Chapter LXXVII: Section 11: When he looked up again the elder nurse had the baby in her

arms; and there was a wan smile on Corydon’s face.

The doctor’s hand was in the ghastly wound, and he was talking to the young nurse, giving her instruction, in a strange, monotonous tone. “The placenta,” he was saying, “often has to be removed; we do it by twisting it round and round--very gently, of course. Then it comes--so!”

There came a rush of blood, and Thyrsis turned away his head.

“Give me the basin,” said the doctor. “There!--And now the next thing is to see that the uterus contracts immediately. We assist it by compressing the walls, thus. It must be tightly bandaged.”

Thyrsis had turned to see the child. He looked at it, and clenched his hands to control his emotions. Yes, it was a man! it was a man! Not a monster, not a demon--a baby!

His boy! himself! God, what a ghastly thing to realize! It had his forehead, it had his nose! It was a caricature of himself! A caricature grotesque and impish, and yet one that no human being could mistake--a caricature by the hand of a master!

And it was a living thing! It had power of motion--it twisted and writhed, it bent its arms and legs! It winked its eyelids, it opened and shut its mouth, it breathed and made sounds! And it had feeling, too! It had cried out when it was struck!

Gently, with one finger, he touched it; and the contact with its flesh sent a shudder through every nerve of him. His child! His child! And a living child! A creature that would go on; that would eat and sleep and grow, that would learn to make sounds, and to understand things! That would come to think and to will! That would be a man!

“Is it--is it all right?” he asked the nurse, in a trembling whisper.

“It’s a magnificent boy,” she said. And then she struck a match, and held the light in front of its eyes; and the eyes turned to follow the light. “He sees!” she said.

Yes, he could see! And Thyrsis had already heard that he could speak! What could it not do--this marvellous object! It was Nature’s supreme miracle--it was the answer to all the riddles, the solution of all the mysteries! It was a vindication of the subterfuges, a reward for the sacrifices, a balm for the pain! It was the thing for which all the rest had been, it was the crown and consummation of their love--it was Life’s supreme shout of triumph and exultation!

The nurse was holding the child up before Corydon; and she was gazing at it, she was feeding her eyes upon it. And oh, the smile that came upon her face--the ineffable smile! The pride, and the relief, and the beatific happiness! This thing she had done--it was her act of creation! Her battle that had been fought, her victory that had been won; and now they brought her the crown and the guerdon! To Thyrsis there came suddenly the words of Jesus: “A woman when she is in travail hath sorrow, because her hour hath come; but as soon as she is delivered of the child, she remembereth no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born into the world.” And he sunk down beside the bed, and caught the woman’s hand in his, and began to sob softly to himself.