But I am bragging a little. In actual fact, I believe I secretly kept hoping that there would be a miscarriage or a stillborn child. Or that, if it did survive, it would resemble me. Or if not me, at least not too obviously the gorilla. And if it did… ah well, I would just have to make advance arrangements, see to it that the confinement was as discreet as possible so that I might, as a last resort, entrust the baby to some faraway crêche…
But the first thing of all was to get Sylva’s consent. She must therefore be persuaded to come home. Nanny was not up to that task, for torn between Sylva and me, she no longer knew which way to turn. Sylva loved me too, I had every reason to be sure of it. I would shut myself up with her, I would convince her in the end. She must understand and follow me! I jumped on my horse and galloped down to the inn.
There I found everything at sixes and sevens. Where was Nanny? She appeared just as I was asking for her, carrying a basin of hot water. She simply said, “So there you are, are you?” and passed without stopping.
I followed her.
She said, “Stay where you are.”
“But what’s going on?” I cried.
And Nanny, over her shoulder: “She is in labor.”
This was much earlier than we had expected. And I had been planning a discreet confinement! I paced up and down in the corridor, chain-smoking as custom has it, until after half an hour, I heard Nanny call me in a voice that gave me goose flesh.
I ran up to her. She was carrying the first-born in her arms.
There could be no room for doubt: it was a fox cub.