We are but women.

Mercy! mercy! mercy!" "Speak out then," groaned Raynal.

"What does this mean?
Why has my wife swooned at sight of me ?--whose is this child ?" "Whose ?" stammered Rose.

Till he said that, she never thought there COULD be a doubt whose child.
Dring! dring! dring! dring! dring! "Oh, my God!" cried the poor girl, and her scared eyes glanced every way like some wild creature looking for a hole, however small, to escape by.
Edouard, seeing her hesitation, came down on her other side.

"Whose is the child, Rose ?" said he sternly.
"You, too?
Why were we born?
mercy! oh! pray let me go to my sister." Dring! dring! dring! dring! dring! went the terrible bell.
The men were excited to fury by Rose's hesitation; they each seized an arm, and tore her screaming with fear at their violence, from her knees up to her feet between them with a single gesture.
"Whose is the child ?" "You hurt me!" said she bitterly to Edouard, and she left crying and was terribly calm and sullen all in a moment.
"Whose is the child ?" roared Edouard and Raynal, in one raging breath.
"Whose is the child ?" "It is mine.".