"That stupid servant!" squealed Madame Rousseau, hugging the baby to
her breast in frantic relief. "Oh, what a fright I have had. Take the
baby, Jean. Mon dieu! Do not let it fall! Oh, m'sieur, madame, you
will never know how I was anguished. I thought I had lost my darling,
my adored one. The black-hand what-you-call-him--non, non, the
kidnapper. My baby! Jean, Jean, do not let it out of your sight again
--never, do you hear. Now, madame, will you not be kind enough to look
at my baby? Come, m'sieur, to the window. Jean, pull up the shade."

Jean almost dropped his precious burden in his eagerness to do as he
was bidden, and might actually have done so but for the timely
intervention of Monsieur Rouquin, who sprang to the window and sent
the shade up with a crash that caused Mrs. Bingle to jump with alarm.

"See!" shouted Rouquin, stepping back and pointing proudly at the
baby.

"God bless my soul!" exclaimed Mr. Bingle.

"Oh, the darling!" cried his wife, and tried at once to take the
sunny-faced youngster from the arms of Monsieur Jean. But Jean held on
very tightly, apparently awaiting orders. It may have been the unusual
fervour of the father's clasp that caused the child to whimper, or it
may have been that it never had seen such an expression in its
parent's face before. At any rate, as it looked up into Jean's swarthy
countenance it began to cry; where upon Madame Rousseau exclaimed
shrilly:

"Can't you see, Jean? Madame would hold my baby to her breast. Quick!
You big simpleton! Ah, madame, my poor Jean is so sad, so broken-