“Everything went very well for about three months. But all at once Mouche adopted, towards all of us, strange attitudes. She was less gay, nervy, ill at ease, almost irritable. We were continually asking her:
“ ‘What’s the matter with you?’
“She answered:
“ ‘Nothing. Leave me alone.’
“The truth was revealed to us by N’a-qu’un-Œil one Saturday evening. We had just sat down to table in the little dining room that the proprietor of our pothouse reserved for us in his wayside inn, and, soup over, we were waiting for the fried fish, when our friend, who was also apparently anxious, first took Mouche’s hand, and then spoke:
“ ‘My dear comrades,’ said he, ‘I have a very grave communication to make to you, which will perhaps occasion lengthy discussions. We shall have time, however, to argue between the courses. Our poor Mouche has announced a disastrous piece of news to me, bidding me at the same time to pass it on to you.
“ ‘She is enceinte.
“ ‘I add only two words.
“ ‘This is no time to desert her, and any attempt to settle the paternity is forbidden.’
“The first effect of this news was blank amazement, a sense of disaster; and we looked at one another, feeling a desire to accuse someone. But whom? Oh, whom? I have never felt, as sharply as in that moment, how treacherous is this cruel jest of nature that never allows a man to know beyond shadow of doubt whether he is the father of his child.
“Then, gradually, we experienced a certain sense of comfort and consolation, born contrariwise from a vague feeling of solidarity.
“Tomahawk, who hardly ever spoke, expressed this dawning serenity by these words:
“ ‘Faith, so much the worse, union is strength.’
“The gudgeon came in, borne by a scullion. We did not fling ourselves on it, as was our custom, because we were still disturbed in mind.
“N’a-qu’un-Œil went on:
“ ‘In these circumstances, she has had the delicacy to make full confession to me. My friends, we are all equally guilty. Give me your hands and let us adopt the child.’
“The decision was carried unanimously. We lifted our arms towards the dish of fried fish and took the oath.
“ ‘We will adopt it.’
“At that, in that moment, saved, delivered from the dreadful weight of anxiety which for a month had been torturing this dear wanton little waif of love, Mouche cried:
“ ‘Oh, my friends, my friends! You are so kind … so kind … so kind. … Thank you all!’
“And she wept, for the first time, in our sight.
“Henceforth we talked in the boat about the child as if it were already born, and each of us showed an interest, with an exaggerated air of anxious concern, in the slow, regular change in our helmswoman’s figure.
“We stopped rowing to ask:
“ ‘Mouche?’
“She replied:
“ ‘What now?’
“ ‘Is it a boy or a girl?’
“ ‘Boy.’
“ ‘What will he be?’
“Then she let her imagination take flight in the most fantastic fashion. She gave us the most interminable narratives, amazing inventions, stretching from the day of his birth to his final triumph. He was everything, this child, to the artless, passionate, loving dreams of this extraordinary little creature who now lived chaste among us five men, whom she called her ‘five papas.’ She saw him and described him as a sailor, discovering a new world greater than America, a general, regaining Alsace-Lorraine for France, then an emperor, founding a dynasty of wise and generous sovereigns who bestowed on our country lasting happiness, then a scientist, just discovering the secret of making gold, then that of eternal life, then an aeronaut, inventing means to visit the stars and making of infinite space a vast playground for men, the realisation of all the most unforeseen and most magnificent dreams.
“God, how gay and amusing she was, poor little thing, until the end of the summer!
“It was the twentieth day of September that destroyed her dream. We had been lunching at Maison-Lafitte, and we were passing Saint-Germain, when she felt thirsty and asked us to stop at Pecq.
“For some time now, she had been growing heavy, and this annoyed her very much. She could no longer leap about as before, nor jump from the boat to the bank, as she was used to doing. She still tried, in spite of our cries and our efforts; and twenty times, but for our arms outstretched to catch her, she would have fallen.
“This particular day, filled with just such bravado, as sometimes proves fatal to ill or tired athletes, she was rash enough to try to get on shore before the boat stopped.
“Just as we were coming alongside, without anyone being able to foresee or prevent her movement, she stood up, made a spring, and tried to jump on to the quay.
“She was too weak, and only the top of her foot touched the edge of the stone quay; she slipped, hit her stomach full on the sharp corner, gave a loud cry, and disappeared in the water.
“The whole five of us plunged in together, and brought out a poor swooning creature, pale as death, and already suffering frightful pains.
“We had to carry her without delay to the nearest inn, where a doctor was summoned.
“Throughout the ten hours during which her premature labour lasted, she bore her abominable torture with heroic courage. We were standing miserably round her, on fever with grief and fear.
“Then she was delivered of a dead child; and for some days more we had the gravest fears for her life.
“At last one morning the doctor said to us: ‘I think she is safe. She’s made of steel, that girl.’ And we entered her room together with glad hearts.
“N’a-qu’un-Œil, speaking for all of us, said to her:
“ ‘You’re out of danger, little Mouche, and we’re very happy.’
“Then she cried in front of us for the second time, and, her eyes swimming in tears, she stammered:
“ ‘Oh, if you knew, if you knew … how unhappy … how unhappy I
