+
+George was ready to offer any terms, if only she would come back
+to his home.  They might live separate lives for as long as
+Henriette wished.  They would have no more children until the
+doctor declared it was quite safe; and in the meantime he would
+be humble and patient, and would try his best to atone for the
+wrong that he had done her.
+
+To these arguments Madame Dupont added others of her own.  She
+told the girl some things which through bitter experience she had
+learned about the nature and habits of men; things that should be
+told to every girl before marriage, but which almost all of them
+are left to find out afterwards, with terrible suffering and
+disillusionment.  Whatever George's sins may have been, he was a
+man who had been chastened by suffering, and would know how to
+value a woman's love for the rest of his life.  Not all men knew
+that--not even those who had been fortunate in escaping from the
+so-called "shameful disease."
+
+Henriette was also hearing arguments from her father, who by this
+time had had time to think things over, and had come to the
+conclusion that the doctor was right.  He had noted his son-in-
+law's patience and penitence, and had also made sure that in
+spite of everything Henriette still loved him.  The baby
+apparently was doing well; and the Frenchman, with his strong
+sense of family ties, felt it a serious matter to separate a
+child permanently from its father.  So in the end he cast the
+weight of his influence in favor of a reconciliation, and
+Henriette returned to her husband, upon terms which the doctor
+laid down.
+
+The doctor played in these negotiations the part which he had not
+been allowed to play in the marriage.  For the deputy was now
+thoroughly awake to the importance of the duty he owed his
+daughter.  In fact, he had become somewhat of a "crank" upon the
+whole subject.  He had attended several of the doctor's clinics,
+and had read books and pamphlets on the subject of syphilis, and
+was now determined that there should be some practical steps
+towards reform.
+
+At the outset, he had taken the attitude of the average
+legislator, that the thing to do was to strengthen the laws
+against prostitution, and to enforce them more strictly.  He
+echoed the cry of the old man whom George had heard in the
+doctor's office:  "Are there not enough police?"
+
+"We must go to the source," he declared.  "We must proceed
+against these miserable women--veritable poisoners that they
+are!"
+
+He really thought this was going to the source!  But the doctor
+was quick to answer his arguments.  "Poisoners?" he said.  "You
+forget that they have first been poisoned.  Every one of these
+women who communicates the disease has first received it from
+some man."
+
+Monsieur Loches advanced to his second idea, to punish the men.
+But the doctor had little interest in this idea either.  He had
+seen it tried so many times--such a law could never be enforced.
+What must come first was education, and by this means a
+modification of morals.  People must cease to treat syphilis as a
+mysterious evil, of which not even the name could be pronounced.
+
+"But," objected the other, "one cannot lay it bare to children in
+our educational institutions!"
+
+"Why not?" asked the doctor.
+
+"Because, sir, there are curiosities which it would be imprudent
+to awaken."
+
+The doctor became much excited whenever he heard this argument.
+"You believe that you are preventing these curiosities from
+awakening?" he demanded.  "I appeal to those--both men and
+women--who have passed through colleges and boarding schools!
+Such curiosities cannot be smothered, and they satisfy themselves
+as best they can, basely, vilely.  I tell you, sir, there is
+nothing immoral about the act which perpetuates life by means of
+love.  But we organize around it, so far as concerns our
+children, a gigantic and rigorous conspiracy of silence.  The
+worthy citizen takes his daughter and his son to popular musical
+comedies, where they listen to things which would make a monkey
+blush; but it is forbidden to discuss seriously before the young
+that act of love which people seem to think they should only know
+of through blasphemies and profanations!  Either that act is a
+thing of which people can speak without blushing--or else, sir,
+it is a matter for the innuendoes of the cabaret and the
+witticisms of the messroom!  Pornography is admitted, but science
+is not!  I tell you, sir, that is the thing which must be
+changed!  We must elevate the soul of the young man by taking
+these facts out of the realm of mystery and of slang.  We must
+awaken in him a pride in that creative power with which each one
+of us is endowed.  We must make him understand that he is a sort
+of temple in which is prepared the future of the race, and we
+must teach him that he must transmit, intact, the heritage
+entrusted to him--the precious heritage which has been built out
+of the tears and miseries and sufferings of an interminable line
+of ancestors!"
+
+So the doctor argued.  He brought forth case after case to prove
+that the prostitute was what she was, not because of innate
+vileness, but because of economic conditions.  It happened that
+the deputy came to one of the clinics where he met Therese.  The
+doctor brought her into his consulting room, after telling her
+that the imposing-looking gentleman was a friend of the director
+of the opera, and might be able to recommend her for a position
+on the stage to which she aspired.  "Tell him all about
+yourself," he said, "how you live, and what you do, and what you
+would like to do.  You will get him interested in you."
+
+So the poor girl retold the story of her life.  She spoke in a
+matter-of-fact voice, and when she came to tell how she had been
+obliged to leave her baby in the foundling asylum, she was
+surprised that Monsieur Loches showed horror.  "What could I do?"
+she demanded.  "How could I have taken care of it?"
+
+"Didn't you ever miss it?" he asked.
+
+"Of course I missed it.  But what difference did that make?  It
+would have died of hunger with me."
+
+"Still," he said, "it was your child--"
+
+"It was the father's child, too, wasn't it?  Much attention he
+paid to it!  If I had been sure of getting money enough, I would
+have put it out to nurse.  But with the twenty-five or thirty
+francs a month I could have earned as a servant, could I have
+paid for a baby?  That's the situation a girl faces--so long as I
+wanted to remain honest, it was impossible for me to keep my
+child.  You answer, perhaps, 'You didn't stay honest anyway.'
+That's true.  But then--when you are hungry, and a nice young
+fellow offers you dinner, you'd have to be made of wood to refuse
+him.  Of course, if I had had a trade--but I didn't have any.  So
+I went on the street--You know how it is."
+
+"Tell us about it," said the doctor.  "This gentleman is from the
+country."
+
+"Is that so?" said the girl.  "I never supposed there was anyone
+who didn't know about such things.  Well, I took the part of a
+little working-girl.  A very simple dress--things I had made
+especially for that--a little bundle in a black napkin carried in
+my hand--so I walked along where the shops are.  It's tiresome,
+because to do it right, you have to patter along fast.  Then I
+stop before a shop, and nine times out of ten, there you are!  A
+funny thing is that the men--you'd imagine they had agreed on the
+words to approach you with.  They have only two phrases; they
+never vary them.  It's either, 'You are going fast, little one.'
+Or it's, 'Aren't you afraid all alone?'  One thing or the other.
+One knows pretty well what they mean.  Isn't it so?"  The girl
+paused, then went on.  "Again, I would get myself up as a young
+widow.  There, too, one has to walk fast:  I don't know why that
+should be so, but it is.  After a minute or two of conversation,
+they generally find out that I am not a young widow, but that
+doesn't make any difference--they go on just the same."
+
+"Who are the men?" asked the deputy.  "Clerks?  Traveling
+salesmen?"
+
+"Not much," she responded.  "I keep a lookout for gentlemen--like
+yourself."
+
+"They SAY they are gentlemen," he suggested.
+
+"Sometimes I can see it," was the response.  "Sometimes they wear
+orders.  It's funny--if they have on a ribbon when you first
+notice them, they follow you, and presto--the ribbon is gone!  I
+always laugh over that.  I've watched them in the glass of the
+shop windows.  They try to look unconcerned, but as they walk
+along they snap out the ribbon with their thumb--as one shells
+little peas, you know."
+
+She paused; then, as no one joined in her laugh, she continued,
+"Well, at last the police got after me,  That's a story that I've
+never been able to understand.  Those filthy men gave me a nasty
+disease, and then I was to be shut in prison for it!  That was a
+little too much, it seems to me."
+
+"Well," said the doctor, grimly, "you revenged yourself on them--
+from what you have told me."
+
+The other laughed.  "Oh, yes," she said.  "I had my innings."
+She turned to Monsieur Loches.  "You want me to tell you that?
+Well, just on the very day I learned that the police were after
+me, I was coming home furious, naturally.  It was on the
+Boulevard St. Denis, if you know the place--and whom do you think
+I met?  My old master--the one who got me into trouble, you know.
+There it was, God's own will!  I said to myself, 'Now, my good
+fellow, here's the time where you pay me what you owe me, and
+with interest, too!'  I put on a little smile--oh, it didn't take
+very long, you may be sure!"
+
+The woman paused; her face darkened, and she went on, in a voice
+trembling with agitation:  "When I had left him, I was seized
+with a rage.  A sort of madness got into my blood.  I took on all
+the men who offered themselves, for whatever they offered me, for
+nothing, if they didn't offer me anything.  I took as many as I
+could, the youngest ones and the handsomest ones.  Just so!  I
+only gave them back what they had given to me.  And since that
+time I haven't really cared about anyone any more.  I just turned
+it all into a joke."  She paused, and then looking at the deputy,
+and reading in his face the horror with which he was regarding
+her, "Oh, I am not the only one!" she exclaimed.  "There are lots
+of other women who do the same.  To be sure, it is not for
+vengeance--it is because they must have something to eat.  For
+even if you have syphilis, you have to eat, don't you?  Eh?"
+
+She had turned to the doctor, but he did not answer.  There was a
+long silence; and then thinking that his friend, the deputy, had
+heard enough for one session, the doctor rose.  He dismissed the
+woman, the cause of all George Dupont's misfortunes, and turning
+to Monsieur Loches, said:  "It was on purpose that I brought that
+wretched prostitute before you.  In her the whole story is summed
+up--not merely the story of your son-in-law, but that of all the
+victims of the red plague.  That woman herself is a victim, and
+she is a symbol of the evil which we have created and which falls
+upon our own heads again.  I could add nothing to her story, I
+only ask you, Monsieur Loches--when next you are proposing new
+laws in the Chamber of Deputies, not to forget the horrors which
+that poor woman has exposed to you!"
+
+
+
+
+
+End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Damaged Goods, by Upton Sinclair
+
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