Monsieur, Madame, and Bebe -- V

he country half as big again and as bold as a lion. He climbs on to the chair

terday swaddling clothes, today boots, tomorrow spurs. Ah! how the happy days fly by. Already four years old. I can scarcely carry him, even supposing he allowed me to, for his manly dignity

akes my head in his hands and arranges my hair in his own way. His fresh little mouth travels all over my face. He imprints big sounding kisses on the back of my neck, which makes me shudder all over. We h

for greater certainty he has added on his own account, "You know, God, Granny who lives in the Rue Saint-Louis, on the first floor." He says all this with

, but I think he has been looking rather depressed since the morning. D

were moist; he strove to hide it, but I saw a tear. My child must be very il

re so. I will not think of what God may have in store for me. Ice has been ordered to be put to his head. His hair had to be cut

rge eyes that still shine in the depths of their sockets, smile at me from time to time, but this s

His lips opened, and he said, but in a whisper so low that I had t

him? I s

I

ere and I feel no bett

till spit blood. Beside

e m

s as

visible on them. To the left is the branch of the blessed box that used to hang at his bedside. Let your hands alone tou

ilt too high on too unstable a soil. I love