No one in the house could bear to look at the baby much. Delphine had been in to look in on him a few times, but Emilie had retreated to her room and had not left it since. His father refused to leave his wife's side, and had to be restrained when they moved her body out. He still wanted nothing to do with his youngest son.
Philippe had spent the morning arranging the funeral, since his father was inconsolable. Now he sat in an armchair in the nursery, watching his brother sleep. He was an adorable baby, which was at odds with all the misery he had brought with him. No, it's not his fault,Philippe reminded himself. He's just a baby.
The baby was stirring now, whimpering a little. Philippe crossed the room and picked him up. He held him against his shoulder, patting him gently on the back.
He needed to stop calling him the baby. But he still had no name, and his only living parent couldn't stand the sight of him. What would Maman want him to be called? His parents hadn't discussed baby names with him.
Philippe glanced at the cluster of family photographs hanging on the wall. There was Philippe aged six, Delphine and Emilie posed in front of the fireplace, a picture of his uncle who had been lost at sea when Philippe was four.
Raoul was his mother's beloved younger brother. And it might just be the name for the little bundle his arms.
Raoul de Chagny. It had a certain ring to it.