Damaged Goods
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Upton Sinclair >> Damaged Goods
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"Madame Dupont," he began, "I have prescribed a course of
treatment for the child. I hope to be able to improve its
condition, and to prevent any new developments. But my duty and
yours does not stop there; if there is still time, it is
necessary to protect the health of the nurse."
"Tell us what it is necessary to do, Doctor?" said she.
"The woman must stop nursing the child."
"You mean we have to change the nurse?"
"Madame, the child can no longer be brought up at the breast,
either by that nurse or by any other nurse."
"But why, sir?"
"Because the child would give her disease to the woman who gave
her milk."
"But, Doctor, if we put her on the bottle--our little one--she
will die!"
And suddenly George burst out into sobs. "Oh, my poor little
daughter! My God, my God!"
Said the doctor, "If the feeding is well attended to, with
sterilized milk--"
"That can do very well for healthy infants," broke in Madame
Dupont. "But at the age of three months one cannot take from the
breast a baby like ours, frail and ill. More than any other such
an infant has need of a nurse--is that not true?"
"Yes," the doctor admitted, "that is true. But--"
"In that case, between the life of the child, and the health of
the nurse, you understand perfectly well that my choice is made."
Between her words the doctor heard the sobbing of George, whose
head was buried in his arms. "Madame," he said, "your love for
that baby has just caused you to utter something ferocious! It
is not for you to choose. It is not for you to choose. I forbid
the nursing. The health of that woman does not belong to you."
"No," cried the grandmother, wildly, "nor does the health of out
child belong to you! If there is a hope of saving it, that hope
is in giving it more care than any other child; and you would
wish that I put it upon a mode of nourishment which the doctors
condemn, even for vigorous infants! You expect that I will let
myself be taken in like that? I answer you: she shall have the
milk which she needs, my poor little one! If there was a single
thing that one could do to save her--I should be a criminal to
neglect it!" And Madame Dupont broke out, with furious scorn,
"The nurse! The nurse! We shall know how to do our duty--we
shall take care of her, repay her. But our child before all! No
sir, no! Everything that can be done to save our baby I shall
do, let it cost what it will. To do what you say--you don't
realize it--it would be as if I should kill the child!" In the
end the agonized woman burst into tears. "Oh, my poor little
angel! My little savior!"
George had never ceased sobbing while his mother spoke; at these
last words his sobs became loud cries. He struck the floor with
his foot, he tore his hair, as if he were suffering from violent
physical pain. "Oh, oh, oh!" he cried. "My little child! My
little child!" And then, in a horrified whisper to himself, "I
am a wretch! A criminal!"
"Madame," said the doctor, "you must calm yourself; you must both
calm yourselves. You will not help out the situation by
lamentations. You must learn to take it with calmness."
Madame Dupont set her lips together, and with a painful effort
recovered her self-control. "You are right, sir," she said, in a
low voice. "I ask your pardon; but if you only knew what that
child means to me! I lost one at that age. I am an old woman, I
am a widow--I had hardly hoped to live long enough to be a
grandmother. But, as you say--we must be calm." She turned to
the young man, "Calm yourself, my son. It is a poor way to show
our love for the child, to abandon ourselves to tears. Let us
talk, Doctor, and seriously--coldly. But I declare to you that
nothing will ever induce me to put the child on the bottle, when
I know that it might kill her. That is all I can say."
The doctor replied: "This isn't the first time that I find
myself in the present situation. Madame, I declare to you that
always--ALWAYS, you understand--persons who have rejected my
advice have had reason to repent it cruelly."
"The only thing of which I should repent--" began the other.
"You simply do not know," interrupted the doctor, "what such a
nurse is capable of. You cannot imagine what bitterness--
legitimate bitterness, you understand--joined to the rapacity,
the cupidity, the mischief-making impulse--might inspire these
people to do. For them the BOURGEOIS is always somewhat of an
enemy; and when they find themselves in position to avenge their
inferiority, they are ferocious."
"But what could the woman do?"
"What could she do? She could bring legal proceedings against
you."
"But she is much too stupid to have that idea."
"Others will put it into her mind."
"She is too poor to pay the preliminary expenses."
"And do you propose then to profit by her ignorance and
stupidity? Besides, she could obtain judicial assistance."
"Why, surely," exclaimed Madame Dupont, "such a thing was never
heard of! Do you mean that?"
"I know a dozen prosecutions of that sort; and always when there
has been certainty, the parents have lost their case."
"But surely, Doctor, you must be mistaken! Not in a case like
ours--not when it is a question of saving the life of a poor
little innocent!"
"Oftentimes exactly such facts have been presented."
Here George broke in. "I can give you the dates of the
decisions." He rose from his chair, glad of an opportunity to be
useful. "I have the books," he said, and took one from the case
and brought it to the doctor.
"All of that is no use--" interposed the mother.
But the doctor said to George, "You will be able to convince
yourself. The parents have been forced once or twice to pay the
nurse a regular income, and at other times they have had to pay
her an indemnity, of which the figure has varied between three
and eight thousand francs."
Madame Dupont was ready with a reply to this. "Never fear, sir!
If there should be a suit, we should have a good lawyer. We
shall be able to pay and choose the best--and he would demand,
without doubt, which of the two, the nurse or the child, has
given the disease to the other."
The doctor was staring at her in horror. "Do you not perceive
that would be a monstrous thing to do?"
"Oh, I would not have to say it," was the reply. "The lawyer
would see to it--is not that his profession? My point is this:
by one means or another he would make us win our case."
"And the scandal that would result," replied the other. "Have
you thought of that?"
Here George, who had been looking over his law-books, broke in.
"Doctor, permit me to give you a little information. In cases of
this sort, the names are never printed."
"Yes, but they are spoken at the hearings."
"That's true."
"And are you certain that there will not be any newspaper to
print the judgment?"
"What won't they stoop to," exclaimed Madame Dupont--"those
filthy journals!"
"Ah," said the other, "and see what a scandal? What a shame it
would be to you!"
"The doctor is right, mother," exclaimed the young man.
But Madame Dupont was not yet convinced. "We will prevent the
woman from taking any steps; we will give her what she demands
from us."
"But then," said the other, "you will give yourselves up to the
risk of blackmail. I know a family which has been thus held up
for over twelve years."
"If you will permit me, Doctor," said George, timidly, "she could
be made to sign a receipt."
"For payment in full?" asked the doctor, scornfully.
"Even so."
"And then," added his mother, "she would be more than delighted
to go back to her country with a full purse. She would be able
to buy a little house and a bit of ground--in that country one
doesn't need so much in order to live."
At this moment there was a tap upon the door, and the nurse
entered. She was a country woman, robust, rosy-cheeked, fairly
bursting with health. When she spoke one got the impression that
her voice was more than she could contain. It did not belong in
a drawing-room, but under the open sky of her country home.
"Sir," she said, addressing the doctor, "the baby is awake."
"I will go and see her," was the reply; and then to Madame
Dupont, "We will take up this conversation later on."
"Certainly," said the mother. "Will you have need of the nurse?"
"No, Madame," the doctor answered.
"Nurse," said the mother, "sit down and rest. Wait a minute, I
wish to speak to you." As the doctor went out, she took her son
to one side and whispered to him, "I know the way to arrange
everything. If we let her know what is the matter, and if she
accepts, the doctor will have nothing more to say. Isn't that
so?"
"Obviously," replied the son.
"I am going to promise that we will give her two thousand francs
when she goes away, if she will consent to continue nursing the
child."
"Two thousand francs?" said the other. "Is that enough?"
"I will see," was the reply. "If she hesitates, I will go
further. Let me attend to it."
George nodded his assent, and Madame Dupont returned to the
nurse. "You know," she said, "that our child is a little sick?"
The other looked at her in surprise. "Why no, ma'am!"
"Yes," said the grandmother.
"But, ma'am, I have taken the best of care of her; I have always
kept her proper."
"I am not saying anything to the contrary," said Madame Dupont,
"but the child is sick, the doctors have said it."
The nurse was not to be persuaded; she thought they were getting
ready to scold her. "Humph," she said, "that's a fine thing--the
doctors! If they couldn't always find something wrong you'd say
they didn't know their business."
"But our doctor is a great doctor; and you have seen yourself
that our child has some little pimples."
"Ah, ma'am," said the nurse, "that's the heat--it's nothing but
the heat of the blood breaking out. You don't need to bother
yourself; I tell you it's only the child's blood. It's not my
fault; I swear to you that she had not lacked anything, and that
I have always kept her proper."
"I am not reproaching you--"
"What is there to reproach me for? Oh, what bad luck! She's
tiny--the little one--she's a bit feeble; but Lord save us, she's
a city child! And she's getting along all right, I tell you."
"No," persisted Madame Dupont, "I tell you--she has got a cold in
her head, and she has an eruption at the back of the throat."
"Well," cried the nurse, angrily, "if she has, it's because the
doctor scratched her with that spoon he put into her mouth wrong
end first! A cold in the head? Yes, that's true; but if she has
caught cold, I can't say when, I don't know anything about it--
nothing, nothing at all. I have always kept her well covered;
she's always had as much as three covers on her. The truth is,
it was when you came, the time before last; you were all the time
insisting upon opening the windows in the house!"
"But once more I tell you," cried Madame Dupont, "we are not
putting any blame on you."
"Yes," cried the woman, more vehemently. "I know what that kind
of talk means. It's no use--when you're a poor country woman."
"What are you imagining now?" demanded the other.
"Oh, that's all right. It's no use when you're a poor country
woman."
"I repeat to you once more," cried Madame Dupont, with difficulty
controlling her impatience, "we have nothing whatever to blame
you for."
But the nurse began to weep. "If I had known that anything like
this was coming to me--"
"We have nothing to blame you for," declared the other. "We only
wish to warn you that you might possibly catch the disease of the
child."
The woman pouted. "A cold in the head!" she exclaimed. "Well,
if I catch it, it won't be the first time. I know how to blow my
nose."
"But you might also get the pimples."
At this the nurse burst into laughter so loud that the
bric-a-brac rattled. "Oh, oh, oh! Dear lady, let me tell you,
we ain't city folks, we ain't; we don't have such soft skins.
What sort of talk is that? Pimples--what difference would that
make to poor folks like us? We don't have a white complexion like the ladies
of Paris. We are out all day in the fields, in the sun and the rain, instead
of rubbing cold cream on our muzzles! No offense, ma'am--but I say if you're
looking for an excuse to get rid of me, you must get a better one than that."
"Excuse!" exclaimed the other. "What in the world do you mean?"
"Oh, I know!" said the nurse, nodding her head.
"But speak!"
"It's no use, when you're only a poor country woman."
"I don't understand you! I swear to you that I don't understand
you!"
"Well," sneered the other, "I understand."
"But then--explain yourself."
"No, I don't want to say it."
"But you must; I wish it."
"Well--"
"Go ahead."
"I'm only a poor country woman, but I am no more stupid than the
others, for all that. I know perfectly well what your tricks
mean. Mr. George here has been grumbling because you promised me
thirty francs more a month, if I came to Paris." And then,
turning upon the other, she went on--"But, sir, isn't it only
natural? Don't I have to put my own child away somewheres else?
And then, can my husband live on his appetite? We're nothing but
poor country people, we are."
"You are making a mistake, nurse," broke in George. "It is
nothing at all of that sort; mother is quite right. I am so far
from wanting to reproach you, that, on the contrary, I think she
had not promised enough, and I want to make you, for my part,
another promise. When you go away, when baby is old enough to be
weaned, by way of thanking you, we wish to give you--"
Madame Dupont broke in, hurriedly, "We wish to give you,--over
and above your wages, you understand--we wish to give you five
hundred francs, and perhaps a thousand, if the little one is
altogether in good health. You understand?"
The nurse stared at her, stupefied. "You will give me five
hundred francs--for myself?" She sought to comprehend the words.
"But that was not agreed, you don't have to do that at all."
"No," admitted Madame Dupont.
"But then," whispered the nurse, half to herself, "that's not
natural."
"Yes," the other hurried on, "it is because the baby will have
need of extra care. You will have to take more trouble; you will
have to give it medicines; your task will be a little more
delicate, a little more difficult."
"Oh, yes; then it's so that I will be sure to take care of her?
I understand."
"Then it's agreed?" exclaimed Madame Dupont, with relief.
"Yes ma'am," said the nurse.
"And you won't come later on to make reproaches to us? We
understand one another clearly? We have warned you that the
child is sick and that you could catch the disease. Because of
that, because of the special need of care which she has, we
promise you five hundred francs at the end of the nursing.
That's all right, is it?
"But, my lady," cried the nurse, all her cupidity awakened, "you
spoke just now of a thousand francs."
"Very well, then, a thousand francs."
George passed behind the nurse and got his mother by the arm,
drawing her to one side. "It would be a mistake," he whispered,
"if we did not make her sign an agreement to all that."
His mother turned to the nurse. "In order that there may be no
misunderstanding about the sum--you see how it is, I had
forgotten already that I had spoken of a thousand francs--we will
draw up a little paper, and you, on your part, will write one for
us."
"Very good, ma'am," said the nurse, delighted with the idea of so
important a transaction. "Why, it's just as you do when you rent
a house!"
"Here comes the doctor," said the other. "Come, nurse, it is
agreed?"
"Yes, ma'am," was the answer. But all the same, as she went out
she hesitated and looked sharply first at the doctor, and then at
George and his mother. She suspected that something was wrong,
and she meant to find out if she could.
The doctor seated himself in George's office chair, as if to
write a prescription. "The child's condition remains the same,"
he said; "nothing disturbing."
"Doctor," said Madame Dupont, gravely, "from now on, you will be
able to devote your attention to the baby and the nurse without
any scruple. During your absence we have arranged matters
nicely. The nurse has been informed about the situation, and she
does not mind. She has agreed to accept an indemnity, and the
amount has been stated."
But the doctor did not take these tidings as the other had hoped
he might. He replied: "The malady which the nurse will almost
inevitably contract in feeding the child is too grave in its
consequences. Such consequences might go as far as complete
helplessness, even as far as death. So I say that the indemnity,
whatever it might be, would not pay the damage."
"But," exclaimed the other, "she accepts it! She is mistress of
herself, and she has the right--"
"I am not at all certain that she has the right to sell her own
health. And I am certain that she has not the right to sell the
health of her husband and her children. If she becomes infected,
it is nearly certain that she will communicate the disease to
them; the health and the life of the children she might have
later on would be greatly compromised. Such things she cannot
possibly sell. Come, madame, you must see that a bargain of this
sort isn't possible. If the evil has not been done, you must do
everything to avoid it."
"Sir," protested the mother, wildly, "you do not defend our
interests!"
"Madame," was the reply, "I defend those who are weakest."
"If we had called in our own physician, who knows us," she
protested, "he would have taken sides with us."
The doctor rose, with a severe look on his face. "I doubt it,"
he said, "but there is still time to call him."
George broke in with a cry of distress. "Sir, I implore you!"
And the mother in turn cried. "Don't abandon us, sir! You ought
to make allowances! If you knew what that child is to me! I
tell you it seems to me as if I had waited for her coming in
order to die. Have pity upon us! Have pity upon her! You speak
of the weakest--it is not she who is the weakest? You have seen
her, you have seen that poor little baby, so emaciated! You have
seen what a heap of suffering she is already; and cannot that
inspire in you any sympathy? I pray you, sir--I pray you!"
"I pity her," said the doctor, "I would like to save her--and I
will do everything for her. But do not ask me to sacrifice to a
feeble infant, with an uncertain and probably unhappy life, the
health of a sound and robust woman. It is useless for us to
continue such a discussion as that."
Whereupon Madame Dupont leaped up in sudden frenzy. "Very Well!"
she exclaimed. "I will not follow your counsels, I will not
listen to you!"
Said the doctor in a solemn voice: "There is already some one
here who regrets that he did not listen to me."
"Yes," moaned George, "to my misfortune, to the misfortune of all
of us."
But Madame Dupont was quite beside herself. "Very well!" she
cried. "If it is a fault, if it is a crime, if I shall have to
suffer remorse for it in this life, and all the punishments in
the life to come--I accept it all for myself alone! Myself
alone, I take that responsibility! It is frightfully heavy, but
I accept it. I am profoundly a Christian sir; I believe in
eternal damnation; but to save my little child I consent to lose
my soul forever. Yes, my mind is made up--I will do everything
to save that life! Let God judge me; and if he condemns me, so
much the worse for me!"
The doctor answered: "That responsibility is one which I cannot
let you take, for it will be necessary that I should accept my
part, and I refuse it."
"What will you do?"
"I shall warn the nurse. I shall inform her exactly,
completely--something which you have not done, I feel sure."
"What?" cried Madame Dupont, wildly. "You, a doctor, called into
a family which gives you its entire confidence, which hands over
to you its most terrible secrets, its most horrible miseries--you
would betray them?"
"It is not a betrayal," replied the man, sternly. "It is
something which the law commands; and even if the law were
silent, I would not permit a family of worthy people to go astray
so far as to commit a crime. Either I give up the case, or you
have the nursing of the child stopped."
"You threaten! You threaten!" cried the woman, almost frantic.
"You abuse the power which your knowledge gives you! You know
that it is you whose attention we need by that little cradle; you
know that we believe in you, and you threaten to abandon us!
Your abandonment means the death of the child, perhaps! And if I
listen to you, if we stop the nursing of the child--that also
means her death!"
She flung up her hands like a mad creature. "And yet there is no
other means! Ah, my God! Why do you not let it be possible for
me to sacrifice myself? I would wish nothing more than to be
able to do it--if only you might take my old body, my old flesh,
my old bones--if only I might serve for something! How quickly
would I consent that it should infect me--this atrocious malady!
How I would offer myself to it--with what joys, with what
delights--however disgusting, however frightful it might be,
however much to be dreaded! Yes, I would take it without fear,
without regret, if my poor old empty breasts might still give to
the child the milk which would preserve its life!"
She stopped; and George sprang suddenly from his seat, and fled
to her and flung himself down upon his knees before her, mingling
his sobs and tears with hers.
The doctor rose and moved about the room, unable any longer to
control his distress. "Oh, the poor people!" he murmured to
himself. "The poor, poor people!"
The storm passed, and Madame Dupont, who was a woman of strong
character, got herself together. Facing the doctor again, she
said, "Come, sir, tell us what we have to do."
"You must stop the nursing, and keep the woman here as a dry
nurse, in order that she may not go away to carry the disease
elsewhere. Do not exaggerate to yourself the danger which will
result to the child. I am, in truth, extremely moved by your
suffering, and I will do everything--I swear it to you--that your
baby may recover as quickly as possible its perfect health. I
hope to succeed, and that soon. And now I must leave you until
tomorrow."
"Thank you, Doctor, thank you," said Madame Dupont, faintly.
The young man rose and accompanied the doctor to the door. He
could not bring himself to speak, but stood hanging his head
until the other was gone. Then he came to his mother. He sought
to embrace her, but she repelled him--without violence, but
firmly.
Her son stepped back and put his hands over his face. "Forgive
me!" he said, in a broken voice. "Are we not unhappy enough,
without hating each other?"
His mother answered: "God has punished you for your debauch by
striking at your child."
But, grief-stricken as the young man was, he could not believe
that. "Impossible!" he said. "There is not even a man
sufficiently wicked or unjust to commit the act which you
attribute to your God!"
"Yes," said his mother, sadly, "you believe in nothing."
"I believe in no such God as that," he answered.
A silence followed. When it was broken, it was by the entrance
of the nurse. She had opened the door of the room and had been
standing there for some moments, unheeded. Finally she stepped
forward. "Madame," she said, "I have thought it over; I would
rather go back to my home at once, and have only the five hundred
francs."
Madame Dupont stared at her in consternation. "What is that you
are saying? You want to return to your home?"
"Yes, ma'am," was the answer.
"But," cried George, "only ten minutes ago you were not thinking
of it."
"What has happened since then?" demanded Madame Dupont.
"I have thought it over."
"Thought it over?"
"Well, I am getting lonesome for my little one and for my
husband."
"In the last ten minutes?" exclaimed George.
"There must be something else," his mother added. "Evidently
there must be something else."
"No!" insisted the nurse.
"But I say yes!"
"Well, I'm afraid the air of Paris might not be good for me."
"You had better wait and try it."
"I would rather go back at once to my home."
"Come, now," cried Madame Dupont, "tell us why?"
"I have told you. I have thought it over."
"Thought what over?"
"Well, I have thought."
"Oh," cried the mother, "what a stupid reply! 'I have thought it
over! I have thought it over!' Thought WHAT over, I want to
know!"
"Well, everything."
"Don't you know how to tell us what?"
"I tell you, everything."
"Why," exclaimed Madame Dupont, "you are an imbecile!"
George stepped between his mother and the nurse. "Let me talk to
her," he said.
The woman came back to her old formula: "I know that we're only
poor country people."
"Listen to me, nurse," said the young man. "Only a little while
ago you were afraid that we would send you away. You were
satisfied with the wages which my mother had fixed. In addition
to those wages we had promised you a good sum when you returned
to your home. Now you tell us that you want to go away. You
see? All at once. There must be some reason; let us understand
it. There must certainly be a reason. Has anybody done anything
to you?"
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