He was so stiff and tall and distinguished-looking, with such a big, aristocratic nose, and he made a kind of bend every time she happened to look at him, and assured her that there was no hurry--not the least! They never woke before nine at the Consul's, so there was still plenty of time.

And then he looked at his watch.
And every time he looked at his watch, she looked at her boy: there were now orders and a time fixed for her to leave him.
He had fallen asleep again.

If he were to wake, she did not know what would happen--she was sure she could not leave him then.
"No hurry, no hurry!" and he took the thick silver watch out of his pocket once more.
But now it was she who was in a hurry, and so eager that she gave herself no time to look round before she was seated in the carriage, and the long, stiff-necked, braided coachman was driving her away along the road of her appointed destiny.
In the summer she accompanied the Consul-General's family to a bathing-place.

There Barbara wheeled the perambulator with the two children in it along the shore, and more than once the Veyergangs were flattered by the exclamations of passers-by: "What a fine-looking nurse!" But there were difficulties with her, too--fits of melancholy to which she completely gave way.

She would sit by the cradle, her eyes red with weeping, longing for her child, and would neither eat nor drink.
This was a matter of no little importance.