Goodbye, Janette by Harold Robbins Page A

began to explain. “But the rules—”
    Maurice interrupted her. “I know the rules, Sister. But please take mercy on a poor man who just at this moment arrived back in Paris and longs only for a moment’s glimpse of his wife and child.”
    The second banknote in Maurice’s hand disappeared into the pocket of the starched uniform. “Very well, Monsieur,” she said, admitting them into the hallway. “But we must be very quiet.
    They followed her down the long hospital-smelling corridor and stopped outside a room. She turned to look at them. “Madame la Marquise had a very difficult labor. We have given her very heavy sedation and she is sleeping. You can look in from the doorway but please do not enter.”
    Maurice nodded. The nurse opened the door. There was a very dim light in the room. He peered past her. Tanya was lying in the bed, her eyes closed. Even in the small light, Maurice could see her face was pale and drawn. He stepped back and turned to the nurse. “And the baby?” he whispered.
    “The nurse closed the door softly. “Follow me, Monsieur.”
    They walked down to the end of the corridor and turned right. They stopped in front of a large double-paned window. Looking through the window they could see about seven or eight tiny cribs on small wheels, a baby in each.
    Maurice looked at the nurse. “Which one is mine?”
    “Just a moment, Monsieur,” the nurse said. “I will go into the room and hold her up so that you can see her.”
    “Her?” Maurice’s voice was incredulous. “You mean it’s a girl?”
    The nurse smiled. “Yes, Monsieur, the most beautiful girl you ever saw. Golden ringlets of hair the color of the sun, the bluest eyes that sparkle like aquamarines and will be blue all through her life. Wait just a moment, you will see for yourself.”
    She left them to enter the nursery. But when she came to the window with the child in her arms, they were already gone.
    Maurice drove wildly through the deserted streets. “The bitch!” he swore angrily. “The bitch! She couldn’t even do that right!”
    “Take it easy,” Jerry said. “Or you’ll get us both killed.”
    “The least she could have done was have a boy.” Maurice was still angry. “Someone to carry on the name. But no, another fucking cunt! Blond and blue-eyed on top of it all. Paris will break up with laughter. There has never been a blue-eyed blonde in the seven-hundred-year history of my family.”
    “What difference does it make?” Jerry asked. “Everyone knows it’s not your child anyway.”
    “That makes it even worse,” Maurice said. “They all know the only reason I stayed with her was to get a son.”
    He raced across the small bridge over the Seine to the Ile Saint-Louis and down the narrow streets to a stop in front of their apartment. He got out of the car and slammed the door angrily. “The bitch!” he swore again. “I’ll make her pay for this. You’ll see.”
    ***
    Dr. Pierre came into the room. He stopped at the side of the bed and looked down at her. “How are you feeling?” He smiled.
    “Tired,” she said.
    He shrugged. “That’s normal.” Quickly he checked her heart, pulse and blood pressure. “You’re okay.”
    “And the baby?” she asked.
    “Perfect,” he answered. “One couldn’t ask for anymore. You fed her this morning?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good. We’ll put her on a formula for lunch. She’ll have that every other feeding time for a few days, then when she’s adjusted to it, we’ll take her off the breast completely.”
    “How long will that take?” she asked.
    “Three, four days.
    “I don’t want my breasts to get too large,” she said.
    “Don’t worry about it,” he smiled. “I’ll give you a series of shots that will stop the lactation and bring your breasts back to normal in no time.”
    “How long do I have to stay in here?”
    “About a week. Then you’ll be able to go home.”
    “I have a lot to do,” she said.
    “It will wait. Your health is