"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. She spoke readily enough, but there was a new timidity in her manner. She laughed a little bitterly. As for the doctor, he found a pleasure in this service that would have puzzled him had he paused to analyse it. ‘The wretch said nothing to anyone. It was a gorgeous May evening, the air redolent with the soapy purple scents of hyacinth and lilac. ” He rejoiced over this emancipation.
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