"Here is a child," said he with a smile, "and you are her aunt. The
mother is dead and I don't know what to do with her. I'll give her to
you."
The mercer took the child, smiled at her and kissed her rosy cheeks.
Although Degans remained a week at Vernon, his sister barely put a
question to him concerning the little girl he had brought her. She
understood vaguely that the dear little creature was born at Oran, and
that her mother was a woman of the country of great beauty. The Captain,
an hour before his departure, handed his sister a certificate of birth
in which Therese, acknowledged by him to be his child, bore his name. He
rejoined his regiment, and was never seen again at Vernon, being killed
a few years later in Africa.
Therese grew up under the fostering care of her aunt, sleeping in the
same bed as Camille. She who had an iron constitution, received the
treatment of a delicate child, partaking of the same medicine as her
cousin, and kept in the warm air of the room occupied by the invalid.
For hours she remained crouching over the fire, in thought, watching the
flames before her, without lowering her eyelids.
This obligatory life of a convalescent caused her to retire within
herself.
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