Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - XV. John
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the truth. I told her laughingly I was no more
his father than she was his mother, that he was
an orphan with a very sad history. She had
better not ask me, it would only give her pain.
I drew back his sleeve and pointed to an ugly
scar on his arm. He was all right now with
Rosalie and me, but I should not be sure that he
had forgotten the past until I had seen him smile.
He never smiled.
“It is true,” she said gently. “He has not
smiled a single time as other children do when
they show their toys.”
I said we knew very little of the mentality of
small children, we were strangers in the world
they lived in. Only the instinct of a mother
could now and then find its way among their
thoughts.
For all answer she bent her head over him and
kissed him tenderly. John looked at her with
great surprise in his blue eyes.
“It is probably the first kiss he has ever had,”
said I.
Rosalie appeared to take him for his usual
afternoon walk in Parc Monceau, his new friend
suggested taking him for a drive in her landau
instead. I was delighted to get out of the
projected visit to the hospital, I accepted with
pleasure.
From that day a new life began for John and
I think also for somebody else. Every morning
she came to his room with a new toy, every
afternoon she drove him in her landau to the Bois de
Boulogne with Rosalie in her best Sunday clothes
on the back seat. Often he rode gravely on the
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