Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - XV. John
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and the next day the boy was installed in his new
home. The woman seemed clever and capable,
somewhat quick tempered I should have thought
from the look of her eyes, but the nuns had told
me she had been a devoted mother to her own
child. She was given the money needed for his
outfit and paid three months in advance, less
than I spend on my cigarettes. I preferred not
to give her my address, God knows what would
have happened if Mamsell Agata had got to know
of his existence. Joséphine was to report to the
nuns if anything went wrong or if the child got ill.
It did not take long before she had to report.
The boy caught scarlet fever and nearly died.
All the Scandinavian children in the Pantin
quarter were down with scarlet fever, I had to
go there constantly. Children with scarlet fever
need no medicine, only careful nursing and a toy
for their long convalescence. John got both, for
his new foster mother was evidently very kind
to him and I had long ago learned to include dolls
and wooden horses in my pharmacopœia.
“He is a strange child,” said Joséphine, “he
never says even ‘mama,’ he never smiles, not
even when he got the Father Christmas you sent
him.”
For it was Christmas once more, the boy had
been with his new foster mother a whole year, of
toil and worries for me but relative happiness
for him. Joséphine was certainly hot-tempered,
often impertinent to me when I had to scold
her for not keeping the boy tidy or for never
opening the window. But I never heard her say
a rough word to him, and although I do not think
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