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allowed　maternal　love　to　have　its　way。　The　mother　now　seemed　the　more

delightful　because　her　motherhood　had　blossomed　late。　Like　all

generous　persons；　she　passed　through　sensitive　phases　of　feeling　that

she　mistook　for　remorse。　Believing　that　she　had　defrauded　her　children

of　the　tenderness　that　should　have　been　theirs；　she　sought　to　redeem

those　imaginary　wrongs；　bestowing　attentions　and　tender　cares　which

made　her　precious　to　them；　she　longed　to　make　her　children　live；　as　it

were；　within　her　heart；　to　shelter　them　beneath　her　feeble　wings；　to

cherish　them　enough　in　the　few　remaining　days　to　redeem　the　time

during　which　she　had　neglected　them。　The　sufferings　of　her　mind　gave

to　her　words　and　her　caresses　a　glowing　warmth　that　issued　from　her

soul。　Her　eyes　caressed　her　children；　her　voice　with　its　yearning

intonations　touched　their　hearts；　her　hand　showered　blessings　on　their

heads。







CHAPTER　IX



The　good　people　of　Douai　were　not　surprised　that　visitors　were　no

longer　received　at　the　House　of　Claes；　and　that　Balthazar　gave　no　more

fetes　on　the　anniversary　of　his　marriage。　Madame　Claes's　state　of

health　seemed　a　sufficient　reason　for　the　change；　and　the　payment　of

her　husband's　debts　put　a　stop　to　the　current　gossip；　moreover；　the

political　vicissitudes　to　which　Flanders　was　subjected；　the　war　of　the

Hundred…days；　and　the　occupation　of　the　Allied　armies；　put　the　chemist

and　his　researches　completely　out　of　people's　minds。　During　those　two

years　Douai　was　so　often　on　the　point　of　being　taken；　it　was　so

constantly　occupied　either　by　the　French　or　by　the　enemy；　so　many

foreigners　came　there；　so　many　of　the　country…people　sought　refuge

within　its　walls；　so　many　lives　were　in　peril；　so　many　catastrophes

occurred；　that　each　man　thought　only　of　himself。



The　Abbe　de　Solis　and　his　nephew；　and　the　two　Pierquins；　doctor　and

lawyer；　were　the　only　persons　who　now　visited　Madame　Claes；　for　whom

the　winter　of　1814…1815　was　a　long　and　dreary　death…scene。　Her　husband

rarely　came　to　see　her。　It　is　true　that　after　dinner　he　remained　some

hours　in　the　parlor；　near　her　bed；　but　as　she　no　longer　had　the

strength　to　keep　up　a　conversation；　he　merely　said　a　few　words；

invariably　the　same；　sat　down；　spoke　no　more；　and　a　dreary　silence

settled　down　upon　the　room。　The　monotony　of　this　existence　was　broken

only　on　the　days　when　the　Abbe　de　Solis　and　his　nephew　passed　the

evening　with　Madame　Claes。



While　the　abbe　played　backgammon　with　Balthazar；　Marguerite　talked

with　Emmanuel　by　the　bedside　of　her　mother；　who　smiled　at　their

innocent　joy；　not　allowing　them　to　see　how　painful　and　yet　how

soothing　to　her　wounded　spirit　were　the　fresh　breezes　of　their　virgin

love；　murmuring　in　fitful　words　from　heart　to　heart。　The　inflection　of

their　voices；　to　them　so　full　of　charm；　to　her　was　heart…breaking；　a

glance　of　mutual　understanding　surprised　between　the　two　threw　her；

half…dead　as　she　was；　back　to　the　young　and　happy　past　which　gave　such

bitterness　to　the　present。　Emmanuel　and　Marguerite　with　intuitive

delicacy　of　feeling　repressed　the　sweet　half…childish　play　of　love；

lest　it　should　hurt　the　saddened　woman　whose　wounds　they　instinctively

divined。



No　one　has　yet　remarked　that　feelings　have　an　existence　of　their　own；

a　nature　which　is　developed　by　the　circumstances　that　environ　them；

and　in　which　they　are　born；　they　bear　a　likeness　to　the　places　of

their　growth；　and　keep　the　imprint　of　the　ideas　that　influenced　their

development。　There　are　passions　ardently　conceived　which　remain

ardent；　like　that　of　Madame　Claes　for　her　husband：　there　are

sentiments　on　which　all　life　has　smiled；　these　retain　their　spring…

time　gaiety；　their　harvest…time　of　joy；　seasons　that　never　fail　of

laughter　or　of　fetes；　but　there　are　other　loves；　framed　in　melancholy；

circled　by　distress；　whose　pleasures　are　painful；　costly；　burdened　by

fears；　poisoned　by　remorse；　or　blackened　by　despair。　The　love　in　the

heart　of　Marguerite　and　Emmanuel；　as　yet　unknown　to　them　for　love；　the

sentiment　that　budded　into　life　beneath　the　gloomy　arches　of　the

picture…gallery；　beside　the　stern　old　abbe；　in　a　still　and　silent

moment；　that　love　so　grave　and　so　discreet；　yet　rich　in　tender　depths；

in　secret　delights　that　were　luscious　to　the　taste　as　stolen　grapes

snatched　from　a　corner　of　the　vineyard；　wore　in　coming　years　the

sombre　browns　and　grays　that　surrounded　the　hour　of　its　birth。



Fearing　to　give　expression　to　their　feelings　beside　that　bed　of　pain；

they　unconsciously　increased　their　happiness　by　a　concentration　which

deepened　its　imprint　on　their　hearts。　The　devotion　of　the　daughter；

shared　by　Emmanuel；　happy　in　thus　uniting　himself　with　Marguerite　and

becoming　by　anticipation　the　son　of　her　mother；　was　their　medium　of

communication。　Melancholy　thanks　from　the　lips　of　the　young　girl

supplanted　the　honeyed　language　of　lovers；　the　sighing　of　their

hearts；　surcharged　with　joy　at　some　interchange　of　looks；　was　scarcely

distinguishable　from　the　sighs　wrung　from　them　by　the　mother's

sufferings。　Their　happy　little　moments　of　indirect　avowal；　of

unuttered　promises；　of　smothered　effusion；　were　like　the　allegories　of

Raphael　painted　on　a　black　ground。　Each　felt　a　certainty　that　neither

avowed；　they　knew　the　sun　was　shining　over　them；　but　they　could　not

know　what　wind　might　chase　away　the　clouds　that　gathered　about　their

heads。　They　doubted　the　future；　fearing　that　pain　would　ever　follow

them；　they　stayed　timidly　among　the　shadows　of　the　twilight；　not

daring　to　say　to　each　other；　〃Shall　we　end　our　days　together？〃



The　tenderness　which　Madame　Claes　now　testified　for　her　children　nobly

concealed　much　that　she　endeavored　to　hide　from　herself。　Her　children

caused　her　neither　fear　nor　passionate　emotion：　they　were　her

comforters；　but　they　were　not　her　life：　she　lived　by　them；　she　died

through　Balthazar。　However　painful　her　husband's　presence　might　be　to

her；　lost　as　he　was　for　hours　together　in　depths　of　thought　from　which

he　looked　at　her　without　seeing　her；　it　was　only　during　those　cruel

moments　that　she　forgot　her　griefs。　His　indifference　to　the　dying

woman　would　have　seemed　criminal　to　a　stranger；　but　Madame　Claes　and

her　daughters　were　accustomed　to　it；　they　knew　his　heart　and　they

forgave　him。　If；　during　the　daytime；　Josephine　was　seized　by　some

sudden　illness；　if　she　were　worse　and　seemed　near　dying；　Claes　was　the

only　person　in　the　house　or　in　the　town　who　remained　ignorant　of　it。

Lemulquinier　knew　it；　but　neither　the　daughters；　bound　to　silence　by

their　mother；　nor　Josephine　herself　let　Balthazar　know　the　danger　of

the　being　he　had　once　so　passionately　loved。



When　his　heavy　step　sounded　in　the　gallery　as　he　came　to　dinner；

Madame　Claes　was　happyshe　was　about　to　see　him！　and　she　gathered　up

her　strength　for　that　happiness。　As　he　entered；　the　pallid　face

blushed　brightly　and　recovered　for　an　instant　the　semblance　of　health。

Balthazar　came　to　her　bedside；　took　her　hand；　saw　the　misleading　color

on　her　cheek；　and　to　him　she　seemed　well。　When　he　asked；　〃My　dear

wife；　how　are　you　to…day？〃　she　answered；　〃Better；　dear　friend；〃　and

made　him　think　she　would　be　up　and　recovered　on　the　morrow。　His

preoccupation　was　so　great　that　he　accepted　this　reply；　and　believed

the　illness　of　which　his　wife　was　dying　a　mere　indisposition。　Dying　to

the　eyes　of　the　world；　in　his　alone　she　was　living。



A　complete　separation　between　husband　and　wife　was　the　result　of　this

year。　Claes　slept　in　a　distant　chamber；　got　up　early　in　the　morning；

and　shut　himself　into　his　laboratory　or　his　study。　Seeing　his　wife

only　in　presence　of　his　daughters　or　of　the　two　or　three　friends　who

came　to　visit　them；　he　lost　the　habit　of　communicating　with　her。　These

two　beings；　formerly　accustomed　to　think　as　one；　no　longer；　unless　at

rare　intervals；　enjoyed　those　moments　of　communion；　of　passionate

unreserve　which　feed　the　life　of　the　heart；　and　finally　there　came　a

time　when　even　these　rare　pleasures　ceased。　Physical　suffering　was　now

a　boon　to　the　poor　woman；　helping　her　to　endure　the　void　of

separation；　which　might　have　killed　her　had　she　been　truly　living。　Her

bodily　pain　became　so　great　that　there　were　times　when　she　was　joyful

in　the　thought　that　he　whom　she　loved　was　not　a　witness　of　it。　She　lay

watching　Balthazar　in　the　evening　hours；　and　knowing　him　happy　in　his

own　way；　she　lived　in　the　happiness　she　had　procured　for　him；a

shadowy　joy；　and　yet　it　satisfied　her。　She　no　longer　asked　herself　if

she　were　loved；　she　forced　herself　to　believe　it；　and　she　glided　over

that　icy　surface；　not　daring　to　rest　her　weight　upon　it　lest　it　should

break　and　drown　her　soul　in　a　gulf　of　awful　nothingness。



No　events　stirred　the　calm　of　this　existence；　the　malady　that　was

slowly　consuming　Madame　Claes　added　to　the　household　stillness；　and　in

this　condition　of　passive　gloom　the　House　of　Claes　reached　the　first

weeks　of　the　year　1816。　Pierquin；　the　lawyer；　was　destined；　at　the

close　of　February；　to　strike　the　death…blow　of　the　fragile　woman　who；

in　the　words　of　the　Abbe　de　Solis；　was　well…nigh　without　sin。



〃Madame；〃　said　Pierquin；　seizing　a　moment　when　her　daughters　could　not

hear　the　conversation；　〃Monsieur　Claes　has　directed　me　to　borrow　three

hundred　thousand　francs　on　his　property。　You　must　do　something　to

protect　the　future　of　your　children。〃



Madame　Claes　clasped　her　hands　and　raised　her　eyes　to　the　ceiling；

then　she　thanked　the　notary　with　a　sad　smile　and　a　kindly　motion　of

her　head　which　affected　him。



His　words　were　the　stab　that　killed　her。　During　that　day　she　had

yielded　herself　up　to　sad　reflections　which　swelled　her　heart；　she　was

like　the　wayfarer　walking　beside　a　precipice　who　loses　his　balance　and

a　mere　pebble　rolls　him　to　the　depth　of　the　abyss　he　had　so　long　and

so　courageously　skirted。　When　the　notary　left　her；　Madame　Claes　told

Marguerite　to　bring　writing　materials；　then　she　gather