She talked
incessantly of the coming being, and thought of nothing else waking
or sleeping. She had not the slightest doubt that it would be a boy.
Isabel had to lay the cards a dozen times, and the knave of spades
came to the top nearly every time, an infallible promise of a boy.
And how beautiful he would be, the son of such a handsome father,
the fruit of such transcendent love! She consulted with Wilhelm what
name he should receive, and wanted a definite statement or a
suggestion, or at least some slight conjecture as to the profession
his father would choose for him. And should he be educated in Paris?
Would it not be too great a strain upon the little brain to have to
learn French, Spanish, and German at the same time? What anxieties,
what responsibilities, but at the same time what bliss! She did not
even let Wilhelm see the whole depth of her feelings, knowing that
he would not follow her in these extravagant raptures. She did not
let him see her kneel two or three times a day at the altar or on
her priedieu, and cover the silver Madonna del Pilar with ecstatic
kisses. He knew nothing of her having sent for the priest of the
diocese and ordered a number of masses. She did not take him with
her when--her impatience leading her far ahead of events--she rushed
from shop to shop looking for a cradle, and only put off buying one
because she could find none in all Paris that was sumptuous and
costly enough.
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