THE SEARCH FOR THE ABSOLUTE

(ALCHEMICAL NOVEL)

Honoré de Balzac ( 1799-1850)

PHILOSOPHICAL STUDIES


TO MRS JOSEPHINE DELANNOY, NEE DOUMERC.
Madam, may God grant that this work may have a longer life than mine; the gratitude that I have dedicated to you, and which, I hope, will equal your almost maternal affection for me, would then persist beyond the term set for our feelings. This sublime privilege of thus extending the existence of the heart through the life of our works would be enough, if there were ever a certainty in this regard, to console all the sorrows it costs those whose ambition is to conquer it. So I will repeat: God willing!

BY BALZAC.

There is a house in Douai in the rue de Paris whose appearance, interior arrangements and details have, more than those of any other dwelling, preserved the character of the old Flemish constructions, so naively appropriate to the patriarchal mores of this good country. ; but before describing it, perhaps it is necessary to establish in the interest of writers the necessity of these didactic preparations against which certain ignorant and voracious people protest who would like emotions without undergoing their generating principles, the flower without the seed, the child without gestation . Would Art therefore be required to be stronger than Nature?

The events of human life, whether public or private, are so intimately linked to architecture that most observers can reconstruct nations or individuals in all the truth of their habits, from the remains of their monuments. public or by the examination of their domestic relics. Archeology is to social nature what comparative anatomy is to organized nature. A mosaic reveals an entire society, just as an ichthyosaur skeleton reveals an entire creation. On both sides, everything is deduced, everything is linked together. The cause makes us guess an effect, just as each effect allows us to go back to a cause. The scholar thus resurrects even the warts of old ages. From this undoubtedly comes the prodigious interest that an architectural description inspires when the writer's imagination does not distort its elements; cannot everyone connect it to the past by severe deductions; and, for man, the past bears a singular resemblance to the future: telling him what was is not almost always telling him what will be? Finally, it is rare that the painting of places where life flows does not remind everyone of their betrayed wishes or their blossoming hopes.

The comparison between a present which deceives secret desires and the future which can realize them, is an inexhaustible source of melancholy or sweet satisfaction. Also, it is almost impossible not to be overcome by a kind of emotion at the painting of Flemish life, when the accessories are well rendered. For what? Perhaps it is, among the different existences, the one which best puts an end to man's uncertainties. It is not without all the festivals, without all the family ties, without a rich ease which attests to the continuity of well-being, without a rest which resembles beatitude; but above all it expresses the calm and monotony of a naively sensual happiness where enjoyment stifles desire by always preventing it.Whatever value the passionate man may attach to the tumults of feelings, he never sees without emotion the images of this social nature where the beats of the heart are so well regulated, that superficial people accuse him of coldness.

The crowd generally prefers abnormal force that overflows to even force that persists. The crowd has neither the time nor the patience to see the immense power hidden beneath a uniform appearance. Also, to strike this crowd carried away by the current of life, passion, like the great artist, has no other resource than to go beyond the goal, as did Michelangelo, Bianca Capello, Mademoiselle de La Vallière, Beethowen and Paganini. Only great calculators think that one must never exceed the goal, and only have respect for the virtuality imprinted in a perfect accomplishment which puts into all work that profound calm whose charm seizes superior men. However, the life adopted by this essentially economical people fulfills the conditions of happiness that the masses dream of for civic and bourgeois life. The most exquisite materiality is imprinted in all Flemish habits.

English comfort offers dry shades, hard tones; while in Flanders the old interior of households delights the eye with soft colors and true good-naturedness; it involves work without fatigue; the pipe denotes a happy application of far away Neapolitan; then, he shows a peaceful feeling for art, its most necessary condition, patience; and the element that makes its creations lasting, consciousness. The Flemish character is in these two words, patience and conscience, which seem to exclude the rich nuances of poetry and make the morals of this country as flat as are its broad plains, as cold as is its misty sky; but this is not the case. Civilization has deployed its power there by modifying everything, even the effects of the climate. If we carefully observe the products of the various countries of the globe, we are first of all surprised to see the gray and fawn colors specially assigned to the productions of temperate zones, while the most vibrant colors distinguish those of warm countries. Morals must necessarily conform to this law of nature.

Flanders, who formerly was essentially brown and devoted to solid colors, found the means to add luster to its sooty atmosphere through the political vicissitudes which successively subjected it to the Burgundians, the Spaniards, the French, and made him fraternize with the Germans and the Dutch. From Spain, they have kept the luxury of scarlet, brilliant satins, tapestries with a vigorous effect, feathers, mandolins, and courtly forms.From Venice, they got, in return for their canvases and lace, this fantastic glassware where the wine shines and seems better. From Austria, they have preserved that heavy diplomacy which, according to a popular saying, takes three steps in a bushel. Trade with India brought the grotesque inventions of China and the wonders of Japan. Nevertheless, despite their patience in hoarding everything, in giving nothing back, in putting up with everything, Flanders could hardly be considered other than the general store of Europe, until the moment when the discovery of tobacco united the features with smoke. scattered from their national physiognomy.

From then on, despite the fragmentation of its territory, the Flemish people existed through pipes and beer. After having assimilated, through the constant economy of its conduct, the wealth and ideas of its masters or its neighbors, this country, so natively dull and void of poetry, composed for itself an original life and characteristic morals, without appearing tainted with servility. Art stripped away all ideality to reproduce only Form. So do not ask from this homeland plastic poetry, nor the verve of comedy, nor dramatic action, nor the bold outbursts of the epic or the ode, nor musical genius; but it is fertile in discoveries, in doctoral discussions which require both time and light. Everything is struck at the corner of temporal enjoyment. Man sees exclusively what is, his thought bends so scrupulously to serve the needs of life that in no work has it soared beyond this world.

The only idea of ​​the future conceived by these people was a sort of economy in politics, its revolutionary force came from the domestic desire to have free rein at the table and complete ease under the canopy of its steedes . The feeling of well-being and the spirit of independence that fortune inspires generated, there earlier than elsewhere, this need for freedom which later affected Europe. Also, the constancy of their ideas and the tenacity that education gives to the Flemings once made them formidable men in the defense of their rights.

Among these people, nothing is created by halves, neither the houses, nor the furniture, nor the dike, nor the culture, nor the revolt. So he keeps a monopoly on what he does. The manufacture of lace, the work of patient agriculture and more patient industry, that of its canvas are hereditary like its patrimonial fortunes. If we had to paint constancy in the purest human form, perhaps we would be right, by taking the portrait of a good mayor of the Netherlands, capable, as we have often encountered, to die bourgeois and without distinction for the interests of his Hanse .But the sweet poetry of this patriarchal life will naturally be found in the painting of one of the last houses which, at the time when this story begins, still preserved its character in Douai.

Of all the towns in the Nord department, Douai is, alas! the one which is modernizing the most, where innovative sentiment has made the most rapid conquests, where the love of social progress is most widespread. There, the old buildings are disappearing day by day, the ancient customs are fading away. The tone, the fashions, the manners of Paris dominate there; and of the old Flemish life, the Douaisians will soon have only the cordiality of hospital care, Spanish courtesy, the wealth and cleanliness of Holland. White stone hotels will have brick replaced houses. The opulent Batavian forms will have given way to the changing elegance of French novelties.

The house where the events of this story took place is located approximately in the middle of the rue de Paris, and has borne the name of Maison Claës in Douai for more than two hundred years. The Van-Claës were once one of the most famous families of artisans to whom the Netherlands owed, in several productions, commercial supremacy which they have kept. For a long time the Claës were in the city of Ghent, from father to son, the leaders of the powerful brotherhood of Weavers. During the revolt of this great city against Charles V who wanted to suppress his privileges, the wealth of the Claës was so strongly compromised that, foreseeing a catastrophe and forced to share the fate of his companions, he secretly sent, under the protection of France , his wife, his children and his wealth, before the emperor's troops had invested the city.

The predictions of the Syndic des Tisserands were correct. He was, like several other bourgeois, except from the capitulation and hung as a rebel, while he was in reality the defender of Ghent's independence. The death of Claës and his companions bore fruit. Later these useless tortures cost the king of Spain most of his possessions in the Netherlands. Of all the seeds entrusted to the earth, the blood shed by the martyrs is that which gives the most prompt harvest. When Philip II, who punished the revolt until the second generation, extended his iron scepter over Douai, the Claës retained their great property, allying themselves with the very noble family of Molina, whose eldest branch, then poor, became rich enough to be able to buy back the county of Nourho which she only owned titularly in the kingdom of Léon. At the beginning of the nineteenth century, after vicissitudes of which the picture would not offer anything interesting, the Claës family was represented, in the branch established in Douai, by the person of Mr. Balthazar Claës-Molina, Count of Nourho, who wanted to call himself simply Balthazar Claës.

From the immense fortune amassed by his ancestors who operated a thousand trades, Balthazar was left with approximately fifteen thousand pounds of income from land in the district of Douai, and the house on rue de Paris whose furniture was indeed worth a fortune. As for the possessions of the kingdom of Leon, they had been the subject of a lawsuit between the Molinas of Flanders and the branch of this family that remained in Spain. The Molina de Léon gained the domains and took the title of counts of Nourho, although the Claës alone had the right to wear it; but the vanity of the Belgian bourgeoisie was superior to the Castilian arrogance. Also, when the Civil State was established, Balthazar Claës left aside the rags of his Spanish nobility for his great Ghent illustration.Patriotic feeling exists so strongly among the exiled families that until the last days of the eighteenth century, the Claës remained faithful to their traditions, their morals and their customs.

They only allied themselves with families of the purest bourgeoisie; they needed a certain number of aldermen or mayors on the bride's side to admit her into their family. Finally they went to find their wives in Bruges or Ghent, Liège or Holland in order to perpetuate the customs of their domestic hearth. Towards the end of the last century, their society, more and more restricted, was limited to seven or eight families of parliamentary nobility whose morals, including the large-pleated toga, whose magisterial gravity that was half-Spanish, were in harmony with their clothes. The townspeople had a sort of religious respect for this family, which for them was like a prejudice. The constant honesty, the unblemished loyalty of the Claës, their invariable decorum made them a superstition as inveterate as that of the Gayant festival, and well expressed by this name, the Maison Claës. The spirit of old Flanders breathed entirely in this house, which offered lovers of bourgeois antiques the type of modest houses built by the rich bourgeoisie in the Middle Ages.

The main ornament of the facade was a door with two oak leaves garnished with nails arranged in a staggered pattern, in the center of which the Claës had had two coupled shuttles sculpted out of pride. The bay of this door, built of sandstone, ended in a pointed arch which supported a small lantern surmounted by a cross, and in which could be seen a statuette of Saint Genevieve spinning her distaff. Although time had cast its color on the delicate work of this door and the lantern, the extreme care taken by the people of the house allowed passers-by to grasp all the details.

Also the doorframe, made up of assembled columns, retained a dark gray color and shone in such a way as to make it appear that it had been varnished. On each side of the door, on the ground floor, were two windows similar to all those in the house. Their white stone frame ended under the support with a richly decorated shell, at the top with two arches separated by the amount of the cross which divided the glazing into four unequal parts, because the crosspiece placed at the desired height to represent a cross, gave the two lower sides of the window have a dimension almost double that of the upper parts rounded by their arches. The double arcade had as decoration three rows of bricks which advanced one on the other, and of which each brick was alternately protruding or withdrawn by about an inch, so as to draw a Greek pattern.

The windows, small and diamond-shaped, were set in extremely thin iron branches and painted red. The walls, built of bricks repointed with white mortar, were supported at intervals and at the corners by stone chains. The first floor had five windows; the second had only three left, and the attic drew its light from a large round opening with five compartments, lined in sandstone, and placed in the middle of the triangular pediment which the gable described, like the rose in the portal of a cathedral. At the summit rose, as a weathervane, a distaff loaded with flax. The two sides of the large triangle formed by the gable wall were cut squarely by a kind of steps up to the crowning of the first floor, where, to the right and left of the house, fell the rainwater rejected by the mouth of a fantastic animal. At the bottom of the house, a sandstone seat simulated a step. Finally, the last vestige of ancient customs, on each side of the door, between the two windows, was a wooden trapdoor lined with large iron strips on the street, through which one entered the cellars.

Since its construction, this facade has been carefully cleaned twice a year. If some mortar was missing in a joint, the hole was immediately filled. The windows, the supports, the stones,everything was dusted better than the most precious marbles are dusted in Paris. This front of the house therefore showed no trace of deterioration. Despite the dark tints caused by the very dilapidation of the brick, it was as well preserved as an old painting, an old book cherished by an amateur and which would always be new, if they did not suffer, under the bell of our atmosphere, the influence of gases whose malignity threatens us ourselves. The cloudy sky, the humid temperature of Flanders and the shadows produced by the narrow width of the street very often took away from this construction the luster which it borrowed from its sought-after cleanliness which, moreover, made it cold and sad to the eye .

A poet would have liked a few herbs in the days of the lantern or moss on the cutouts of the sandstone, he would have wished that these rows of bricks had cracked, that under the arcades of the windows, some swallow had built its nest in the triple boxes red which decorated them. Also the finish, the clean air of this facade half worn by friction gave it a dryly honest and decently estimable appearance, which, certainly, would have made a romantic move, if he had lived opposite. When a visitor had pulled the cord of the woven iron bell which hung along the door frame, and the servant from inside had opened the leaf for him, in the middle of which was a small grille, this leaf immediately escaped from the hand, carried away by its weight, and fell, making under the vaults of a spacious paved gallery and in the depths of the house, a deep and heavy sound as if the door had been made of bronze.

This gallery painted in marble, always fresh, and strewn with a layer of fine sand, led to a large square interior courtyard, paved with large glazed tiles of a greenish color. On the left were the linen room, the kitchens, the people's room; on the right the pyre, the charcoal store and the outbuildings of the house whose doors, windows and walls were decorated with designs maintained in exquisite cleanliness. The daylight, filtered between four red walls striped with white nets, contracted reflections and pink tints which lent to the figures and the smallest details a mysterious grace and fantastic appearances. the humid temperature of Flanders and the shadows produced by the narrow width of the street very often took away from this construction the luster it borrowed from its sought-after cleanliness which, moreover, made it cold and sad to the eye.

A poet would have liked a few herbs in the days of the lantern or moss on the cutouts of the sandstone, he would have wished that these rows of bricks had cracked, that under the arcades of the windows, some swallow had built its nest in the triple boxes red which decorated them.Also the finish, the clean air of this facade half worn by friction gave it a dryly honest and decently estimable appearance, which, certainly, would have made a romantic move, if he had lived opposite. When a visitor had pulled the cord of the woven iron bell which hung along the door frame, and the servant from inside had opened the leaf for him, in the middle of which was a small grille, this leaf immediately escaped from the hand, carried away by its weight, and fell, making under the vaults of a spacious paved gallery and in the depths of the house, a deep and heavy sound as if the door had been made of bronze. This gallery painted in marble, always fresh, and strewn with a layer of fine sand, led to a large square interior courtyard, paved with large glazed tiles of a greenish color. On the left were the linen room, the kitchens, the people's room; on the right the pyre, the charcoal store and the outbuildings of the house whose doors, windows and walls were decorated with designs maintained in exquisite cleanliness. The daylight, filtered between four red walls striped with white nets, contracted reflections and pink tints which lent to the figures and the smallest details a mysterious grace and fantastic appearances. the humid temperature of Flanders and the shadows produced by the narrow width of the street very often took away from this construction the luster it borrowed from its sought-after cleanliness which, moreover, made it cold and sad to the eye.

A poet would have liked a few herbs in the days of the lantern or moss on the cutouts of the sandstone, he would have wished that these rows of bricks had cracked, that under the arcades of the windows, some swallow had built its nest in the triple boxes red which decorated them. Also the finish, the clean air of this facade half worn by friction gave it a dryly honest and decently estimable appearance, which, certainly, would have made a romantic move, if he had lived opposite. When a visitor had pulled the cord of the woven iron bell which hung along the door frame, and the servant from inside had opened the leaf for him, in the middle of which was a small grille, this leaf immediately escaped from the hand, carried away by its weight, and fell, making under the vaults of a spacious paved gallery and in the depths of the house, a deep and heavy sound as if the door had been made of bronze.

This gallery painted in marble, always fresh, and strewn with a layer of fine sand, led to a large square interior courtyard, paved with large glazed tiles of a greenish color. On the left were the linen room, the kitchens, the people's room; on the right the pyre, the charcoal store and the outbuildings of the house whose doors, windows and walls were decorated with designs maintained in exquisite cleanliness.The daylight, filtered between four red walls striped with white nets, contracted reflections and pink tints which lent to the figures and the smallest details a mysterious grace and fantastic appearances. and fell, making under the vaults of a spacious paved gallery and in the depths of the house, a deep and heavy sound as if the door had been made of bronze. This gallery painted in marble, always fresh, and strewn with a layer of fine sand, led to a large square interior courtyard, paved with large glazed tiles of a greenish color.

On the left were the linen room, the kitchens, the people's room; on the right the pyre, the charcoal store and the outbuildings of the house whose doors, windows and walls were decorated with designs maintained in exquisite cleanliness. The daylight, filtered between four red walls striped with white nets, contracted reflections and pink tints which lent to the figures and the smallest details a mysterious grace and fantastic appearances. and fell, making under the vaults of a spacious paved gallery and in the depths of the house, a deep and heavy sound as if the door had been made of bronze. This gallery painted in marble, always fresh, and strewn with a layer of fine sand, led to a large square interior courtyard, paved with large glazed tiles of a greenish color. On the left were the linen room, the kitchens, the people's room; on the right the pyre, the charcoal store and the outbuildings of the house whose doors, windows and walls were decorated with designs maintained in exquisite cleanliness. The daylight, filtered between four red walls striped with white nets, contracted reflections and pink tints which lent to the figures and the smallest details a mysterious grace and fantastic appearances.

A second house, absolutely similar to the building located at the front of the street, and which, in Flanders, bears the name of back quarter, stood at the back of this courtyard and was used solely for the family's habitation. On the ground floor, the first room was a parlor lit by two windows on the courtyard side, and by two others which opened onto a garden whose width equaled that of the house. Two parallel glass doors led one to the garden, the other to the courtyard, and corresponded to the street door, so that, upon entering, a stranger could take in the whole of this residence, and even see the foliage which covered the bottom of the garden.

The front dwelling, intended for receptions, and whose second floor contained the apartments to be given to foreigners, certainly contained objects of art and great accumulated wealth; but nothing could equal, in the eyes of the Claës, nor in the judgment of a connoisseur, the treasures which adorned this room, where, for two centuries, the life of the family had passed. The Claës, who died for the cause of Ghent's freedoms, the craftsman of whom we would take too little an idea, if the historian failed to say that he owned nearly forty thousand marks of silver, earned in the manufacture of sails necessary for the all -powerful Venetian navy;

This Claës had as a friend the famous wooden sculptor Van-Huysium from Bruges. Many times, the artist had drawn on the artisan's purse. Some time before the Ghent revolt, Van-Huysium, having become rich, had secretly carved for his friend a piece of solid ebony woodwork depicting the main scenes from the life of Artewelde, this brewer, at one time king of Flanders. This covering, composed of sixty panels, contained approximately fourteen hundred main characters, and was considered Van-Huysium's capital work. The captain responsible for guarding the bourgeois whom Charles V had decided to hang on the day of his entry into his native town, offered, it is said, to Van-Claës to let him escape if he gave him Van-Claës's work. -Huysium, but the weaver had sent it to France.

This parlor, entirely wooded with these panels which, out of respect for the martyr's manes, Van-Huysium himself came to frame with wood painted in ultramarine mixed with gold threads, is therefore the most complete work of this master, the smallest pieces of which today are paid for almost by the weight of gold. Above the fireplace, Van-Claës, painted by Titian in his costume as president of the Parchons tribunal, seemed to still be leading this family who venerated their great man in him. The fireplace, originally in stone, with a very high mantle, had been rebuilt in white marble in the last century, and supported an old cartel and two candlesticks with five convoluted branches, in bad taste,but in solid silver. The four windows were decorated with large curtains in red damask, with black flowers, lined with white silk, and the furniture of the same fabric had been renewed under Louis XIV. The parquet floor, obviously modern, was made up of large slabs of white wood framed by strips of oak. The ceiling made up of several cartridges, at the bottom of which was a mask chiseled by Van-Huysium, had been respected and retained the brown tones of the Dutch oak.

At the four corners of this parlor stood truncated columns, surmounted by candlesticks similar to those of the fireplace, a round table occupied the middle. Along the walls, playing tables were symmetrically arranged. On two gilded consoles, with white marble tops, were located at the time when this story begins two glass globes full of water in which red, gold or silver fish were swimming on a bed of sand and shells. This room was both bright and dark. The ceiling necessarily absorbed the light, without reflecting any of it. If on the garden side the daylight was abundant and came to flicker in the shapes of the ebony, the windows of the courtyard giving little light barely made the gold threads printed on the opposite walls shine. This parlor, so magnificent on a fine day, was therefore, most of the time, filled with the soft hues, the red and melancholic tones that the sun sheds on the tops of the forests in autumn. It is useless to continue the description of the Claës house in the other parts of which several scenes of this story will necessarily take place; it is enough, at this moment, to know the main provisions. barely made the lines of gold printed on the opposite walls shine.

This parlor, so magnificent on a fine day, was therefore, most of the time, filled with the soft hues, the red and melancholic tones that the sun sheds on the tops of the forests in autumn. It is useless to continue the description of the Claës house in the other parts of which several scenes of this story will necessarily take place; it is enough, at this moment, to know the main provisions. barely made the lines of gold printed on the opposite walls shine. This parlor, so magnificent on a fine day, was therefore, most of the time, filled with the soft hues, the red and melancholic tones that the sun sheds on the tops of the forests in autumn. It is useless to continue the description of the Claës house in the other parts of which several scenes of this story will necessarily take place; it is enough, at this moment, to know the main provisions.

In 1812, towards the last days of August, on a Sunday, after vespers, a woman was sitting in her wing chair in front of one of the garden windows. The rays of the sun then fell obliquely on the house, took it in a scarf, crossed the parlor, expired in bizarre reflections on the woodwork which lined the walls on the side of the courtyard, and enveloped this woman in the purple zone projected by the curtain of damask draped along the window. A mediocre painter who at that moment would have copied this woman, would certainly have produced a striking work with a head so full of pain and melancholy.

The pose of the body and that of the feet thrown forward showed the despondency of a person who loses consciousness of his physical being in the concentration of his forces absorbed by a fixed thought; she followed its rays into the future, as often, at the seaside, we watch a ray of sun which pierces the clouds and traces some luminous band on the horizon. This woman's hands, thrown back by the arms of the shepherdess, hung outwards, and her head, as if too heavy, rested on the backrest. A very loose white percale dress made it impossible to judge the proportions well, and the bodice was hidden under the folds of a scarf crossed over the chest and carefully tied. Even if the light had not highlighted his face, which it seemed to take pleasure in producing preferentially to the rest of his person, it would have been impossible not to focus exclusively on it; his expression, which would have struck the most carefree of children, was one of persistent and cold stupefaction, despite a few burning tears. Nothing is more terrible to see than this extreme pain which only overflows at rare intervals, but which remained on this face like frozen lava around the volcano.

It was like a dying mother forced to leave her children in an abyss of misery, without being able to leave them any human protection. The physiognomy of this lady, aged about forty years, but then much less far from beauty than she had ever been in her youth, offered none of the characteristics of the Flemish woman. Thick black hair fell in curls over her shoulders and down her cheeks. His forehead, very domed, narrow at the temples, was yellowish, but under this forehead twinkled two black eyes which threw flames. His face, entirely Spanish, brown in tone, little colored, ravaged by smallpox, arrested the eye with the perfection of its oval shape whose contours retained, despite the alteration of the lines, a finish of majestic elegance and which sometimes reappeared entirely if some effort of the soul restored it to its primitive purity. The feature which gave the most distinction to this male face was a nose curved like the beak of an eagle, which, bulging too much towards the middle,seemed internally ill-formed; but there resided there an indescribable delicacy, the partition of the nostrils was so thin that its transparency allowed the light to redden it strongly.

Although the broad and tightly puckered lips showed the pride that high birth inspires, they were imbued with natural kindness and exuded politeness. The beauty of this figure, both vigorous and feminine, could be contested, but it commanded attention. Small, hunchbacked and lame, this woman remained a girl all the longer as people persisted in refusing her wit, nevertheless there were some men who were strongly moved by the passionate ardor expressed by her head, by the signs of an inexhaustible tenderness, and who remained under a charm irreconcilable with so many faults. She took a lot from her ancestor the Duke of Casa-Réal, Grandee of Spain. At that moment, the charm which formerly so despotically seized the souls in love with poetry, burst forth from his head more vigorously than at any moment of his past life, and exerted itself, so to speak, in the void, expressing a will all -powerful fascinator over men, but without force over destinies.

When her eyes left the bowl where she was looking at the fish without seeing them, she raised them with a desperate movement, as if to invoke the sky. His sufferings seemed to be those which can only be confided in God. The silence was disturbed only by crickets, by a few cicadas which cried in the small garden from which the heat of the oven escaped, and by the dull resounding of the silverware, plates and chairs being moved, in the room adjoining the parlor, a busy serving dinner. At this moment, the distressed lady listened and seemed to collect herself, she took her handkerchief, wiped her tears, tried to smile, and destroyed so well the expression of pain engraved in all her features, that one could have believed in this state of indifference where a life free from worries leaves us. Either the habit of living in this house where her infirmities confined her would have enabled her to recognize there some natural effects imperceptible to others and which people prey to extreme feelings keenly seek, or whether nature would have compensated so much of physical disgraces by giving her more delicate sensations than to beings apparently more advantageously organized, this woman had heard the footsteps of a man in a gallery built above the kitchens and the rooms intended for the service of the house, and by which the front quarter communicated with the back quarter.

The sound of footsteps became more and more distinct. So on,without having the power with which a passionate creature like this woman was often able to abolish space to unite with her other self, a stranger would have easily heard this man's step on the stairs by which we descended from the gallery in the parlor. At the sound of this step, the most inattentive being would have been assailed with thoughts, for it was impossible to listen to him coldly. A hasty or jerky gait is frightening. When a man stands up and shouts fire, his feet speak as loud as his voice. If this is so, a contrary approach should not cause less powerful emotions. The serious slowness, the dragging step of this man would undoubtedly have made unthinking people impatient; but an observer or nervous people would have experienced a feeling bordering on terror at the measured sound of these feet from which life seemed absent, and which made the floors creak as if two iron weights had struck them alternately.

You would have recognized the indecisive and heavy step of an old man, or the majestic gait of a thinker who carries worlds with him. When this man had descended the last step, resting his feet on the flagstones with a movement full of hesitation, he remained for a moment in the large landing where the corridor which led to the people's room ended, and from where the parlor was also entered through a door hidden in the woodwork, as was the door leading into the dining room. At this moment, a slight shiver, comparable to the sensation caused by an electric spark, agitated the woman seated in the armchair; but also the sweetest smile animated her lips, and her face, moved by the expectation of pleasure, shone like that of a beautiful Italian Madonna; she suddenly found the strength to repress her terrors to the depths of her soul; then she turned her head towards the panels of the door which was about to open at the corner of the parlor, and which was in fact pushed open with such abruptness that the poor creature seemed to have received a shock. and which made the floors creak as if two iron weights had struck them alternately.

You would have recognized the indecisive and heavy step of an old man, or the majestic gait of a thinker who carries worlds with him. When this man had descended the last step, resting his feet on the flagstones with a movement full of hesitation, he remained for a moment in the large landing where the corridor which led to the people's room ended, and from where the parlor was also entered through a door hidden in the woodwork, as was the door leading into the dining room. At this moment, a slight shiver, comparable to the sensation caused by an electric spark, agitated the woman seated in the armchair;but also the sweetest smile animated her lips, and her face, moved by the expectation of pleasure, shone like that of a beautiful Italian Madonna; she suddenly found the strength to repress her terrors to the depths of her soul; then she turned her head towards the panels of the door which was about to open at the corner of the parlor, and which was in fact pushed open with such abruptness that the poor creature seemed to have received a shock. and which made the floors creak as if two iron weights had struck them alternately.

You would have recognized the indecisive and heavy step of an old man, or the majestic gait of a thinker who carries worlds with him. When this man had descended the last step, resting his feet on the flagstones with a movement full of hesitation, he remained for a moment in the large landing where the corridor which led to the people's room ended, and from where the parlor was also entered through a door hidden in the woodwork, as was the door leading into the dining room. At this moment, a slight shiver, comparable to the sensation caused by an electric spark, agitated the woman seated in the armchair; but also the sweetest smile animated her lips, and her face, moved by the expectation of pleasure, shone like that of a beautiful Italian Madonna; she suddenly found the strength to repress her terrors to the depths of her soul; then she turned her head towards the panels of the door which was about to open at the corner of the parlor, and which was in fact pushed open with such abruptness that the poor creature seemed to have received a shock.

Balthazar Claës suddenly appeared, took a few steps, did not look at this woman, or if he looked at her, did not see her, and remained straight in the middle of the parlor, leaning his slightly inclined head on his right hand. A horrible suffering to which this woman could not get used, although it returned frequently every day, gripped her heart, dissipated her smile, wrinkled her brown forehead between her eyebrows towards that line hollowed out by the frequent expression of extreme feelings; her eyes filled with tears, but she suddenly wiped them away while looking at Balthazar. It was impossible not to be deeply impressed by this head of the Claës family. Young, he must have resembled the sublime martyr who threatened Charles V to start Artewelde again; but at this moment he appeared to be over sixty years old, although he was about fifty, and his premature old age had destroyed this noble resemblance. His tall figure was slightly stooped, either because his work forced him to bend, or because his spine had bulged under the weight of his head.

He had a broad chest, a square bust, but the lower parts of his body were slender, although nervous; and this disagreement in a formerly obviously perfect organization intrigued the mind which sought to explain by some singularity of existence the reasons for this fantastic form. His abundant blond hair, unkempt, fell over his shoulders in the German manner, but in a disorder which harmonized with the general oddity of his person. His broad forehead also offered the protuberances in which Gall placed the poetic worlds. His eyes, of a clear, rich blue, had the abrupt vivacity that has been noted in the great researchers of occult causes. His nose, no doubt once perfect, had lengthened, and the nostrils seemed to gradually open more and more, through an involuntary tension of the olfactory muscles. His hairy cheekbones stood out a lot, his already withered cheeks seemed all the more hollow; her mouth, full of grace, was compressed between her nose and a short chin, suddenly raised.

The shape of his face, however, was longer than oval; also the scientific system which attributes to each human face a resemblance to the face of an animal would have found further proof in that of Balthazar Claës, which could have been compared to a horse's head. His skin stuck to his bones, as if some secret fire had incessantly dried it up; then, at times, when he looked into space as if to find the realization of his hopes, it was as if he were throwing out through his nostrils the flame which was devouring his soul. The deep feelings that animate great men breathed in this pale face heavily furrowed with wrinkles,on this brow furrowed like that of an old king full of worries, but above all in these sparkling eyes whose fire seemed equally increased by the chastity that gives the tyranny of ideas, and by the interior focus of a vast intelligence.

The eyes sunk deep in their sockets seemed to have been surrounded only by the vigils and by the terrible reactions of a hope always disappointed, always reborn. The jealous fanaticism inspired by art or science was further betrayed in this man by a singular and constant distraction to which his dress and posture bore witness, in keeping with the magnificent monstrosity of his physiognomy. His large hairy hands were dirty, his long nails had very dark black lines at their ends. His shoes were either not cleaned or missing cords. Of all his house, only the master could give himself the strange license to be so unclean. His black cloth pants full of stains, his unbuttoned waistcoat, his tie askew, and his greenish coat always unstitched completed a fantastic ensemble of small and large things which, in anyone else, would have detected the misery that vices engender. ; but who, in Balthazar Claës, was the neglected genius. Too often vice and genius produce similar effects, which the vulgar deceive. Isn't Genius a constant excess which devours time, money, the body, and which leads to the hospital even more quickly than evil passions?

Men even seem to have more respect for vices than for Genius, because they refuse to give it credit. It seems that the benefits of the scientist's secret work are so far away that the social state fears to reckon with him during his lifetime, preferring to do so by not forgiving him his misery or misfortunes. Despite his continual forgetting of the present, if Balthazar Claës left his mysterious contemplations, if some gentle and sociable intention revived this thinking face, if his fixed eyes lost their rigid shine to paint a feeling, if he looked around him while returning to the real and vulgar life, it was difficult not to involuntarily pay homage to the seductive beauty of this face, to the graceful spirit that was depicted there. Also, everyone, when they saw him then, regretted that this man no longer belonged to the world, saying: "He must have been very handsome in his youth!" Common error! Balthazar Claës had never been more poetic than he was at this moment. Lavater would certainly have wanted to study this head full of patience, of Flemish loyalty, of candid morality, where everything was broad and grand, where passion seemed calm because it was strong.

This man's morals must have been pure, his word was sacred, his friendship seemed constant, his devotion would have been complete;but the will which uses these qualities for the benefit of the country, the world or the family, had inevitably gone elsewhere. This citizen, required to ensure the happiness of a household, to manage a fortune, to direct his children towards a bright future, lived outside of his duties and his affections in the commerce of some familiar genius. To a priest he would have seemed full of the word of God, an artist would have hailed him as a great master, an enthusiast would have taken him for a Seer of the Swedenborgian Church.

At that moment the destroyed, wild, ruined costume that this man wore contrasted singularly with the graceful pursuits of the woman who admired him so painfully. Counterfeit people who have wit or a beautiful soul bring exquisite taste to their dress. Either they put themselves on simply by understanding that their charm is entirely moral, or they know how to make us forget the disgrace of their proportions by a sort of elegance in the details which entertains the eye and occupies the mind. Not only did this woman have a generous soul, but she loved Balthazar Claës with that female instinct which gives a foretaste of the intelligence of angels. Raised in the midst of one of the most illustrious families in Belgium, she would have acquired a taste for it if she had not already had one; but enlightened by the desire to constantly please the man she loved, she knew how to dress admirably without her elegance being inconsistent with her two conformational vices. Her body only failed at the shoulders, one being noticeably larger than the other.

She looked through the windows, into the inner courtyard, then into the garden, as if to see if she was alone with Balthazar, and said to him in a soft voice, casting him a look full of that submission which distinguishes the Flemish people, because for a long time love had chased away the pride of Spanish greatness between them: - Balthazar, are you very busy?... it is the thirty-third Sunday that you have not come to mass or to vespers. Either they put themselves on simply by understanding that their charm is entirely moral, or they know how to make us forget the disgrace of their proportions by a sort of elegance in the details which entertains the eye and occupies the mind.

Not only did this woman have a generous soul, but she loved Balthazar Claës with that female instinct which gives a foretaste of the intelligence of angels. Raised in the midst of one of the most illustrious families in Belgium, she would have acquired a taste for it if she had not already had one; but enlightened by the desire to constantly please the man she loved, she knew how to dress admirably without her elegance being inconsistent with her two conformational vices.Her body only failed at the shoulders, one being noticeably larger than the other. She looked through the windows, into the inner courtyard, then into the garden, as if to see if she was alone with Balthazar, and said to him in a soft voice, casting him a look full of that submission which distinguishes the Flemish people, because for a long time love had chased away the pride of Spanish greatness between them: - Balthazar, are you very busy?... it is the thirty-third Sunday that you have not come to mass or to vespers.

Either they put themselves on simply by understanding that their charm is entirely moral, or they know how to make us forget the disgrace of their proportions by a sort of elegance in the details which entertains the eye and occupies the mind. Not only did this woman have a generous soul, but she loved Balthazar Claës with that female instinct which gives a foretaste of the intelligence of angels. Raised in the midst of one of the most illustrious families in Belgium, she would have acquired a taste for it if she had not already had one; but enlightened by the desire to constantly please the man she loved, she knew how to dress admirably without her elegance being inconsistent with her two conformational vices.

Her body only failed at the shoulders, one being noticeably larger than the other. She looked through the windows, into the inner courtyard, then into the garden, as if to see if she was alone with Balthazar, and said to him in a soft voice, casting him a look full of that submission which distinguishes the Flemish people, because for a long time love had chased away the pride of Spanish greatness between them:

- Balthazar, are you very busy?... it is the thirty-third Sunday that you have not come to mass or to vespers.

Claës did not answer; his wife lowered her head, clasped her hands and waited, she knew that this silence showed neither contempt nor disdain, but tyrannical preoccupations. Balthazar was one of those beings who retained their youthful delicacy for a long time deep in their hearts; he would have found it criminal to express the slightest hurtful thought to a woman overwhelmed by the feeling of his physical disgrace. He alone, perhaps, among men, knew that a word, a look can erase years of happiness, and are all the more cruel as they contrast more strongly with constant gentleness; for our nature leads us to feel more pain from a dissonance in happiness than we feel pleasure from encountering enjoyment in misfortune. A few moments later, Balthazar seemed to wake up, looked quickly around him, and said: - Vespers? Ha! the children are at vespers. He took a few steps to cast his eyes over the garden where magnificent tulips were growing everywhere; but he stopped suddenly as if he had run into a wall, and exclaimed: - Why should they not combine in a given time?

- Would he then go crazy? the woman said to herself with deep terror.

To give more interest to the scene that this situation caused, it is essential to take a look at the previous life of Balthazar Claës and the granddaughter of the Duke of Casa-Réal.

Around the year 1783, Mr. Balthazar Claës-Molina de Nourho, then aged twenty-two, could pass for what we in France called a handsome man. He came to complete his education in Paris where he acquired excellent manners in the society of Madame d'Egmont, the Count of Horn, the Prince of Aremberg, the Spanish ambassador, Helvétius, and French people from Belgium, or people who came from this country, and whose birth or their fortune made them number among the great lords who, at that time, set the tone. Young Claës found there some parents and friends who launched him into the big world at the moment when this big world was about to fall; but like most young people, he was more seduced at first by glory and science than by vanity. He therefore frequented a lot of scientists and particularly Lavoisier, who was then recommended to public attention more by the immense fortune of a farmer-general, than by his discoveries in chemistry; while later, the great chemist was to make the little farmer-general forget.

Balthazar became passionate about the science that Lavoisier cultivated and became his most ardent disciple; but he was young, handsome as Helvetius was, and the women of Paris soon taught him to exude exclusively spirit and love. Although he had embraced study with ardor, although Lavoisier had given him some praise, he abandoned his master to listen to the mistresses of taste from whom the young people took their last lessons in good manners and molded themselves to the customs of high society. society which, in Europe, forms the same family. The intoxicating dream of success lasted a short time. After breathing the air of Paris, Balthazar left, tired of a hollow life that suited neither his ardent soul nor his loving heart. Domestic life, so sweet, so calm, and which he remembered in the name of Flanders alone, seemed to him to better suit his character and the ambitions of his heart.

The gilding of no Parisian salon had erased the melodies of the brown parlor and the little garden where his childhood had passed so happily. You must have neither home nor country to stay in Paris. Paris is the city of the cosmopolitan or of men who have embraced the world and who incessantly embrace it with the arm of Science, Art or Power. The child of Flanders returned to Douai like the carrier pigeon, he cried with joy when he returned there the day Gayant was walking. Gayant, this superstitious happiness of the whole city, this triumph of Flemish memories, had been introduced during the emigration of his family to Douai. The death of his father and that of his mother left the Claës house deserted, and occupied it there for some time. His first pain passed,he felt the need to marry to complete the happy existence with which all religions had provided him; he wanted to follow the wanderings of the domestic home by going, like his ancestors, to look for a wife either in Ghent, in Bruges, or in Antwerp; but none of the people he met there suited him. He undoubtedly had some particular ideas about marriage, because from his youth he was accused of not following the common path.

One day, he heard, at the home of one of his relatives in Ghent, about a young lady from Brussels who became the subject of quite lively discussions. Some found that Mademoiselle de Temninck's beauty was erased by her imperfections; others saw her as perfect despite her flaws. Balthazar's old cousin Claës told his guests that, beautiful or not, she had a soul that would make him marry her, if he were to marry; and he related how she had just renounced the inheritance of her father and mother in order to provide her young brother with a marriage worthy of his name, thus preferring the happiness of this brother to her own and sacrificing his whole life to him. It was unbelievable that Mademoiselle de Temninck would marry old and without fortune, when, as a young heiress, no party was presented for her.

A few days later, Balthazar Claës was looking for Mademoiselle de Temninck, then aged twenty-five, and with whom he had fallen deeply in love. Joséphine de Temninck believed herself to be the object of a whim, and refused to listen to Monsieur Claës; but passion is so communicative, and for a poor counterfeit and lame girl, a love inspired by a young and well-made man, involves such great seductions, that she consented to allow herself to be courted. A few days later, Balthazar Claës was looking for Mademoiselle de Temninck, then aged twenty-five, and with whom he had fallen deeply in love. Joséphine de Temninck believed herself to be the object of a whim, and refused to listen to Monsieur Claës; but passion is so communicative, and for a poor counterfeit and lame girl, a love inspired by a young and well-made man, involves such great seductions, that she consented to allow herself to be courted. A few days later, Balthazar Claës was looking for Mademoiselle de Temninck, then aged twenty-five, and with whom he had fallen deeply in love. Joséphine de Temninck believed herself to be the object of a whim, and refused to listen to Monsieur Claës; but passion is so communicative, and for a poor counterfeit and lame girl, a love inspired by a young and well-made man, involves such great seductions, that she consented to allow herself to be courted.

Wouldn't it take an entire book to properly portray the love of a young girl humbly submitted to the opinion that proclaims her ugly, while she feels within herself the irresistible charm that true feelings produce? It's fierce jealousies at the sight of happiness, cruel desires for revenge against the rival who steals a look, finally emotions, terrors unknown to most women, and which would then be lost if they were only indicated.

Doubt, so dramatic in love, would be the secret of this analysis, essentially minute, where certain souls would rediscover the lost but not forgotten poetry of their first troubles: these sublime exaltations deep in the heart and which the face never betrays; this fear of not being understood, and these unlimited joys of having been so; these hesitations of the soul which withdraws into itself and these magnetic projections which give the eyes infinite nuances; these suicide plans caused by a word and dissipated by an intonation of voice as extensive as the feeling whose unknown persistence it reveals; these trembling looks which veil terrible boldness; these sudden urges to speak and act, repressed by their very violence; this intimate eloquence which is produced by sentences without wit, but pronounced in an agitated voice; the mysterious effects of this primitive modesty of the soul and this divine discretion which makes one generous in the shadows, and makes one find an exquisite taste in ignored devotions; finally, all the beauties of young love and the weaknesses of its power.

Mademoiselle Joséphine de Temninck was flirtatious through greatness of soul. The feeling of her apparent imperfections made her as difficult as the most beautiful person would have been. The fear of displeasing one day aroused her pride, destroyed her confidence and gave her the courage to keep in the depths of her heart those first felicities which other women like to publish through their manners, and of which they make a proud adornment. The more strongly love pushed her towards Balthazar, the less she dared to express her feelings to him. Did not the gesture, the look, the response or the request which, in a pretty woman, are flattery for a man, become humiliating speculations in her? A beautiful woman can be herself at ease, the world always gives her credit for stupidity or clumsiness, while a single look stops the most magnificent expression on the lips of an ugly woman, intimidates her eyes, increases the bad grace of her gestures, embarrasses his posture.

Does she not know that she alone is forbidden to make mistakes, everyone refuses her the gift of repairing them, and moreover no one provides her with the opportunity to do so. Shouldn't the need to be perfect at every moment extinguish the faculties, freeze their exercise? This woman can only live in an atmosphere of angelic indulgence. Where are the hearts from which indulgence flows without being tinged with bitter and hurtful pity? These thoughts to which the horrible politeness of the world had accustomed her, and these considerations which, more cruel than insults, aggravate misfortunes by noticing them, oppressed Mademoiselle de Temninck, caused her a constant embarrassment which repressed to the depths of her soul the most delicious impressions, and struck with coldness his attitude, his words, his look. She was in love by stealth, only daring to have eloquence or beauty in solitude. Unhappy in broad daylight, she would have been delightful if she had been allowed to live only at night. Often, to experience this love and at the risk of losing it, she disdained the adornment which could partly save her faults. Her Spanish eyes fascinated when she noticed that Balthazar found her beautiful in a negligee. Nevertheless, distrust spoiled the rare moments during which she ventured to indulge in happiness.

She soon wondered if Claës was not trying to marry her in order to have a slave to live with, if he did not have some secret imperfections which forced him to settle for a poor, disgraced girl. These perpetual anxieties sometimes gave an incredible price to the hours when she believed in the duration, in the sincerity of a love which was to avenge her from the world.She provoked delicate discussions by exaggerating her ugliness, in order to penetrate to the depths of her lover's conscience, she then extracted unflattering truths from Balthazar; but she loved the embarrassment he found himself in, when she had led him to say that what one loved in a woman was above all a beautiful soul, and that devotion which makes the days of life so constantly happy; that after a few years of marriage, the most delicious woman on earth is for a husband the equivalent of the ugliest. After having piled up what was true in the paradoxes which tend to reduce the price of beauty, suddenly Balthazar realized the disobliging nature of these propositions, and discovered all the goodness of his heart in the delicacy of the transitions through which he knew how to prove to Mademoiselle de Temninck that she was perfect for him.

Devotion, which is perhaps the height of love in women, was not lacking in this girl, for she despaired of ever being loved; but the prospect of a struggle in which feeling had to prevail over beauty tempted her; then she found greatness in giving herself without believing in love; finally happiness, however short-lived it might be, must have cost her too dear for her to refuse to enjoy it. These uncertainties, these struggles, by communicating the charm and unexpectedness of passion to this superior creature, inspired in Balthazar an almost chivalrous love.

The marriage took place at the beginning of 1795. The two spouses returned to Douai to spend the first days of their union in the patriarchal house of Claës, whose treasures were increased by Mademoiselle de Temninck who brought some beautiful paintings by Murillo and Velasquez, his mother's diamonds and the magnificent gifts sent to him by his brother, who became Duke of Casa-Réal. Few women were happier than Madame Claës. Her happiness lasted fifteen years, without the slightest cloud; and like a bright light, it infused itself into the small details of existence.

Most men have inequalities of character which produce continual dissonance; they thus deprive their interior of this harmony, the beautiful ideal of the household; because most men are tainted by pettiness, and pettiness breeds harassment. One will be honest and active, but hard and rough; the other will be good, but stubborn; he will love his wife, but will have uncertainty in his wishes; he, preoccupied by ambition, will pay off his feelings like a debt; if he gives away the vanities of fortune, he takes away the joy of every day; finally, the men of the social environment are essentially incomplete, without being notably reproachable.

People of intellect are as variable as barometers; genius alone is essentially good. So pure happiness is found at both ends of the moral scale. Only the good beast or the man of genius are capable, one through weakness, the other through strength, of this equality of mood, of this constant gentleness in which the asperities of life melt away. In one, it is indifference and passivity; in the other, it is indulgence and continuity of the sublime thought of which he is the interpreter and which must be similar in principle and in application.

Both are equally simple and naive; only, with this one it is emptiness; with this one it's depth. So clever women are quite ready to take a beast as the best stopgap for a great man. Balthazar therefore first showed his superiority in the smallest things of life. He liked to see in conjugal love a magnificent work, and like men of great stature who tolerate nothing imperfect, he wanted to display all its beauties. His mind constantly modified the calm of happiness, his noble character marked his attentions in the corner of grace.

Thus, although he shared the philosophical principles of the eighteenth century, he installed in his home until 1801, despite the dangers that the revolutionary laws posed to him, a Catholic priest, in order not to upset the Spanish fanaticism that his wife had sucked in breast milk for Roman Catholicism; then, when the cult was reestablished in France,he accompanied his wife to mass every Sunday. His attachment never left the forms of passion. He never made one feel in his interior this protective force that women love so much, because for his it would have seemed like pity. Finally, through the most ingenious adulation, he treated her as his equal and let slip those amicable sulks that a man allows himself towards a beautiful woman as if to defy her superiority. Her lips were always embellished by the smile of happiness, and her words were always full of sweetness.

He loved his Josephine for her and for himself, with that ardor which involves continual praise of the qualities and beauties of a woman. Fidelity, often the effect of a social principle, of a religion or of a calculation in husbands, seemed involuntary in him, and did not come without the sweet flatteries of the spring of love. Duty was the only obligation of marriage that was unknown to these two equally loving beings, because Balthazar Claës found in Mademoiselle de Temninck a constant and complete realization of his hopes. In him, the heart was always satisfied without fatigue, and the man always happy. Not only did the Spanish blood not lie in the granddaughter of the Casa-Réals, and gave her an instinct for that science which knows how to vary pleasure to infinity; but she also had this boundless devotion which is the genius of her sex, as grace is all of her beauty.

His love was a blind fanaticism which with a single nod of the head would have made him go joyfully to death. Balthazar's delicacy had exalted in her the most generous feelings of woman, and inspired in her an imperative need to give more than she received. This mutual exchange of happiness alternately washed visibly placed the principle of her life outside of herself, and spread an increasing love in her words, in her looks, in her actions.

On both sides, recognition fertilized and varied the life of the heart; just as the certainty of being everything to each other excluded pettiness by magnifying the smallest accessories of existence. But also, the counterfeit woman that her husband finds right, the lame woman that a man does not want otherwise, or the old woman who seems young, are they not the happiest creatures of the feminine world?... Passion human beings cannot go beyond this. Isn't the glory of a woman to make people adore what seems to be a defect in her?

Forgetting that a lame woman does not walk straight is the fascination of a moment; but loving her because she limps is the deification of her vice. Perhaps this sentence should be engraved in the Gospel of women:He never made one feel in his interior this protective force that women love so much, because for his it would have seemed like pity. Finally, through the most ingenious adulation, he treated her as his equal and let slip those amicable sulks that a man allows himself towards a beautiful woman as if to defy her superiority. Her lips were always embellished by the smile of happiness, and her words were always full of sweetness. He loved his Josephine for her and for himself, with that ardor which involves continual praise of the qualities and beauties of a woman. Fidelity, often the effect of a social principle, of a religion or of a calculation in husbands, seemed involuntary in him, and did not come without the sweet flatteries of the spring of love.

Duty was the only obligation of marriage that was unknown to these two equally loving beings, because Balthazar Claës found in Mademoiselle de Temninck a constant and complete realization of his hopes. In him, the heart was always satisfied without fatigue, and the man always happy. Not only did the Spanish blood not lie in the granddaughter of the Casa-Réals, and gave her an instinct for that science which knows how to vary pleasure to infinity; but she also had this boundless devotion which is the genius of her sex, as grace is all of her beauty.

His love was a blind fanaticism which with a single nod of the head would have made him go joyfully to death. Balthazar's delicacy had exalted in her the most generous feelings of woman, and inspired in her an imperative need to give more than she received. This mutual exchange of happiness alternately washed visibly placed the principle of her life outside of herself, and spread an increasing love in her words, in her looks, in her actions. On both sides, recognition fertilized and varied the life of the heart; just as the certainty of being everything to each other excluded pettiness by magnifying the smallest accessories of existence. But also, the counterfeit woman that her husband finds right, the lame woman that a man does not want otherwise, or the old woman who seems young, are they not the happiest creatures of the feminine world?... Passion human beings cannot go beyond this. Isn't the glory of a woman to make people adore what seems to be a defect in her?

Forgetting that a lame woman does not walk straight is the fascination of a moment; but loving her because she limps is the deification of her vice. Perhaps this sentence should be engraved in the Gospel of women: He never made one feel in his interior this protective force that women love so much, because for his it would have seemed like pity.Finally, through the most ingenious adulation, he treated her as his equal and let slip those amicable sulks that a man allows himself towards a beautiful woman as if to defy her superiority. Her lips were always embellished by the smile of happiness, and her words were always full of sweetness.

He loved his Josephine for her and for himself, with that ardor which involves continual praise of the qualities and beauties of a woman. Fidelity, often the effect of a social principle, of a religion or of a calculation in husbands, seemed involuntary in him, and did not come without the sweet flatteries of the spring of love. Duty was the only obligation of marriage that was unknown to these two equally loving beings, because Balthazar Claës found in Mademoiselle de Temninck a constant and complete realization of his hopes. In him, the heart was always satisfied without fatigue, and the man always happy. Not only did the Spanish blood not lie in the granddaughter of the Casa-Réals, and gave her an instinct for that science which knows how to vary pleasure to infinity; but she also had this boundless devotion which is the genius of her sex, as grace is all of her beauty.

His love was a blind fanaticism which with a single nod of the head would have made him go joyfully to death. Balthazar's delicacy had exalted in her the most generous feelings of woman, and inspired in her an imperative need to give more than she received. This mutual exchange of happiness alternately washed visibly placed the principle of her life outside of herself, and spread an increasing love in her words, in her looks, in her actions. On both sides, recognition fertilized and varied the life of the heart; just as the certainty of being everything to each other excluded pettiness by magnifying the smallest accessories of existence. But also, the counterfeit woman that her husband finds right, the lame woman that a man does not want otherwise, or the old woman who seems young, are they not the happiest creatures of the feminine world?... Passion human beings cannot go beyond this. Isn't the glory of a woman to make people adore what seems to be a defect in her?

Forgetting that a lame woman does not walk straight is the fascination of a moment; but loving her because she limps is the deification of her vice. Perhaps this sentence should be engraved in the Gospel of women: he treated her as his equal and indulged in those amiable souls that a man indulges in towards a beautiful woman as if to defy her superiority. Her lips were always embellished by the smile of happiness, and her words were always full of sweetness.He loved his Josephine for her and for himself, with that ardor which involves continual praise of the qualities and beauties of a woman. Fidelity, often the effect of a social principle, of a religion or of a calculation in husbands, seemed involuntary in him, and did not come without the sweet flatteries of the spring of love. Duty was the only obligation of marriage that was unknown to these two equally loving beings, because Balthazar Claës found in Mademoiselle de Temninck a constant and complete realization of his hopes. In him, the heart was always satisfied without fatigue, and the man always happy. Not only did the Spanish blood not lie in the granddaughter of the Casa-Réals, and gave her an instinct for that science which knows how to vary pleasure to infinity; but she also had this boundless devotion which is the genius of her sex, as grace is all of her beauty. His love was a blind fanaticism which with a single nod of the head would have made him go joyfully to death. Balthazar's delicacy had exalted in her the most generous feelings of woman, and inspired in her an imperative need to give more than she received. This mutual exchange of happiness alternately washed visibly placed the principle of her life outside of herself, and spread an increasing love in her words, in her looks, in her actions. On both sides, recognition fertilized and varied the life of the heart; just as the certainty of being everything to each other excluded pettiness by magnifying the smallest accessories of existence. But also, the counterfeit woman that her husband finds right, the lame woman that a man does not want otherwise, or the old woman who seems young, are they not the happiest creatures of the feminine world?... Passion human beings cannot go beyond this. Isn't the glory of a woman to make people adore what seems to be a defect in her?

Forgetting that a lame woman does not walk straight is the fascination of a moment; but loving her because she limps is the deification of her vice. Perhaps this sentence should be engraved in the Gospel of women: he treated her as his equal and indulged in those amiable souls that a man indulges in towards a beautiful woman as if to defy her superiority. Her lips were always embellished by the smile of happiness, and her words were always full of sweetness. He loved his Josephine for her and for himself, with that ardor which involves continual praise of the qualities and beauties of a woman. Fidelity, often the effect of a social principle, of a religion or of a calculation in husbands, seemed involuntary in him, and did not come without the sweet flatteries of the spring of love.Duty was the only obligation of marriage that was unknown to these two equally loving beings, because Balthazar Claës found in Mademoiselle de Temninck a constant and complete realization of his hopes. In him, the heart was always satisfied without fatigue, and the man always happy. Not only did the Spanish blood not lie in the granddaughter of the Casa-Réals, and gave her an instinct for that science which knows how to vary pleasure to infinity; but she also had this boundless devotion which is the genius of her sex, as grace is all of her beauty. His love was a blind fanaticism which with a single nod of the head would have made him go joyfully to death. Balthazar's delicacy had exalted in her the most generous feelings of woman, and inspired in her an imperative need to give more than she received. This mutual exchange of happiness alternately washed visibly placed the principle of her life outside of herself, and spread an increasing love in her words, in her looks, in her actions. On both sides, recognition fertilized and varied the life of the heart; just as the certainty of being everything to each other excluded pettiness by magnifying the smallest accessories of existence. But also, the counterfeit woman that her husband finds right, the lame woman that a man does not want otherwise, or the old woman who seems young, are they not the happiest creatures of the feminine world?... Passion human beings cannot go beyond this. Isn't the glory of a woman to make people adore what seems to be a defect in her?

Forgetting that a lame woman does not walk straight is the fascination of a moment; but loving her because she limps is the deification of her vice. Perhaps this sentence should be engraved in the Gospel of women: and did not go without the sweet flatteries of the spring of love. Duty was the only obligation of marriage that was unknown to these two equally loving beings, because Balthazar Claës found in Mademoiselle de Temninck a constant and complete realization of his hopes. In him, the heart was always satisfied without fatigue, and the man always happy. Not only did the Spanish blood not lie in the granddaughter of the Casa-Réals, and gave her an instinct for that science which knows how to vary pleasure to infinity; but she also had this boundless devotion which is the genius of her sex, as grace is all of her beauty. His love was a blind fanaticism which with a single nod of the head would have made him go joyfully to death. Balthazar's delicacy had exalted in her the most generous feelings of woman, and inspired in her an imperative need to give more than she received.This mutual exchange of happiness alternately washed visibly placed the principle of her life outside of herself, and spread an increasing love in her words, in her looks, in her actions. On both sides, recognition fertilized and varied the life of the heart; just as the certainty of being everything to each other excluded pettiness by magnifying the smallest accessories of existence. But also, the counterfeit woman that her husband finds right, the lame woman that a man does not want otherwise, or the old woman who seems young, are they not the happiest creatures of the feminine world?... Passion human beings cannot go beyond this. Isn't the glory of a woman to make people adore what seems to be a defect in her?

Forgetting that a lame woman does not walk straight is the fascination of a moment; but loving her because she limps is the deification of her vice. Perhaps this sentence should be engraved in the Gospel of women: and did not go without the sweet flatteries of the spring of love. Duty was the only obligation of marriage that was unknown to these two equally loving beings, because Balthazar Claës found in Mademoiselle de Temninck a constant and complete realization of his hopes. In him, the heart was always satisfied without fatigue, and the man always happy. Not only did the Spanish blood not lie in the granddaughter of the Casa-Réals, and gave her an instinct for that science which knows how to vary pleasure to infinity; but she also had this boundless devotion which is the genius of her sex, as grace is all of her beauty. His love was a blind fanaticism which with a single nod of the head would have made him go joyfully to death. Balthazar's delicacy had exalted in her the most generous feelings of woman, and inspired in her an imperative need to give more than she received. This mutual exchange of happiness alternately washed visibly placed the principle of her life outside of herself, and spread an increasing love in her words, in her looks, in her actions. On both sides, recognition fertilized and varied the life of the heart; just as the certainty of being everything to each other excluded pettiness by magnifying the smallest accessories of existence. But also, the counterfeit woman that her husband finds right, the lame woman that a man does not want otherwise, or the old woman who seems young, are they not the happiest creatures of the feminine world?... Passion human beings cannot go beyond this. Isn't the glory of a woman to make people adore what seems to be a defect in her?

Forgetting that a lame woman does not walk straight is the fascination of a moment; but loving her because she limps is the deification of her vice.Perhaps this sentence should be engraved in the Gospel of women: This mutual exchange of happiness alternately washed visibly placed the principle of her life outside of herself, and spread an increasing love in her words, in her looks, in her actions. On both sides, recognition fertilized and varied the life of the heart; just as the certainty of being everything to each other excluded pettiness by magnifying the smallest accessories of existence. But also, the counterfeit woman that her husband finds right, the lame woman that a man does not want otherwise, or the old woman who seems young, are they not the happiest creatures of the feminine world?... Passion human beings cannot go beyond this. Isn't the glory of a woman to make people adore what seems to be a defect in her?

Forgetting that a lame woman does not walk straight is the fascination of a moment; but loving her because she limps is the deification of her vice. Perhaps this sentence should be engraved in the Gospel of women: This mutual exchange of happiness alternately washed visibly placed the principle of her life outside of herself, and spread an increasing love in her words, in her looks, in her actions. On both sides, recognition fertilized and varied the life of the heart; just as the certainty of being everything to each other excluded pettiness by magnifying the smallest accessories of existence. But also, the counterfeit woman that her husband finds right, the lame woman that a man does not want otherwise, or the old woman who seems young, are they not the happiest creatures of the feminine world?... Passion human beings cannot go beyond this. Isn't the glory of a woman to make people adore what seems to be a defect in her?

Forgetting that a lame woman does not walk straight is the fascination of a moment; but loving her because she limps is the deification of her vice. Perhaps this sentence should be engraved in the Gospel of women:Blessed are the imperfect, to them belongs the kingdom of love. Certainly, beauty must be a misfortune for a woman, because this fleeting flower plays too much a role in the feeling it inspires; Don't we love her like we marry a rich heiress? But the love felt or demonstrated by a woman disinherited from the fragile advantages after which the children of Adam run, is true love, a truly mysterious passion, an ardent embrace of souls, a feeling for which the day of disenchantment never happens. This woman has graces unknown to the world from whose control she escapes, she is appropriately beautiful, and garners too much glory in making her imperfections forgotten not to constantly succeed. Also, the most famous attachments in history were almost all inspired by women in whom the vulgar would have found faults. Cleopatra, Joan of Naples, Diane de Poitiers, Mademoiselle de La Vallière, Madame de Pompadour, in short, most of the women whom love has made famous lack neither imperfections nor infirmities, while most of the women whose beauty is cited to us as perfect , have seen their loves end unfortunately. This apparent oddity must have its cause.

Perhaps man lives more by feeling than by pleasure? perhaps the entirely physical charm of a beautiful woman has limits, while the essentially moral charm of a woman of mediocre beauty is infinite? Isn't this the morality of the fabulation on which the Arabian Nights are based? Wife of Henry VIII, an ugly woman would have defied the ax and subdued the inconstancy of the master. By a rather explainable oddity in a girl of Spanish origin, Madame Claës was ignorant. She knew how to read and write; but until the age of twenty, when her parents took her out of the convent, she had read only ascetic works. Upon entering the world, she first thirsted for the pleasures of the world and learned only the futile sciences of toilet; but she was so deeply humiliated by her ignorance that she dared not take part in any conversation; so she was thought to have little intelligence.

However, this mystical education had the result of leaving her feelings in all their force, and not spoiling her natural spirit. Stupid and ugly like an heiress in the eyes of the world, she became witty and beautiful for her husband. Balthazar tried hard during the first years of his marriage to give his wife the knowledge she needed to be well in the world; but it was undoubtedly too late, she only had the memory of her heart. Joséphine forgot nothing of what Claës said to her, regarding themselves; she remembered the smallest circumstances of her happy life, and did not remember the next day her lesson from the day before.This ignorance would have caused great discord between other spouses; but Madame Claës had such a naive understanding of passion, she loved her husband so piously, so saintly, and the desire to preserve his happiness made her so adroit that she always managed to appear to understand him, and rarely let the moments when his ignorance would have been all too obvious.

Moreover, when two people love each other enough for each day to be the first of their passion, there exist in this fertile happiness phenomena which change all the conditions of life. Is it not then like a childhood carefree from everything that is not laughter, joy, pleasure? Then, when life is very active, when the hearts are very burning, man lets the combustion go on without thinking about it or discussing it, without measuring the means or the end. Moreover, no daughter of Eve never understood her profession as a woman better than Madame Claës. She had that submission of the Flemish woman, which makes the domestic hearth so attractive, and to which her pride as a Spaniard gave a higher flavor. She was imposing, knew how to command respect with a look in which the feeling of her value and nobility shone through; but before Claës she trembled; and, in the long run, she ended up placing him so high and so close to God, by reporting to him all the actions of his life and his slightest thoughts, that her love no longer went without a tinge of respectful fear which was still sharpening.

She took with pride all the habits of the Flemish bourgeoisie and placed her self-esteem in making domestic life richly happy, in maintaining the smallest details of the house in their classic cleanliness, in possessing only things of absolute goodness. , to keep the most delicate dishes on her table and to put everything in her home in harmony with the life of the heart. They had two boys and two girls. The eldest, named Marguerite, was born in 1796. The last child was a boy, aged three and named Jean Balthazar. Madame Claës' maternal feeling was almost equal to her love for her husband. Also there took place in his soul, and especially during the last days of his life, a horrible battle between these two equally powerful feelings, one of which had in some way become the enemy of the other. The tears and terror on her face as the story of the domestic drama brewing in this peaceful house began were caused by the fear of having sacrificed her children to her husband. Moreover, when two people love each other enough for each day to be the first of their passion, there exist in this fertile happiness phenomena which change all the conditions of life.

Is it not then like a childhood carefree from everything that is not laughter, joy, pleasure?Then, when life is very active, when the hearts are very burning, man lets the combustion go on without thinking about it or discussing it, without measuring the means or the end. Moreover, no daughter of Eve never understood her profession as a woman better than Madame Claës. She had that submission of the Flemish woman, which makes the domestic hearth so attractive, and to which her pride as a Spaniard gave a higher flavor. She was imposing, knew how to command respect with a look in which the feeling of her value and nobility shone through; but before Claës she trembled; and, in the long run, she had ended up placing him so high and so close to God, by reporting to him all the acts of his life and his slightest thoughts, that her love no longer went without a tinge of respectful fear which was still sharpening. She took with pride all the habits of the Flemish bourgeoisie and placed her self-esteem in making domestic life abundantly happy, in maintaining the smallest details of the house in their classic cleanliness, in possessing only things of absolute goodness. , to keep the most delicate dishes on her table and to put everything in her home in harmony with the life of the heart.

They had two boys and two girls. The eldest, named Marguerite, was born in 1796. The last child was a boy, aged three and named Jean Balthazar. Madame Claës' maternal feeling was almost equal to her love for her husband. Also there took place in his soul, and especially during the last days of his life, a horrible battle between these two equally powerful feelings, one of which had in some way become the enemy of the other. The tears and terror on her face as the story of the domestic drama brewing in this peaceful house began were caused by the fear of having sacrificed her children to her husband. Moreover, when two people love each other enough for each day to be the first of their passion, there exist in this fertile happiness phenomena which change all the conditions of life. Is it not then like a childhood carefree from everything that is not laughter, joy, pleasure?

Then, when life is very active, when the hearts are very burning, man lets the combustion go on without thinking about it or discussing it, without measuring the means or the end. Moreover, no daughter of Eve never understood her profession as a woman better than Madame Claës. She had that submission of the Flemish woman, which makes the domestic hearth so attractive, and to which her pride as a Spaniard gave a higher flavor. She was imposing, knew how to command respect with a look in which the feeling of her value and nobility shone through; but before Claës she trembled;and, in the long run, she ended up placing him so high and so close to God, by reporting to him all the actions of his life and his slightest thoughts, that her love no longer went without a tinge of respectful fear which was still sharpening. She took with pride all the habits of the Flemish bourgeoisie and placed her self-esteem in making domestic life richly happy, in maintaining the smallest details of the house in their classic cleanliness, in possessing only things of absolute goodness. , to keep the most delicate dishes on her table and to put everything in her home in harmony with the life of the heart.

They had two boys and two girls. The eldest, named Marguerite, was born in 1796. The last child was a boy, aged three and named Jean Balthazar. Madame Claës' maternal feeling was almost equal to her love for her husband. Also there took place in his soul, and especially during the last days of his life, a horrible battle between these two equally powerful feelings, one of which had in some way become the enemy of the other. The tears and terror on her face as the story of the domestic drama brewing in this peaceful house began were caused by the fear of having sacrificed her children to her husband. She was imposing, knew how to command respect with a look in which the feeling of her value and nobility shone through; but before Claës she trembled; and, in the long run, she ended up placing him so high and so close to God, by reporting to him all the actions of his life and his slightest thoughts, that her love no longer went without a tinge of respectful fear which was still sharpening.

She took with pride all the habits of the Flemish bourgeoisie and placed her self-esteem in making domestic life richly happy, in maintaining the smallest details of the house in their classic cleanliness, in possessing only things of absolute goodness. , to keep the most delicate dishes on her table and to put everything in her home in harmony with the life of the heart. They had two boys and two girls. The eldest, named Marguerite, was born in 1796. The last child was a boy, aged three and named Jean Balthazar. Madame Claës' maternal feeling was almost equal to her love for her husband. Also there took place in his soul, and especially during the last days of his life, a horrible battle between these two equally powerful feelings, one of which had in some way become the enemy of the other. The tears and terror on her face as the story of the domestic drama brewing in this peaceful house began were caused by the fear of having sacrificed her children to her husband.

She was imposing, knew how to command respect with a look in which the feeling of her value and nobility shone through; but before Claës she trembled;and, in the long run, she ended up placing him so high and so close to God, by reporting to him all the actions of his life and his slightest thoughts, that her love no longer went without a tinge of respectful fear which was still sharpening. She took with pride all the habits of the Flemish bourgeoisie and placed her self-esteem in making domestic life richly happy, in maintaining the smallest details of the house in their classic cleanliness, in possessing only things of absolute goodness. , to keep the most delicate dishes on her table and to put everything in her home in harmony with the life of the heart. They had two boys and two girls. The eldest, named Marguerite, was born in 1796. The last child was a boy, aged three and named Jean Balthazar. Madame Claës' maternal feeling was almost equal to her love for her husband. Also there took place in his soul, and especially during the last days of his life, a horrible battle between these two equally powerful feelings, one of which had in some way become the enemy of the other. The tears and terror on her face as the story of the domestic drama brewing in this peaceful house began were caused by the fear of having sacrificed her children to her husband.

In 1805, Madame Claës' brother died without leaving any children. Spanish law prevented the sister from succeeding to the territorial possessions which were the title of the house; but by his testamentary provisions, the duke bequeathed him approximately sixty thousand ducats, which the heirs of the collateral branch did not dispute with him. Although the feeling which united her to Balthazar Claës was such that no idea of ​​interest would ever have tainted it, Joséphine felt a sort of contentment in possessing a fortune equal to that of her husband, and was happy to be able in her turn to offer something after having so nobly received everything from him. Chance therefore meant that this marriage, in which the calculators saw folly, was, from the point of view of interest, an excellent marriage. The use of this sum was quite difficult to determine. The Claës house was so richly furnished with furniture, paintings, works of art and valuable objects, that it seemed difficult to add things worthy of those already there.

The taste of this family had accumulated treasures there. A generation had set out on the trail of beautiful paintings, then the need to complete the collection started had made the taste for painting hereditary. The hundred paintings which decorated the gallery through which one communicated from the back quarter to the reception apartments located on the first floor of the front house, as well as around fifty others placed in the state rooms, had required three centuries of work. patient research. They were famous pieces by Rubens, Ruysdaël, Van-Dyck, Terburg, Gérard Dow, Teniers, Miéris, Paul-Potter, Wouwermans, Rembrandt, Hobbéma, Cranach and Holbein. Italian and French paintings were in the minority, but all authentic and capital. Another generation had a fantasy of Japanese or Chinese porcelain services. One Claës had a passion for furniture, another for silverware, in short each of them had his mania, his passion, one of the most salient traits of the Flemish character.

Balthazar's father, the last remnant of the famous Dutch society, had left one of the richest collections of tulips known. these hereditary riches Besides which represented an enormous capital, and magnificently furnished this old house, as simple on the outside as a shell, but like a pearly shell on the inside and adorned with the rich colors, Balthazar Claës still owned a country house in the plain of Orchies. Far from basing his expenditure, like the French, on his income, he had followed the old Dutch custom of consuming only a quarter of it; and twelve hundred ducats per year put his expenditure on par with that of the richest people in the city.

The publication of the Civil Code vindicated this wisdom.By ordering the equal sharing of property, the Title of Successions was to leave each child almost poor and one day disperse the riches of the old Claës museum. Balthazar, in agreement with Madame Claës, placed his wife's fortune in such a way as to give each of their children a position similar to that of the father. The Claës house therefore persisted in the modesty of its style and purchased wood, a little mistreated by the wars which had taken place; but which, if well preserved, would take on an enormous value ten years later. The high society of Douai, which Monsieur Claës frequented, had appreciated the beautiful character and qualities of his wife so well that, by a sort of tacit agreement, she was exempt from the duties to which people from the provinces are so attached.

During the winter season which she spent in the city, she rarely went out into society, and people came to her house. She entertained every Wednesday, and gave three large dinners a month. Everyone had felt that she was more at ease in her home, where her passion for her husband and the care required by the education of her children held her back. Such was, until 1809, the conduct of this household which did not conform to received ideas. The life of these two beings, secretly full of love and joy, was outwardly similar to any other. Balthazar Claës' passion for his wife, and which his wife knew how to perpetuate, seemed, as he himself observed, to use his innate constancy in the cultivation of happiness which was well worth that of tulips towards which he was inclined since his childhood, and exempted him from having his mania as each of his ancestors had had theirs. until 1809, the conduct of this household did not conform to received ideas. The life of these two beings, secretly full of love and joy, was outwardly similar to any other.

Balthazar Claës' passion for his wife, and which his wife knew how to perpetuate, seemed, as he himself observed, to use his innate constancy in the cultivation of happiness which was well worth that of tulips towards which he was inclined since his childhood, and exempted him from having his mania as each of his ancestors had had theirs. until 1809, the conduct of this household did not conform to received ideas. The life of these two beings, secretly full of love and joy, was outwardly similar to any other. Balthazar Claës' passion for his wife, and which his wife knew how to perpetuate, seemed, as he himself observed, to use his innate constancy in the cultivation of happiness which was well worth that of tulips towards which he was inclined since his childhood, and exempted him from having his mania as each of his ancestors had had theirs.

At the end of that year, Balthazar's mind and manners underwent fatal alterations, which began so naturally that at first Madame Claës did not find it necessary to ask him the cause. One evening, her husband went to bed in a state of worry that she made it her duty to respect. Her feminine delicacy and her submissive habits had always left her waiting for the confidences of Balthazar, whose confidence was guaranteed by an affection so true that it gave no cause for jealousy. Although certain of obtaining an answer when she made a curious request, she had always retained from her first impressions in life the fear of a refusal.

Moreover, her husband's moral illness had phases, and only came in progressively stronger tones to this intolerable violence which destroyed the happiness of her household. However busy Balthazar was, he nevertheless remained, for several months, talkative and affectionate, and the change in his character was then only manifested by frequent distractions. Madame Claës hoped for a long time to know from her husband the secret of her work, perhaps he only wanted to admit it when they led to useful results, because many men have a pride which pushes them to hide their fights and only appears victorious. On the day of triumph, domestic happiness would therefore reappear all the more brilliant as Balthazar would realize this gap in his love life that his heart would undoubtedly disavow. Joséphine knew her husband well enough to know that he would not forgive himself for having made his Pépita less happy for several months. So she kept silent, feeling a kind of joy in suffering through him, for him; for his passion had a tinge of that Spanish piety which never separates faith from love, and does not understand feeling without suffering.

She therefore waited for a return of affection, saying to herself every evening: - It will be tomorrow! and treating his happiness as absent. She conceived her last child in the midst of these secret troubles. Horrible revelation of a future of pain! In this situation, love was, among her husband's distractions, a distraction stronger than the others. Her pride as a woman, wounded for the first time, made her fathom the depth of the unknown abyss which separated her forever from the Claës of the first days. From that moment on, Balthazar's condition worsened. This man, formerly constantly immersed in domestic joys, who played for hours on end with his children, rolled with them on the parlor carpet or in the garden paths, who seemed to be able to live only under the black eyes of his Pépita, did not notice his wife's pregnancy, forgot to live with his family and forgot himself.The longer Madame Claës delayed in asking her the subject of her occupations, the less she dared. At the thought, his blood boiled and his voice failed.

Finally she thought she had stopped pleasing her husband and was then seriously alarmed. This fear occupied her, despaired her, exalted her, became the source of many melancholy hours and sad reveries. She justified Balthazar at her expense by finding herself ugly and old; then she glimpsed a generous thought, but humiliating for her, in the work by which he made a negative loyalty, and wanted to give him back his independence by allowing one of those secret divorces to take place, the word of happiness which several households seem to enjoy. Nevertheless, before saying goodbye to married life, she tried to read the depths of this heart, but she found it closed.

Insensibly, she saw Balthazar become indifferent to everything he had loved, neglect his tulips in bloom, and no longer think about his children. No doubt he indulged in some passion outside of the affections of the heart, but which, according to women, nevertheless dries up the heart. Love was sleeping, not running away. If this was a consolation, the misfortune nevertheless remained the same. The continuity of this crisis can be explained by a single word, hope, the secret of all these marital situations. At the moment when the poor woman reached a degree of despair which lent her the courage to question her husband; precisely, then she found sweet moments, during which Balthazar proved to her that if he belonged to some devilish thoughts, they allowed him to sometimes become himself again. During these moments when her sky was clearing, she was too eager to enjoy her happiness to disturb it with importunities; then, when she had become emboldened to question Balthazar, at the very moment she was about to speak, he immediately escaped from her, he abruptly left her, or fell into the abyss of his meditations from which nothing could pull him. Soon the reaction of the moral on the physical began its ravages, at first imperceptible, but nevertheless perceptible to the eye of a loving woman who followed the secret thoughts of her husband in its slightest manifestations.

Often, she had difficulty holding back her tears when she saw him, after dinner, immersed in a shepherdess by the fire, gloomy and pensive, his eye fixed on a black panel without noticing the silence which reigned around him. She observed with terror the imperceptible changes which degraded this face which love had made sublime for her. Every day, the life of the soul with Drew more and more, the physical frame remained without any expression.Sometimes the eyes took on a glassy color, it seemed as if the sight was turned around and exerted itself within. When the children were in bed, after a few hours of silence and solitude, full of terrible thoughts, if poor Pépita ventured to ask: - My friend, are you suffering? sometimes Balthazar did not answer, or, if he did answer, he came to himself with a start like a man started from his sleep, and said a not dry and cavernous which fell heavily on the heart of his palpitating wife. Although she wanted to hide the strange situation in which she found herself from her friends, she was nevertheless obliged to talk about it. According to the custom of small towns, most of the salons had made Balthazar's disturbance the subject of their conversations, and already in certain societies, several details were known that were unknown to Madame Claës. Also, despite the silence dictated by politeness, some friends expressed such serious concerns that she hastened to justify her husband's singularities.

- Monsieur Balthazar had, she said, undertaken a great job which absorbed him, but the success of which should be a subject of glory for his family and for his homeland.

This mysterious explanation was too fond of the ambition of a city where, more than in any other, the love of the country and the desire for its illustration reigns, for it not to produce in people's minds a favorable reaction to Monsieur Claës. . His wife's assumptions were, to a certain extent, quite correct.

Several workers of various professions had long worked in the attic of the front house, where Balthazar went in the morning. After having made longer and longer retreats there, to which his wife and his people had gradually become accustomed, Balthazar had come to stay there for entire days. But, incredible pain! Madame Claës learned through the humiliating confidences of her good friends, astonished at her ignorance, that her husband never stopped buying physics instruments, precious materials, books, machines in Paris, and was ruining himself, it was said, at search for the philosopher's stone . She had to think of her children, the friends added, of her own future, and would be criminal not to use her influence to entertain her husband from the false path on which he had embarked. If Madame Claës regained her impertinence as a great lady to silence these absurd speeches, she was seized with terror despite her apparent confidence, and resolved to abandon her role of self-sacrifice. It gave rise to one of those situations in which a woman is on an equal footing with her husband; less trembling then, she dared to ask Balthazar the reason for her change, and the reason for her constant retreat. The Fleming frowned and replied: - My dear, you wouldn't understand anything.

One day, Joséphine insisted on knowing this secret, complaining gently about not sharing all the thoughts of the man whose life she shared.

- Since this interests you so much, replied Balthazar, keeping his wife on his knees and stroking her black hair, I will tell you that I have returned to chemistry, and I am the happiest man in the world.

Two years after the winter when Mr. Claës became a chemist, his house had changed in appearance. Either society was shocked by the scientist's perpetual distraction, or thought it was bothering him; either because her secret anxieties had made Madame Claës less pleasant, she only saw her close friends.

Balthazar didn't go anywhere, locking himself in his laboratory all day, sometimes staying there at night, and only appearing with his family at dinner time. From the second year, he stopped spending the summer in his countryside, where his wife no longer wanted to live alone. Sometimes Balthazar would leave his house, take a walk and not return until the next day, leaving Madame Claës for a whole night given over to mortal worries; after having unsuccessfully searched for him in a town whose gates were closed in the evening, following the custom of strongholds, she could not send in pursuit of him into the countryside.

The unfortunate woman no longer even had the hope mixed with anguish that waiting gave, and suffered until the next day. Balthazar, who had forgotten the closing time of the doors, arrived the next day quietly without suspecting the torture that his distraction would impose on his family; and the happiness of seeing him again was for his wife a crisis as dangerous as her apprehensions could be, she kept silent, did not dare to question him; because, to the first request she made, he replied with a surprised air: - "Well, what, we can't take a walk!" Passions don't know how to disappoint. Madame Claës' concerns therefore justified the rumors that she had pleased to deny. Her youth had accustomed her to knowing the polite pity of the world; in order not to suffer it a second time, she shut herself more closely within the confines of her house which everyone deserted, even her last friends. The disorder in clothing, always so degrading for a man of the upper class, became such in Balthazar that among so many causes of sorrow, it was not one of the least sensitive which affected this woman accustomed to the exquisite cleanliness of the Flemish people . In concert with Lemulquinier, her husband's valet, Joséphine remedied for some time the daily devastation of clothes, but it was necessary to give up.

The very day when, without Balthazar's knowledge, new effects had been substituted for those that were stained, torn or with holes, he made them into rags. This woman, happy for fifteen years, and whose jealousy had never aroused, suddenly found herself seemingly no longer anything in the heart where she had previously reigned. Spanish by origin, the feeling of the Spanish woman rumbled in her, when she discovered a rival in Science who took her husband away from her;the torments of jealousy devoured his heart, and renewed his love. But what to do against Science? how can we fight its incessant, tyrannical and growing power?

How to kill an invisible rival? How can a woman, whose power is limited by nature, struggle with an idea whose pleasures are infinite and whose attractions are always new? What can we try against the coquetry of ideas which are refreshed, reborn more beautiful in difficulties, and take a man so far from the world that he forgets even his dearest affections? Finally one day, despite the severe orders that Balthazar had given, his wife wanted at least not to leave him, to lock herself with him in this attic where he was withdrawing, to fight hand to hand with her rival while assisting her husband during the long hours that he washed on this terrible mistress. She wanted to slip secretly into this mysterious workshop of seduction, and acquire the right to stay there forever. She therefore tried to share with Lemulquinier the right to enter the laboratory, but, in order not to make him witness to a quarrel that she feared, she waited for a day when her husband would do without the valet. For some time she had been studying the comings and goings of this servant with hateful impatience; Didn't he know everything she wanted to learn, what her husband hid from her and what she didn't dare ask him? She found Lemulquinier more favored than she, the wife!

So she came trembling and almost happy; but, for the first time in her life, she experienced Balthazar's anger; She had barely opened the door when he pounced on her, took her, and threw her roughly onto the stairs, where she nearly rolled from top to bottom. She therefore tried to share with Lemulquinier the right to enter the laboratory, but, in order not to make him witness to a quarrel that she feared, she waited for a day when her husband would do without the valet. For some time she had been studying the comings and goings of this servant with hateful impatience; Didn't he know everything she wanted to learn, what her husband hid from her and what she didn't dare ask him? She found Lemulquinier more favored than she, the wife! So she came trembling and almost happy; but, for the first time in her life, she experienced Balthazar's anger; She had barely opened the door when he pounced on her, took her, and threw her roughly onto the stairs, where she nearly rolled from top to bottom.

She therefore tried to share with Lemulquinier the right to enter the laboratory, but, in order not to make him witness to a quarrel that she feared, she waited for a day when her husband would do without the valet.For some time she had been studying the comings and goings of this servant with hateful impatience; Didn't he know everything she wanted to learn, what her husband hid from her and what she didn't dare ask him? She found Lemulquinier more favored than she, the wife! So she came trembling and almost happy; but, for the first time in her life, she experienced Balthazar's anger; She had barely opened the door when he pounced on her, took her, and threw her roughly onto the stairs, where she nearly rolled from top to bottom.

- Praise God, you exist! cried Balthazar, picking her up.

A glass mask had shattered into pieces on Madame Claës who saw her husband pale, pale, frightened.

“My dear, I forbade you to come here,” he said, sitting down on a step of the stairs like a defeated man.

The saints have preserved you from death. By what chance were my eyes fixed on the door? We almost died.

- I would have been very happy then, she said.

- My experiment is a failure, continued Balthazar. I can only forgive you for the pain this cruel miscalculation causes me. Maybe I would break down the nitrogen. Go, go back to your business.

Balthazar returned to his laboratory.

- Maybe I was going to decompose the nitrogen! the poor woman said to herself as she returned to her room where she burst into tears.

This sentence was unintelligible to her. Men, accustomed by their education to conceive everything, do not know what is horrible for a woman in not being able to understand the thoughts of the one she loves. More indulgent than we are, these divine creatures do not tell us when the language of their souls remains misunderstood; they fear to make us feel the superiority of their feelings, and then hide their pains with as much joy as they silence their little-known pleasures; but more ambitious in love than we are, they want to marry better than the heart of man, they also want all the thought of him. For Madame Claës, not knowing anything about the Science in which her husband was concerned engendered in her soul a more violent annoyance than that caused by the beauty of a rival.

A struggle between woman and woman leaves to the one who loves the most the advantage of loving better; but this spite showed impotence and humiliated all the feelings that help us to live. Joséphine didn't know! For her, there was a situation where her ignorance separated her from her husband. Finally, the last torture, and the most acute, he was often between life and death, he ran dangers, far from her and close to her, without her sharing them, without her knowing them. It was, like hell, a moral prison with no escape, no hope. Madame Claës wanted to at least know the attractions of this science, and began to secretly study chemistry in books. This family was then cloistered.

Such were the successive transitions through which misfortune took the Claës house, before bringing it to the kind of civil death with which it is struck at the moment when this story begins.

This violent situation became complicated. Like all passionate women, Madame Claës was incredibly selfless. Those who truly love know how little money is compared to feelings, and with what difficulty it combines with them. However, Joséphine did not learn without cruel emotion that her husband owed three hundred thousand francs mortgaged on his properties. The authenticity of the contracts sanctioned the concerns, the noises, the conjectures of the city. Madame Claës, rightly alarmed, was forced, she so proud, to question her husband's notary, to let him in on the secret of his pains or to let him guess about them, and to finally hear this humiliating question - "How did Monsieur Claës hasn't he said anything to you yet? "

Fortunately the notary of Balthazar was almost related to him, and here's how. Mr. Claës' grandfather had married a Pierquin from Antwerp, from the same family as the Pierquins from Douai. Since this marriage, they, although strangers to the Claës, treated them as cousins. Monsieur Pierquin, a young man of twenty-six who had just succeeded his father, was the only person who had access to the Claës house. Madame Balthazar had for several months lived in such complete solitude that the notary was obliged to confirm to her the news of the disasters already known throughout the city. He told her that, presumably, her husband owed considerable sums to the company that supplied him with chemicals. After inquiring about the fortune and the consideration enjoyed by Mr. Claës, this house welcomed all his requests and made the shipments without worry, despite the extent of the credits. Madame Claës instructed Pierquin to request a statement of the supplies made to her husband.

Two months later, Messrs. Protez and Chiffreville, chemical product manufacturers, sent an account statement, which amounted to one hundred thousand francs. Madame Claës and Pierquin studied this invoice with increasing surprise. If many articles, expressed scientifically or commercially, were unintelligible to them, they were frightened to see parts of metals, diamonds of all kinds, taken into account, but in small quantities. The total debt was easily explained by the multiplicity of articles, by the precautions required in the transport of certain substances or the sending of some precious machines, by the exorbitant price of several products which were only difficult to obtain, or that their rarity made them expensive, finally by the value of the physics or chemistry instruments made according to the instructions of Mr. Claës.

The notary, in the interest of his cousin, had obtained information on the Protez and Chiffrevilles, and the probity of these merchants should have reassured the morality of their operations with Mr. Claës to whom, moreover, they often shared the results obtained by the chemists of Paris, in order to save him expenses. Madame Claës asked the notary to hide from the Douai company the nature of these acquisitions which would have been accused of folly; but Pierquin replied that already, in order not to weaken the consideration enjoyed by Claës, he had delayed until the last moment the notarial obligations that the importance of the sums lent in trust by his clients had finally necessitated. He revealed the extent of the wound, telling his cousin that, if she did not find a way to prevent her husband from spending his fortune so madly, in six months the patrimonial assets would be encumbered with mortgages which would exceed the amount. value.

As for himself, he added, the observations he had made to his cousin, with the consideration due to a man so justly regarded, had not had the slightest influence. Once and for all, Balthazar had told him that he was working for the glory and fortune of his family. Thus, to all the tortures of the heart that Madame Claës had endured for two years, each of which added to the other and increased the pain of the moment of all the past pains, was joined by a terrible, incessant fear which made her feel terrible future. Women have premonitions whose accuracy is a miracle. Why do they generally tremble more than they hope when it comes to the interests of life? Why do they only have faith in the great ideas of the religious future? Why do they so skillfully guess the catastrophes of fortune or the crises of our destiny? Perhaps the feeling that unites them to the man they love makes them admirably weigh his strengths, appreciate his faculties, know his tastes, his passions, his vices, his virtues; the perpetual study of these causes in the presence of which they constantly find themselves, undoubtedly gives them the fatal power to foresee their effects in all possible situations. What they see of the present makes them judge the future with a skill naturally explained by the perfection of their nervous system, which allows them to grasp the lightest diagnoses of thought and feeling.

Everything in them vibrates in unison with the great moral commotions. Either they feel, or they see. Now, although separated from her husband for two years, Madame Claës foresaw the loss of her fortune. She had appreciated the thoughtful passion, the unalterable constancy of Balthazar;if it were true that he sought to make gold, he must have thrown with perfect insensibility his last piece of bread into his crucible; but what was he looking for? Until then, maternal feeling and conjugal love had merged so well in this woman's heart that her children never, equally loved by her and her husband, had not come between them.

But suddenly she was sometimes more mother than wife, although she was more often wife than mother. And nevertheless, however willing she might be to sacrifice her fortune and even her children to the happiness of the one who had chosen her, loved her, adored her, and for whom she was still the only woman there was in the world, the The remorse caused by the weakness of her maternal love threw her into horrible alternatives. So, as a woman, she suffered in her heart; as a mother, she suffered in her children; and as a Christian, she suffered for everyone. She was silent and contained these cruel storms in her soul. Her husband, the sole arbiter of the fate of his family, was the master of regulating its destiny as he pleased; he owed account only to God. Besides, could she reproach him for the use of his fortune, after the disinterestedness he had shown during ten years of marriage? Was she the judge of his designs? But his conscience, in agreement with sentiment and the laws, told him that parents were the custodians of fortune, and had no right to alienate the material happiness of their children. To avoid resolving these lofty questions, she preferred to close her eyes, following the habit of people who refuse to see the abyss into which they know they must fall. For six months, her husband had not given her any money for the expenses of her house.

She secretly sold in Paris the rich diamond jewelry that her brother had given her on her wedding day, and introduced the strictest economy into her house. She fired her children's governess, and even Jean's nurse. Formerly the luxury of cars was unknown to the bourgeoisie who were both so humble in their morals and so proud in their feelings; nothing had therefore been planned in the Claës house for this modern invention, Balthazar was obliged to have his stable and his shed in a house opposite his; her occupations no longer allowed her to supervise this part of the household which mainly concerns men; Madame Claës eliminated the onerous expense of crews and people that her isolation made useless, and despite the goodness of these reasons, she did not try to color her reforms with pretexts. Until now the facts had contradicted his words, and silence was now best.

The Claës' change of pace was not justifiable in a country where, like in Holland, anyone who spends all their income is considered crazy. Only, as her eldest daughter, Marguerite, was about to turn sixteen, Joséphine seemed to want to make a beautiful alliance with her, and place her in the world, as befitted a girl allied to the Molinas, the Van-Ostrom-Temnincks, and the Casa-Réal. A few days before the one in which this story begins, the diamond money had run out. That same day, at three o'clock, while leading her children to vespers, Madame Claës met Pierquin who came to see her, and who accompanied her to Saint-Pierre, chatting in a low voice about her situation.

- My cousin, he said, I could not, without failing in the friendship which attaches me to your family, hide from you the danger in which you are, and not ask you to discuss it with your husband. Who can, if not you, stop him on the edge of the abyss where you walk. The income from the mortgaged property is not sufficient to pay the interest on the sums borrowed; so you are today without any income. If you cut down the woods you own, it would take away the only chance of salvation that will remain for you in the future. My cousin Balthazar is currently in debt for a sum of thirty thousand francs to the house of Protez et Chiffreville in Paris, with what will you pay them, with what will you live? and what will become of you if Claës continues to ask for reagents, glassware, Volta batteries and other bits and pieces. Your entire fortune, minus the house and furniture, has been dissipated in gas and coal. When there was talk, the day before yesterday, of mortgaging his house, do you know what Claës' response was:

- "Devil!" This is the first trace of reason he has given for three years.

Madame Claës painfully squeezed Pierquin's arm, raised her eyes to heaven, and said: - Keep us the secret.
Despite her piety, the poor woman, devastated by these words of stunning clarity, was unable to pray; she remained in her chair between her children, opened her parishioner and did not turn a single page; she had fallen into a contemplation as absorbing as were her husband's meditations. Spanish honor and Flemish probity resonated in his soul with a voice as powerful as that of the organ. The ruin of his children was complete! Between them and the honor of their father, there was no longer any need to hesitate. The necessity of an imminent struggle between her and her husband terrified her; in his eyes he was so large, so imposing, that the mere prospect of his anger agitated him as much as the idea of ​​​​divine majesty.

She was therefore going to leave this constant submission in which she had holy remained as a wife. The interests of her children would force her to go against the tastes of a man she idolized. Would it not often be necessary to bring it back to positive questions, when it hovers in the upper regions of Science, to pull it violently from a happy future to plunge it into what materiality presents at its most hideous, to artists and great people? men. For her, Balthazar Claës was a giant of science, a man full of glory; he could only have forgotten it for the richest hopes; then, he was so deeply sensitive, she had heard him speak with such talent on questions of all kinds, that he must be sincere in saying that he worked for the glory and fortune of his family. This man's love for his wife and children was not only immense, it was infinite. These feelings could not be abolished, they had undoubtedly grown by reproducing themselves in another form.

She, so noble, so generous and so fearful, was going to make the word money and the sound of money ring incessantly in the ears of this great man; show him the wounds of misery, make him hear the cries of distress, when he would hear the melodious voices of Fame. Perhaps the affection that Balthazar had for her would diminish? If she had not had children, she would have courageously and happily embraced the new destiny her husband had for her. Women raised in opulence quickly feel the emptiness covered by material enjoyments; and when their heart, more tired than withered, has made them find the happiness that a constant exchange of true feelings gives, they do not shrink from a mediocre existence, if it follows the being by whom they know they are loved.

Their ideas, their pleasures are subject to the whims of this life outside their own; for them, the only fearful future is to lose it. At this moment, her children separated Pépita from her real life,as much as Balthazar Claës had separated himself from her through Science; so, when she had returned from vespers, and had thrown herself into her shepherdess, she sent her children away, demanding from them the deepest silence; then she asked her husband to come see her; but although Lemulquinier, the old valet, had insisted on taking him away from his laboratory, Balthazar had remained there. Madame Claës had therefore had time to think. And she too remained thoughtful, without paying attention to the hour or the weather or the day. The thought of owing thirty thousand francs and not being able to pay them awakened past pains, joining them to those of the present and the future.

This mass of interests, ideas, sensations found it too weak; she cried. When she saw Balthazar enter, whose expression seemed to her more terrible, more absorbed, more lost than it had ever been, when he did not answer her, she remained at first fascinated by the immobility of this white gaze. and empty, by all the devouring ideas that this bald forehead distilled. Under the influence of this impression, she wanted to die. When she heard that carefree voice expressing a scientific desire at the moment when her heart was crushed, her courage returned; she resolved to fight against this terrible power which had taken away a lover from her, which had taken away a father from her children, a fortune from the house, and happiness from everyone. Nevertheless, she could not repress the constant trepidation which agitated her, for, in all her life, she had not encountered such a solemn scene. Didn't this terrible moment virtually contain his future, and wasn't the past summed up entirely in it?

When she heard that carefree voice expressing a scientific desire at the moment when her heart was crushed, her courage returned; she resolved to fight against this terrible power which had taken away a lover from her, which had taken away a father from her children, a fortune from the house, and happiness from everyone. Nevertheless, she could not repress the constant trepidation which agitated her, for, in all her life, she had not encountered such a solemn scene. Didn't this terrible moment virtually contain his future, and wasn't the past summed up entirely in it? When she heard that carefree voice expressing a scientific desire at the moment when her heart was crushed, her courage returned; she resolved to fight against this terrible power which had taken away a lover from her, which had taken away a father from her children, a fortune from home, and happiness from everyone.Nevertheless, she could not repress the constant trepidation which agitated her, for, in all her life, she had not encountered such a solemn scene. Didn't this terrible moment virtually contain his future, and wasn't the past summed up entirely in it?

Now, weak people, timid people, or those to whom the liveliness of their sensations magnifies the slightest difficulties of life, men seized by an involuntary trembling before the arbiters of their destiny can all conceive the thousands of thoughts which swirled in the head of this woman, and the feelings under the weight of which her heart was compressed, when her husband walked slowly towards the garden door. Most women know the anxieties of the intimate deliberation against which Madame Claës struggled. Thus, even those whose hearts have only been violently moved to declare to their husband some excessive expense or debts owed to the fashion merchant, will understand how the beating of the heart widens as he leaves. of all life. A beautiful woman has grace in throwing herself at the feet of her husband, she finds resources in the poses of pain; while the feeling of his physical defects further increased Madame Claës' fears. So, when she saw Balthazar about to go out, her first movement was to rush towards him; but a cruel thought suppressed her impulse, she was going to stand up in front of him! must she not appear ridiculous to a man who, no longer subject to the fascinations of love, could see things correctly? Joséphine would have gladly lost everything, fortune and children, rather than diminish her power as a woman. She wanted to ward off any bad luck in such a solemn hour, and called loudly: - Balthazar?

He turned mechanically and coughed; but without attention to his wife, he came paying and spit into one of those small square boxes placed at intervals along the woodwork, as in all the apartments of Holland and Belgium. This man, who thought of no one, never forgot the spittoons, so inveterate was this habit. For poor Joséphine, incapable of realizing this oddity, the constant care her husband took with the furniture always caused her incredible anguish; but, at that moment, she was so violent that she threw her out of bounds, and made her cry out in a tone full of impatience in which all her hurt feelings were expressed: - But, sir, I'm talking to you!

“What does that mean?” replied Balthazar, turning around quickly and giving his wife a look where life was coming back and which was like love at first sight for her.

- Sorry, my friend, she said, turning pale. She wanted to get up and hold out her hand to him, but she fell back without strength. -I'm dying! she said in a voice broken by sobs.

At this sight, Balthazar had, like all distracted people, a strong reaction and guessed, so to speak, the secret of this crisis, he immediately took Madame Claës in his arms, opened the door which opened onto the small antechamber, and so quickly passed through the old wooden staircase, where his wife's dress having caught a mouth of the tarrasques which formed the balusters, there remained an entire leg torn off with a great noise. To open it, he kicked at the door of the vestibule common to their apartments; but he found his wife's room closed.

He gently placed Joséphine on an armchair, saying to himself: - My God, where is the key?

- Thank you, my friend, replied Madame Claës, opening her eyes, this is the first time in a long time that I have felt so close to your heart.

- Good God! cried Claës, “the key, here are our people.

Josephine moved for him to take the key which was attached to a ribbon along his pocket. After opening the door, Balthazar threw his wife onto a sofa, went out to prevent his frightened people from coming upstairs by ordering them to serve dinner promptly, and eagerly came to find his wife.

- What is the matter with you, my dear life? he said, sitting down next to her and taking her hand which he kissed.

- But I have nothing left, she replied, I no longer suffer! Only, I would like to have the power of God to place all the gold on earth at your feet.

-Why gold, he asked. And he drew his wife to him, pressed her and kissed her again on the forehead. - Do you not give me greater riches by loving me as you love me, dear and precious creature, he continued.

- Oh ! my Balthazar, why don't you dissipate the anxieties of all of our lives, as you drive away the sorrow from my heart with your voice. Finally, I see it, you are still the same.

- What anxieties are you talking about, my dear?

- But we are ruined, my friend!

“Ruined,” he repeated. He began to smile, caressed his wife's hand while holding it in both of his, and said in a soft voice which had not been heard for a long time: - But tomorrow, my angel, our fortune will perhaps be -be limitless. Yesterday while searching for much more important secrets, I believe I found the way to crystallize carbon, the substance of diamond. O my dear wife!... in a few days you will forgive me for my distractions. It seems that I get distracted sometimes. Didn't I rush you earlier? Be indulgent for a man who has never stopped thinking about you, whose work is full of you, of us.
- Enough, enough, she said, we will talk about all this this evening, my friend. I suffered from too much pain, now I suffered from too much pleasure.

She did not expect to see again this face animated by a feeling as tender for her as it once was, to hear this voice still as sweet as before, and to find again everything she thought she had lost.

- This evening, he continued, I'm willing, we'll talk. If I were absorbed in some meditation, remind me of this promise. This evening I want to leave my calculations, my work, and immerse myself in all the joys of the family, in the pleasures of the heart; because, Pépita, I need it, I thirst for it!

- Will you tell me what you are looking for, Balthazar?

- But, poor child, you would understand nothing.

- Do you think?... Hey! my friend, I have been studying chemistry for almost four months so that I can talk about it with you. I read Fourcroy, Lavoisier, Chaptal, Nollet, Rouelle, Berthollet, Gay-Lussac, Spallanzani, Leuwenhoëk, Galvani, Volta, in short all the books relating to Science that you adore. Come on, you can tell me your secrets.

- Oh ! you are an angel, exclaimed Balthazar, falling at his wife's knees and shedding tears of emotion which made her shudder, we will understand each other in everything!

- Oh! she said, I would throw myself into the fire of hell that kindles your furnaces to hear this word from your mouth and to see you like this. Hearing her daughter's footsteps in the antechamber, she rushed there quickly. - What do you want, Marguerite? she said to her eldest daughter.

- My dear mother, Mr. Pierquin has just arrived. If there's dinner left, we'll need linen, and you forgot to give some this morning.

Madame Claës took a bunch of small keys from her pocket and handed them to her daughter, pointing to the island wooden cabinets which lined this antechamber, and said to her: - My daughter, take a right into the Graindorge services.

- Since my dear Balthazar returns to me today, give him back to me in full? she said, returning and giving her countenance an expression of sweet mischief. My friend, go to your place, do me the favor of dressing you, we have Pierquin for dinner. Come on, take off these torn clothes. Hey, see these spots? Isn't it muriatic or sulfuric acid that has lined all these holes with yellow? Come on, get younger, I'll send you Mulquinier when I've changed my dress.

Balthazar wanted to go into his room through the connecting door, but he had forgotten that it was closed on his side. He left through the antechamber.

- Marguerite, put the laundry on an armchair, and come and dress me, I don't want Martha, said Madame Claës, calling her daughter.

Balthazar had taken Marguerite, turned her towards him with a joyful movement, saying to her: - Hello, my child, you look very pretty today in this muslin dress, and with this pink belt. Then he kissed her on the forehead and shook her hand.

- Mom, Dad has just kissed me, said Marguerite as she entered her mother's house, he seems very happy, very happy!

- My child, your father is a very great man. He has been working for the glory and fortune of his family for almost three years, and he believes he has achieved the goal of his research. This day should be a great celebration for all of us...

- My dear mother, replied Marguerite, our people were so sad to see him frowning, that we will not be alone in our joy. Oh ! so put on another belt, this one is too faded.

- Fine, but let's hurry, I want to go talk to Pierquin. Where is he?

- In the visiting room, he is having fun with Jean.

- Where are Gabriel and Félicie?

- I heard them in the garden.

- Hey! Well, go down quickly and make sure they don't pick any tulips there! your father hasn't seen them yet this year, and today he might want to look at them when he leaves the table. Tell Mulquinier to bring your father everything he needs for his toilet.

When Marguerite had gone out, Madame Claës glanced at her children through the windows of her room which overlooked the garden, and saw them busy looking at one of those insects with green wings, shiny and spotted with gold, commonly called seamstresses.

- Be good, my beloved ones, she said, bringing up part of the sliding glass which she stopped to ventilate her room. Then she knocked gently on the connecting door to make sure that her husband had not fallen back into any distraction. He opened it, and she said to him in a cheerful accent when she saw him undressed: - You won't leave me alone with Pierquin for long, will you? You will join me promptly.
She found herself so agile in descending that, hearing her, a stranger would not have recognized the steps of a lame woman.

“Monsieur, in carrying off Madame,” said the valet whom she put on the stairs, “has torn the dress, it is only a nasty piece of material, but he has broken the jaw of this face, and I don't know who can deliver it. Here is our dishonored staircase, this banister was so beautiful!

- Well! my poor Mulquinier, don't have it mended, it's not a misfortune.

- So what happens, Mulquinier said to himself, so that it isn't a disaster? would my master have found the absolute ?

“Hello, Monsieur Pierquin,” said Madame Claës, opening the door to the parlor.

The notary ran to give his cousin his arm, but she only ever took that of her husband; so she thanked her cousin with a smile and said to him: - Perhaps you are coming for the thirty thousand francs?

- Yes, madam, on returning home, I received a letter of advice from the house of Protez and Chiffreville which drew, on Mr. Claës, six bills of exchange of five thousand francs each.

- Hey! Well, don't talk to Balthazar about it today, she said. Dine with us. If by chance he asks you why you have come, please find some plausible pretext. Give me the letter, I will speak to him about this matter myself. “Everything is fine,” she continued, seeing the notary’s astonishment. In a few months, my husband will probably pay back the money he borrowed.

Hearing this sentence said in a low voice, the notary looked at Miss Claës who was returning from the garden, followed by Gabriel and Félicie, and said: - I have never seen Mademoiselle Marguerite as pretty as she is at the moment.

Madame Claës, who had sat down in her armchair and had taken little Jean on her knees, raised her head, looked at her daughter and the notary, affecting an indifferent air.

Pierquin was of average height, neither fat nor thin, with a vulgarly beautiful face which expressed a sadness more sorrowful than melancholic, a reverie more indeterminate than pensive; he was considered a misanthrope, but he was too interested, too big an eater, for his divorce from the world to be real. His gaze usually lost in space, his indifferent attitude, his affected silence seemed to show depth, and in reality covered the emptiness and nullity of a notary exclusively occupied with human interests, but who was still young enough to be envious. Allying himself with House Claës would have been the cause of boundless devotion for him, if he had not had some underlying feeling of avarice. He acted generously, but he knew how to count. Also, without realizing himself for his changes in manner, his attentions were cutting, harsh and gruff, as those of business people generally are, when Claës seemed ruined to him; then they became affectionate, easy-going and almost servile, when he suspected some happy outcome to his cousin's labors.

Sometimes he saw in Marguerite Claës an infanta whom it was impossible for a simple provincial notary to approach; sometimes he considered her a poor girl who would be too happy if he deigned to make her his wife. He was a man of the provinces, and a Fleming, without malice; he did not even lack devotion or kindness; but he had a naive selfishness which made his qualities incomplete, and ridiculous which spoiled his person. At that moment, Madame Claës remembered the brief tone with which the notary had spoken to her under the porch of the Saint-Pierre church, and noticed the revolution that his response had made in her manners; she guessed the depths of her thoughts, and with a discerning look she tried to read her daughter's soul to know if she was thinking of her cousin; but she saw in herself only the most perfect indifference. After a few moments, during which the conversation turned to the noises of the city, the master of the house came down from his room where, for a moment, his wife had been hearing, with inexpressible pleasure, boots shouting on the floor.

His gait, similar to that of a young and light man, announced a complete metamorphosis, and the anticipation that his appearance caused Madame Claës was so keen that she could hardly contain a thrill when he descended the stairs. Balthazar soon appeared in the then fashionable costume. He wore well-polished cuffed boots which revealed the top of white silk stockings, blue casimir breeches with gold buttons, a white flowered waistcoat, and a blue tailcoat.He had trimmed his beard, combed his hair, perfumed his head, cut his nails, and washed his hands with so much care that he seemed unrecognizable to those who had seen him previously. Instead of an almost demented old man, his children, his wife and the notary saw a man of forty years old whose affable and polite face was full of attractions. The fatigue and suffering betrayed by the thinness of the contours and the adhesion of the skin to the bones even had a sort of grace.

- Hello Pierquin, said Balthazar Claës.

Having become a father and husband again, the chemist took his last child on his wife's knees, and raised him in the air, quickly lowering him and raising him alternately.

- See this little one? he said to the notary. Doesn't such a pretty creature make you want to get married? Believe me, my dear, family pleasures console everything. - Brr! he said, removing Jean. Pound! he cried, putting him on the ground. Brr! Pound!

The child laughed out loud to see himself alternately at the top of the ceiling and on the floor. The mother looked away so as not to betray the emotion that such a seemingly simple game caused her and which, for her, was quite a domestic revolution.

- Let's see how you're doing, said Balthazar, placing his son on the floor and throwing himself into a wing chair. The child ran to his father, attracted by the shine of the gold buttons which attached the breeches above the ear of the boots. - You're cute! said the father, kissing him, you are a Claës, you walk straight. - Well! Gabriel, how is Father Morillon? he said to his eldest son, taking his ear and twisting it, do you defend yourself valiantly against the themes, the versions? Are you a firm believer in mathematics?

Then Balthazar got up, came to Pierquin, and said to him with that affectionate courtesy that characterized him: - My dear, perhaps you have something to ask me? He gave her his arm and led her into the garden, adding: - Come see my tulips?

Madame Claës looked at her husband as he went out, and could not contain her joy at seeing him again so young, so affable, so much himself, she got up, took her daughter by the waist, and kissed her saying: - My dear Marguerite, my darling child, I love you even better today than usual.

“It has been a long time since I saw my father so kind,” she replied.

Lemulquinier came to announce that dinner was served. To avoid Pierquin offering her his arm, Madame Claës took Balthazar's, and the whole family went into the dining room.

This room, whose ceiling was made up of exposed beams, but embellished with paint, washed and refreshed every year, was furnished with high oak dressers on the shelves of which the most curious pieces of heritage tableware could be seen.

The walls were lined with purple leather on which hunting subjects had been printed in gold lines. Above the dressers, here and there, carefully arranged feathers of curious birds and rare shells shone. The chairs had not been changed since the beginning of the sixteenth century and offered this square shape, these twisted columns, and this small back upholstered with a fringed fabric whose fashion was so widespread that Raphael illustrated it in his painting called the Virgin of the Chair .

The wood had turned black, but the golden nails shone as if they were new, and the carefully renewed fabrics were of an admirable red color. All of Flanders came back to life there with its Spanish innovations. On the table, the carafes and bottles had that respectable air given to them by the rounded bellies of the ancient curve. The glasses were indeed those old tall glasses which are seen in all the paintings of the Dutch or Flemish school. The stoneware crockery decorated with colored figures in the style of Bernard de Palissy, came from the English factory of Weegvood. The silverware was massive, with square sides, full bosses, real family silverware whose pieces, all different in carving, fashion, shape, attested to the beginnings of the well-being and the progress of the fortune of the Claës. The napkins had fringes, a typical Spanish fashion.

As for linen, everyone must think that among the Claës, the point of honor was to have magnificent linen. This service, this silverware was intended for the daily use of the family. The house in front, where the celebrations were held, had its particular luxury, whose wonders reserved for the gala days, gave them that solemnity which no longer exists when things are brought into disrepute, so to speak, by habitual usage. In the back quarter, everything was marked by patriarchal naivety. Finally, a delightful detail, a vine ran outside along the windows which were lined on all sides by vines.

- You remain faithful to traditions, madame, said Pierquin, receiving a plate of this thyme soup, in which Flemish or Dutch cooks put small balls of meat rolled up and mixed with slices of toasted bread, here is the Sunday soup in used by our fathers! Your house and that of my uncle Des Raquets are the only ones where we find this historic soup in the Netherlands. Ah! sorry, old Mr. Savaron de Savarus still proudly has it served in Tournay at his home, but everywhere else old Flanders is leaving. Now the furniture is made in the Greek style, everywhere we see only helmets, shields, spears and fasces. Everyone rebuilds their house, sells their old furniture, remelts their silverware, or swaps it for Sèvres porcelain which is worth neither old Saxony nor the Chinoiserie. Oh ! I am Flemish at heart. So my heart bleeds when I see boilermakers buying our beautiful furniture inlaid with copper or tin for the price of wood or metal. But the social state wants to change its skin, I believe. Not even the processes of art are lost! When everything has to happen quickly, nothing can be done consciously. During my last trip to Paris, I was taken to see the paintings exhibited at the Louvre. My word of honor is screens, these canvases without air, without depth where painters fear to add color. And they want, they say, to overthrow our old school. Ah! Yes N?...

- Our ancient painters, replied Balthazar, studied the various combinations and the resistance of colors, by subjecting them to the action of the sun and the rain. But you are right: today the material resources of art are less cultivated than ever.

Madame Claës was not listening to the conversation. Hearing from the notary that porcelain services were in fashion, she immediately had the bright idea of ​​selling the heavy silverware from her brother's estate, hoping to be able to pay off the thirty thousand francs owed by her husband.

- Oh! ah! said Balthazar to the notary when Madame Claës resumed the conversation, are they taking care of my work in Douai?

- Yes, replied Pierquin, everyone wonders what you spend so much money on. Yesterday, I heard Mr. First President deplore that a man of your kind was looking for the philosopher's stone. I then allowed myself to respond that you were too educated not to know that it was measuring yourself against the impossible, too Christian to believe you could prevail over God, and like all Claës, too good a calculator to change your money against powder in Perlimpinpin . However, I will admit to you that I shared the regrets that your retirement caused to the whole of society. You're really out of town. In truth, madame, you would have been delighted if you had been able to hear the praise that everyone was pleased to give you and Monsieur Claës.

- You acted like a good parent by rejecting imputations whose least evil would be to make me ridiculous, replied Balthazar. Ah! the people of Douais think I am ruined! Hey! well, my dear Pierquin, in two months I will give, to celebrate the anniversary of my marriage, a party whose magnificence will restore to me the esteem that our dear compatriots give to the crowns.

Madame Claës blushed deeply. For two years this anniversary had been forgotten. Like those madmen who have moments during which their faculties shine with unusual brilliance, Balthazar had never been so spiritual in his tenderness. He showed himself to be full of attention to his children, and his conversation was seductive in its grace, wit and relevance. This return of fatherhood, absent for so long, was certainly the most beautiful celebration he could give to his wife for whom his words and his gaze had summarized this constant sympathy of expression which is felt from heart to heart and which proves a delicious identity of feeling.

Old Lemulquinier seemed to be growing younger, he came and went with an unusual joy caused by the fulfillment of his secret hopes. The change so suddenly made in his master's manner was even more significant for him than for Madame Claës. Where the family saw happiness, the valet saw fortune. By helping Balthazar in his manipulations, he had embraced his madness. Either he would have grasped the scope of his research in the explanations which eluded the chemist when the goal receded before his hands, or whether the innate penchant in man for imitation would have made him adopt the ideas of the one in the In the atmosphere in which he lived, Lemulquinier had conceived for his master a superstitious feeling mixed with terror, admiration and selfishness.

The laboratory was for him what a lottery office is for the people, organized hope. Every evening he went to bed saying to himself: Tomorrow, perhaps we will swim in gold! And the next day he woke up with faith still as strong as the day before. Its name indicated a completely Flemish origin. Formerly, common people were only known by a nickname taken from their profession, their country, their physical conformation or their moral qualities. This nickname became the name of the bourgeois family they founded upon their freedom. In Flanders, linen thread merchants were called mulquiniers, and such was undoubtedly the profession of the man who, among the ancestors of the old valet, passed from the state of serf to that of bourgeois until Unknown misfortunes return the mulquinier's grandson to his original state of serf, plus pay. The history of Flanders, its thread and its trade was therefore summed up in this old servant, often euphoniously called Mulquinier.

His character and physiognomy did not lack originality. His triangular face was broad, tall and scarred by smallpox which had given him fantastic appearances, leaving a multitude of white and shiny lineaments. Thin and tall, he had a serious, mysterious gay. His small eyes, orange like the smooth yellow wig he had on his head, cast only oblique glances. Its exterior was therefore in harmony with the feeling of curiosity it excited. His quality as a preparer initiated into the secrets of his master, about whose work he kept silent, invested him with a charm. The inhabitants of the rue de Paris watched him pass with interest mixed with fear, because he had sibyllic answers and always full of treasures. Proud of being necessary to his master, he exercised over his comrades a sort of annoying authority, which he took advantage of for himself by obtaining these concessions which made him half master of the house.Unlike Flemish servants, who are extremely attached to the house, he only had affection for Balthazar. If some sorrow afflicted Madame Claës, or if some favorable event happened in the family, he ate his buttered bread and drank his beer with his usual phlegm.

When dinner was over, Madame Claës suggested that we have coffee in the garden, in front of the tulip bush which adorned the middle. The earthen pots in which were the tulips whose names could be read on engraved slates, had been buried and arranged so as to form a pyramid at the top of which rose a Dragonmaw tulip that Balthazar alone owned. This flower, named tulipa Claësiana , brought together the seven colors, and its long indentations seemed golden at the edges. Balthazar's father, who had several times refused ten thousand florins, took such great precautions to ensure that not a single seed could be stolen that he kept it in the parlor and often spent whole days contemplating it. The stem was enormous, very straight, firm, of an admirable green color; the proportions of the plant were in harmony with the calyx, the colors of which were distinguished by that brilliant clarity which formerly gave so much value to these sumptuous flowers.

“That's thirty or forty thousand francs worth of tulips,” said the notary, looking alternately at his cousin and the bush of a thousand colors. Madame Claës was too enthusiastic about the appearance of these flowers, which the rays of the setting sun made look like precious stones, to fully grasp the meaning of the notarial observation.

- What's the point, the notary continued, addressing Balthazar, you should sell them.

- Well! so do I need money! replied Claës, making the gesture of a man to whom forty thousand francs seemed like a small thing.

There was a moment of silence during which the children made several exclamations.

- See, mother, this one.

- Oh ! what a beautiful one!

- What is this one called?

“What an abyss for human reason,” cried Balthazar, raising his hands and clapping them in a desperate gesture. A combination of hydrogen and oxygen brings out through its different dosages, in the same environment and from the same principle, these colors which each constitute a different result.

His wife understood well the terms of this proposition which was stated too quickly for her to fully comprehend it, Balthazar thought that she had studied her favorite Science, and said to her, making a mysterious sign to her: - You would understand, you would not I don't know yet what I mean! And he seemed to fall back into one of those meditations which were habitual to him.

- I believe it, said Pierquin, taking a cup of coffee from Marguerite. Chase away the natural, it comes back at a gallop, he added in a low voice, addressing Madame Claës. You will be kind enough to speak to him yourself, the devil would not draw him out of his contemplation. That's it until tomorrow.

He said goodbye to Claës who pretended not to hear him, kissed little Jean whom the mother was holding in her arms, and, after making a deep bow, he with Drew. When the front door sounded as it closed, Balthazar grabbed his wife by the waist, and dissipated the worry that her feigned reverie might have given him by whispering in her ear: - I knew well how to send him away.

Madame Claës turned her head towards her husband without being ashamed to show him the tears that came to her eyes, they were so sweet! then she rested her forehead on Balthazar's shoulder and let Jean slide to the ground.

“Let's go back to the visiting room,” she said after a pause.

Throughout the evening, Balthazar was almost madly cheerful; he invented a thousand games for his children, and played so well on his own account that he did not notice two or three absences made by his wife. Around half past nine, when Jean had gone to bed, when Marguerite returned to the parlor after helping her sister Félicie to undress, she found her mother sitting in the large wing chair, and her father chatting with her, holding her hand. She feared disturbing her parents and seemed to want to leave without speaking to them; Madame Claës noticed this and said to her: - Come, Marguerite, come, my dear child. Then she drew her towards her and kissed her piously on the forehead, adding: - Take your book to your room, and go to bed early.

- Good evening, my darling daughter, said Balthazar.

Marguerite kissed her father and left. Claës and his wife remained alone for a few moments, busy watching the last shades of twilight, which were dying in the foliage of the garden, which had already turned black, and whose outlines were barely visible in the light. When it was almost dark, Balthazar said to his wife in an emotional voice: - Let's go upstairs.

Long before English customs had consecrated a woman's bedroom as a sacred place, that of a Flemish woman was impenetrable. The good housewives of this country did not make it a display of virtue, but a habit acquired from childhood, a domestic superstition which made a bedroom a delicious sanctuary where one breathed tender feelings, where the simple united with all that is sweetest and most sacred in social life. In the particular position in which Madame Claës found herself, any woman would have wanted to gather around her the most elegant things; but she had done it with exquisite taste, knowing what influences the appearance of what surrounds us has on feelings. For a pretty creature it would have been a luxury, for her it was a necessity.

She had understood the significance of these words: We make ourselves a pretty woman! maxim which directed all the actions of Napoleon's first wife and often made her false while Madame Claës was always natural and true. Although Balthazar knew his wife's room well, his forgetfulness of the material things of life had been so complete that on entering it he experienced gentle shudders as if he were seeing it for the first time. The sumptuous gaiety of a triumphant woman burst forth into the splendid colors of the tulips which rose from the long necks of large Chinese porcelain vases, skillfully arranged, and in the profusion of lights whose effects could only be compared to those of the more joyful fanfares . The light of the candles gave a harmonious glow to the linen-gray silk fabrics, the monotony of which was nuanced by the reflections of gold soberly distributed on a few objects, and by the varied tones of the flowers which resembled sprays of precious stones.

The secret of these preparations was him, always him!... Joséphine could not say more eloquently to Balthazar that he was always the source of her joys and her pains. The appearance of this room put the soul in a delicious state, and chased away all sad thoughts, leaving only the feeling of equal and pure happiness. The fabric of the hanging bought in China gave off this sweet smell which penetrates the body without pulling it. Finally, the carefully drawn curtains betrayed a desire for solitude, a jealous intention to keep the slightest sounds of speech, and to shut out the gaze of the reconquered husband there. Adorned with her beautiful, perfectly smooth black hair which fell on each side of her forehead like two raven wings, Madame Claës, wrapped in a bathrobe which went up to her neck and garnished with a long cape with bubbling lace, went to pull the tapestry door which allowed no noise from outside. Of the,Josephine threw at her husband, who was sitting near the fireplace, one of those cheerful smiles with which a spiritual woman whose soul sometimes embellishes her face knows how to express irresistible hopes.

The greatest charm of a woman consists in a constant appeal to the generosity of a man, in a gracious declaration of weakness by which she prides him, and awakens in him the most magnificent feelings. Doesn't the admission of weakness involve magical seductions? When the rings of the door had slipped dully on their wooden rod, she turned towards her husband, seeming to want to conceal her bodily defects at that moment by resting her hand on a chair, to drag herself gracefully. He was calling for help.

Balthazar, lost for a moment in the contemplation of this olive head which stood out against this gray background, attracting and satisfying the eye, got up to pick up his wife and carried her to the sofa. It was exactly what she wanted.

- You promised me, she said, taking her hand which she kept in her electrifying hands, to initiate me into the secret of your research. Agree, my friend, that I am worthy of knowing it, since I had the courage to study a science condemned by the Church, to be able to understand you; but I'm curious, don't hide anything from me. So, tell me by what chance you got up one morning worried, when the day before I had left you so happy?

- And it is to hear about chemistry that you set out so coquettishly?

- My friend, receiving a confidence which brings me deeper into your heart, is it not for me the greatest pleasure, is it not an understanding of soul which understands and generates all the felicities of the life! Your love comes back to me pure and complete, I want to know what idea was powerful enough to deprive me of it for so long. Yes, I am more jealous of one thought than of all women combined. Love is immense, but it is not infinite; while Science has limitless depths where I cannot see you going alone. I hate anything that happens between us. If you obtained the glory you are chasing, I would be unhappy; Would it not give you great pleasure? I alone, sir, must be the source of your pleasures.

- No, it was not an idea, my angel, that threw me on this beautiful path, but a man.

“A man,” she cried in terror.

- Do you remember, Pépita, the Polish officer we lodged with us in 1809?

-If I remember! she says. I have often grown impatient because my memory so often made me see his two eyes resembling tongues of fire, the salt shakers above his eyebrows where the coals of hell could be seen, his broad hairless skull, his mustaches raised, his face angular, devastated !... Finally, what frightening calm in his approach?... If there had been room in the inns, he certainly would not have slept here.

- This Polish gentleman was called Mr. Adam de Wierzchownia, continued Balthazar. When in the evening you left us alone in the visiting room, we accidentally started talking about chemistry. Torn by poverty from the study of this science, he became a soldier. I think it was over a glass of sugar water that we recognized ourselves as followers. When I told Mulquinier to bring some lump sugar, the captain made a gesture of surprise. - You studied chemistry, he asked me.

- With Lavoisier, I replied. - You are very happy to be free and rich! he cried. And there came from his chest one of those human sighs which reveal a hell of pain hidden under a skull or locked in a heart, in short it was something ardent, concentrated that words do not express. He finished his thought with a look that froze me. After a break, he told me that with Poland almost dead, he had taken refuge in Sweden. He had sought consolation there in the study of chemistry for which he had always felt an irresistible vocation. - Hey! well, he added, I see it, you recognized like me, that gum arabic, sugar and starch powdered, give an absolutely similar substance, and on analyze the same qualitative result .

He paused again, and after examining me with a pollizing eye, he spoke to me confidentially and in a low voice solemn words of which, today, only the general meaning remains in my memory; but he accompanied them with a power of sound, warm inflections and a force of gesture which stirred my insides and struck my understanding as a hammer beats iron on an anvil. Here then, in abbreviation, are these reasonings which were for me the coal that God put on the tongue of Isaiah, because my studies with Lavoisier allowed me to feel their full significance.“Sir,” he said to me, “the parity of these three substances, apparently so distinct, led me to think that all the productions of nature must have the same principle. The work of modern chemistry has proven the truth of this law, for the most considerable part of natural effects. Chemistry divides creation into two distinct portions: organic nature, inorganic nature. By understanding all plant or animal creations in which a more or less perfected organization is shown, or, to be more exact, a greater or lesser motility which determines more or less feeling, organic nature is, certainly, the most important part of our world .

Now, analysis has reduced all the products of this nature with four simple bodies which are three gases: nitrogen, hydrogen, oxygen; and another simple non-metallic and solid body, carbon. On the contrary, inorganic nature, so little varied, void of movement, of feeling, and to which we can refuse the gift of growth that Linnaeus lightly granted it, has fifty-three simple bodies whose different combinations form all its products. Is it probable that the means are more numerous where there are fewer results?... Also, the opinion of my former master is that these fifty-three bodies have a common principle, formerly modified by the action of a power that is extinct today , but which human genius must revive. Hey! well, suppose for a moment that the activity of this power was awakened, we would have unitary chemistry. Organic and inorganic natures would probably rest on four principles, and if we managed to decompose nitrogen, which we must consider as a negation, we would only have three. Here we are already close to the great Ternary of the ancients and the alchemists of the Middle Ages whom we wrongly mock. Modern chemistry is still just that.

It's a lot and it's a little. This is a lot, because chemistry has become accustomed to not shying away from any difficulty. This is little, compared to what remains to be done. Chance has served this beautiful Science well! Thus, this tear of pure crystallized carbon, the diamond, did it not seem the last substance that it was possible to create. The ancient alchemists who believed that gold was decomposable and therefore feasible, balked at the idea of ​​​​producing diamonds; however, we have discovered the nature and law of its composition. Me, he said, I went further! An experiment showed me that the mysterious Ternary which we have been dealing with since time immemorial, will not be found in current analyzes which lack direction towards a fixed point.

First here is the experience. Sow watercress seeds (to take a substance among all those of organic nature) in sulfur flower (to also take a simple body).Water the seeds with distilled water so as not to allow any principle that is not certain to penetrate into the products of germination? The seeds germinate, grow in a known environment, feeding only on principles known through analysis. Cut the stem of the plants several times, in order to obtain a large enough quantity to obtain a few large ashes by burning them and thus be able to operate on a certain mass; hey! well, analyzing these ashes you will find silicic acid, alumina, phosphate and calcium carbonate, magnesium carbonate, sulfate, potassium carbonate and ferric oxide, as if watercress had come on the ground, at the edge of the waters. Now, these substances do not exist either in the sulfur, a simple body, which served as soil for the plant, nor in the water used to water it and whose composition is known; but as they are not in the seed either, we can only explain their presence in the plant by supposing an element common to the bodies contained in the watercress, and to those which served as its medium.

Thus air, distilled water, sulfur flower, and the substances that the analysis of watercress gives, that is to say potash, lime, magnesia, alumina, etc., would have a common principle wandering in the atmosphere as the sun does. From this undeniable experience, he cried, I deduced the existence of Water the seeds with distilled water so as not to allow any principle that is not certain to penetrate into the products of germination? The seeds germinate, grow in a known environment, feeding only on principles known through analysis. Cut the stem of the plants several times, in order to obtain a large enough quantity to obtain a few large ashes by burning them and thus be able to operate on a certain mass; hey! well, analyzing these ashes you will find silicic acid, alumina, phosphate and calcium carbonate, magnesium carbonate, sulfate, potassium carbonate and ferric oxide, as if watercress had come on the ground, at the edge of the waters. Now, these substances do not exist either in the sulfur, a simple body, which served as soil for the plant, nor in the water used to water it and whose composition is known; but as they are not in the seed either, we can only explain their presence in the plant by supposing an element common to the bodies contained in the watercress, and to those which served as its medium. Thus air, distilled water, sulfur flower, and the substances that the analysis of watercress gives, that is to say potash, lime, magnesia, alumina, etc., would have a common principle wandering in the atmosphere as the sun does.

From this undeniable experience, he cried, I deduced the existence ofWater the seeds with distilled water so as not to allow any principle that is not certain to penetrate into the products of germination? The seeds germinate, grow in a known environment, feeding only on principles known through analysis. Cut the stem of the plants several times, in order to obtain a large enough quantity to obtain a few large ashes by burning them and thus be able to operate on a certain mass; hey! well, analyzing these ashes you will find silicic acid, alumina, phosphate and calcium carbonate, magnesium carbonate, sulfate, potassium carbonate and ferric oxide, as if watercress had come on the ground, at the edge of the waters. Now, these substances do not exist either in the sulfur, a simple body, which served as soil for the plant, nor in the water used to water it and whose composition is known; but as they are not in the seed either, we can only explain their presence in the plant by supposing an element common to the bodies contained in the watercress, and to those which served as its medium.

Thus air, distilled water, sulfur flower, and the substances that the analysis of watercress gives, that is to say potash, lime, magnesia, alumina, etc., would have a common principle wandering in the atmosphere as the sun does. From this undeniable experience, he cried, I deduced the existence of the Absolute ! A substance common to all creations, modified by a unique force, such is the clear and clear position of the problem offered by the Absolute and which seemed to me searchable . There you will meet the mysterious Ternary, before which Humanity has always knelt: the raw material, the means, the result. You will find this terrible number Three in all human things, it dominates religions, sciences and laws. Here, he told me, war and poverty have stopped my work. You are a student of Lavoisier, you are rich and master of your time, I can therefore share with you my conjectures. This is the goal that my personal experiences have shown me.

The ONE MATTER must be a principle common to the three gases and to carbon. The MEAN must be the principle common to negative electricity and positive electricity. Walk in search of the proofs which will establish these two truths, you will have the supreme reason for all the effects of nature. Oh ! sir, when we carry there,” he said, slapping his forehead, “the last word of creation, by sensing the Absolute, is it living to be drawn into the movement of this mass of rushing men? at a fixed time on top of each other without knowing what they are doing. My current life is exactly the opposite of a dream.My body comes and goes, acts, finds itself in the middle of fire, cannons, men, crosses Europe at the whim of a power to which I obey while despising it.

My soul has no consciousness of these acts, it remains fixed, immersed in an idea, numbed by this idea, the search for the Absolute, for this principle by which seeds, absolutely similar, placed in the same environment, give , one of the white chalices, the other of the yellow chalices! Phenomenon applicable to silkworms which, fed on the same leaves and made up without apparent differences, make some yellow silk and others white silk; finally applicable to the man himself who often legitimately has entirely dissimilar children with the mother and himself. Does not the logical deduction of this fact also imply the reason for all the effects of nature? Hey! What could be more consistent with our ideas about God than believing that he did everything by the simplest means?

The Pythagorean adoration for the ONE from which all numbers come and which represents the one matter; that for the number TWO, the first aggregation and the type of all the others; that for the number THREE, which, throughout time, has configured God, that is to say Matter, Force and Product, did they not traditionally summarize the confused knowledge of the Absolute. Sthall, Becher, Paracelsus, Agrippa, all the great researchers of occult causes had as their watchword the Trismegistus, which means the great Ternary.

The ignorant, accustomed to condemning alchemy, this transcendent chemistry, undoubtedly do not know that we are busy justifying the passionate research of these great men! The Absolute found, I would then have clashed with the Movement. Ah! while I feed myself with powder, and order men to die quite uselessly, my former master piles discoveries upon discoveries, he flies towards the Absolute! And me ! I will die like a dog, in the corner of a battery. “When this poor big man had regained a little calm, he said to me with a kind of touching brotherhood: “If I found an experiment to do, I would leave it to you before I die. “My Pépita,” said Balthazar, shaking his wife's hand, “tears of rage flowed down the hollow cheeks of this man while he threw into my soul the fire of this reasoning that Lavoisier had already timidly made, without daring to abandon yourself to it .

- How, cried Madame Claës, who could not help interrupting her husband, this man, by spending a night under our roof, took away your affections from us, destroyed, with a single sentence and a single word, the happiness of a family. O my dear Balthazar! did this man make the sign of the cross? did you examine it carefully? The Tempter alone can have this yellow eye from which the fire of Prometheus issued. Yes, only the demon could tear you away from me. Since that day, you have no longer been a father, a husband, or a head of the family.

- What! said Balthazar, standing up in the room and casting a piercing look at his wife, you blame your husband for raising himself above other men, in order to be able to throw under your feet the divine purple of glory, like a small offering with the treasures of your heart! But you don't know what I've been doing for three years? giant steps! my Pépita, he said, becoming animated. His face then appeared to his wife more sparkling under the fire of genius than it had been under the fire of love, and she wept as she listened to him. - I combined chlorine and nitrogen, I decomposed several bodies thus considered simple, I found new metals.

Hey, he said, seeing his wife's tears, I broke down the tears. Tears contain some phosphate of lime, sodium chloride, mucus and water. He continued speaking without seeing the horrible convulsion that affected Joséphine's countenance; he was mounted on Science, which was carrying her on the back, wings outstretched, far from the material world. - This analysis, my dear, is one of the best proofs of the system of the Absolute. All life involves combustion. Depending on the more or less activity of the home, life is more or less persistent. Thus the destruction of the mineral is indefinitely delayed, because the combustion there is virtual, latent or insensible. Thus plants which are constantly refreshed by the combination from which humidity results, live indefinitely, and there are several plants contemporary with the last cataclysm.

But, whenever nature has perfected an apparatus, that for an unknown purpose she has thrown into it feeling, instinct or intelligence, three degrees marked in the organic system, these three organisms want a combustion whose activity is a direct result of the result obtained. Man, who represents the highest point of intelligence and who offers us the only apparatus from which results a semi-creative power, thought!is, among zoological creations, the one where combustion is found in its most intense degree and whose powerful effects are in some way revealed by the phosphates, sulfates and carbonates that its body provides in our analysis. Could these substances not be the traces left in him by the action of the electric fluid, the principle of all fertilization? Wouldn't electricity manifest itself in him in more varied combinations than in any other animal? Would he not have greater faculties than any other creature to absorb larger portions of the absolute principle, and would he not assimilate them to compose into a more perfect machine, his force and his ideas!

I believe him. The man is a shame. So according to me, the idiot would be the one whose brain contains the least phosphorus or any other product of electro-magnetism, the madman the one whose brain contains too much, the ordinary man the one who has little, the man of genius one whose brain would be saturated with it to a suitable degree. The man constantly in love, the porter, the dancer, the great eater, are those who would displace the resulting force of their electrical apparatus. So our feelings...

- Enough, Balthazar; you frighten me, you commit sacrileges. What! my love would be...

- From the ethereal matter which emerges, said Claës, and which undoubtedly is the word of the Absolute. So think that if me, me first! if I find, if I find, if I find! Saying these words in three different tones, his face rose by degrees to the expression of the inspired. I make metals, I make diamonds, I repeat nature, he cried.

- Will you be happier? she cried in despair. Cursed Science, cursed demon! you forget, Claës, that you are committing the sin of pride of which Satan was guilty. You are committed to God.

- Oh ! Oh ! God!

- He denies it! she cried, wringing her hands. Claës, God has a power that you will never have.

At this argument which seemed to annul his dear Science, he looked at his wife trembling.

- What! he said.

- The unique force, movement. This is what I understood through the books that you forced me to read.

Analysis of flowers, fruits and Malaga wine; you will certainly discover their principles which come, like those of your watercress, in an environment which seems to be foreign to them; you can, if necessary, find them in nature; but by bringing them together, will you make these flowers, these fruits, the wine of Malaga? will you have the incomprehensible effects of the sun, will you have the atmosphere of Spain? To decompose is not to create.

- If I find the coercive force, I will be able to create it.

“Nothing will stop him,” cried Pépita in a desperate voice. Oh ! my love, he is killed, I lost him. She burst into tears, and her eyes, animated by pain and by the holiness of the feelings they expressed, shone more beautiful than ever through her tears. Yes, she continued sobbing, you are dead to everything. I see it, Science is more powerful in you than yourself, and its flight has carried you too high for you to ever descend to being the companion of a poor woman. What happiness can I still offer you? Ah! I would like, sad consolation, to believe that God created you to manifest his works and sing his praises, that he contained in your bosom an irresistible force which masters you.

But no, God is good, he would leave in your heart some thoughts for a woman who adores you, for children who you must protect. Yes, only the devil can help you to walk alone in the middle of these abysses with no way out, among this darkness where you are not enlightened by faith from above, but by a horrible belief in your faculties! Otherwise, would you not have noticed, my friend, that you have devoured nine hundred thousand francs over the past three years? Oh ! give me justice, you, my god on this earth, I blame you for nothing. If we were alone, I would bring you all our fortunes on my knees, saying to you: Take it, throw it into your stove, make smoke from it, and I would laugh to see it flutter. If you were poor, I would shamelessly go begging to get you the coal you need to maintain your stove. Finally, if by rushing there, I made you find your execrable Absolute, Claës, I would rush there with happiness, since you place your glory and your delights in this as yet undiscovered secret.

But our children, Claës, our children! what will become of them, if you do not soon guess this secret of hell! Do you know why Pierquin came? He came to ask you for thirty thousand francs that you owe, without having them. Your properties are no longer yours. I told him that you had these thirty thousand francs, in order to spare you the embarrassment his questions would have caused you; but to pay this sum, I thought of selling our old silverware. She saw her husband's eyes about to moisten, and threw herself desperately at his feet, raising her pleading hands towards him. My friend, she cried, stop your research for a moment, let's save the money necessary for what you will need to resume it later, if you cannot give up continuing your work. Oh ! I don't judge her, I will blow out your stoves, if you want;but do not reduce our children to misery, you can no longer love them, Science has devoured your heart, do not bequeath them an unhappy life in exchange for the happiness you owed them. The maternal feeling has too often been the weakest in my heart, yes, I have often wished not to be a mother so that I could unite more intimately with my soul, with your life! also, to stifle my remorse! must I plead with you the cause of your children before my own.

Her hair spread unfurled and floated over her shoulders, her eyes darted a thousand feelings like so many arrows, she triumphed over her rival, Balthazar picked her up, carried her to the sofa, placed himself at her feet.

- So I have caused you grievance, he said to her with the accent of a man waking up from a painful dream.
“Poor Claës, you will give us more despite yourself,” she said, running her hand through her hair. Come on, come sit next to me, she said, showing him her place on the sofa. Hey, I forgot everything, since you came back to us. Go, my friend, we will repair everything, but you will not move away from your wife again, will you? Say yes? Let me, my great and beautiful Claës, exercise on your noble heart this feminine influence so necessary for the happiness of unhappy artists, of great suffering men! You will rush me, you will break me if you want, but you will allow me to upset you a little for your own good. I will never abuse the power you grant me. Be famous, but be happy too. Don't prefer Chemistry to us. Listen, we will be very complacent, we will allow Science to enter with us into the sharing of your heart; but be fair, give us our half? Say, isn't my selflessness sublime?

She made Balthazar smile. With this marvelous art that women possess, she had brought the highest question into the domain of jokes where women are masters. However, although she seemed to be laughing, her heart was so violently contracted that it could hardly resume the even and gentle movement of its usual state; but seeing reborn in Balthazar's eyes the expression which charmed her, which was her glory, and revealed to her the entire action of her ancient power which she thought lost, she said to him smiling: - Believe me, Balthazar, nature made us to feel , and although you want us to be only electrical machines, your gases, your ethereal materials will never explain the gift that we possess to glimpse the future.

- Yes, he continued, by the affinities. The power of vision which makes the poet, and the power of deduction which makes the scholar, are based on invisible, intangible and imponderable affinities which the vulgar place in the class of moral phenomena, but which are physical effects. The prophet sees and deduces. Unfortunately these kinds of affinities are too rare and too little perceptible to be subjected to analysis or observation.

- This, she said, taking a kiss from him, to ward off the Chemistry that she had so unfortunately awakened, would therefore be an affinity?

- No, it's a combination: two substances of the same sign produce no activity...

- Come on, shut up, she said, you'll make me die of pain. Yes, I could not bear, dear, to see my rival even in the transports of your love.

- But, my dear life, I only think of you, my work is the glory of my family, you are at the bottom of all my hopes.

- Let's see, look at me?

This scene had made her beautiful as a young woman, and of all her person, her husband could only see her head, above a cloud of muslin and lace.

- Yes, I was very wrong to abandon you for Science. Now, when I return to my concerns, eh! well, my Pépita, you will get me out of it, I want it.

She looked down and let her hand be taken, her greatest beauty, a hand that was both powerful and delicate.

- But I want more, she said.

- You are so deliciously beautiful that you can get anything.

- I want to break your laboratory and chain your Science, she said, throwing fire out of her eyes.

- Hey! well, to hell with Chemistry.

- This moment erases all my pain, she continued. Now make me suffer if you want.

Hearing this word brought tears to Balthazar's eyes.

- But you are right, I only saw you through a veil, and I no longer heard you.

- If it had only been a question of me, she said, I would have continued to suffer in silence, without raising my voice before my sovereign; but your sons need consideration, Claës. I assure you that if you continued to dissipate your fortune in this way, even if your goals were glorious, the world would take no account of it and its blame would fall on yours. Should it not be enough for you, a man of such great stature, that your wife has drawn your attention to a danger that you did not perceive? Let's not talk about all that anymore, she said, giving him a smile and a look full of coquetry. This evening, my Claës, let us not be half happy.

The day after this evening so serious in the life of this household, Balthazar Claës, from whom Joséphine had undoubtedly obtained some promise relating to the cessation of her work, did not go up to his laboratory and remained near her throughout the day. . The next day, the family made preparations to go to the countryside where they stayed for about two months, and from where they only returned to town to take care of the party with which Claës wanted, as before, to celebrate the anniversary of his marriage .

Balthazar then obtained, day by day, proof of the disruption that his work and his carelessness had brought to his affairs. Far from widening the wound with observations, his wife always found palliatives for the ills she had suffered. Of the seven servants that Claës had, on the day he received guests for the last time, only Lemulquinier, Josette the cook, and an old maid named Martha who had not left her mistress since leaving the convent remained. ; it was therefore impossible to receive the city's high society with such a small number of servants.

Madame Claës removed all the difficulties by proposing to bring a cook from Paris, to train their gardener's son to serve, and to borrow Pierquin's servant. This way, no one would yet notice their state of embarrassment. During twenty days that the preparations lasted, Madame Claës skillfully managed to deceive her husband's idleness: sometimes she charged him with choosing the rare flowers which were to adorn the grand staircase, the gallery and the apartments; sometimes she sent him to Dunkirk to obtain some of these monstrous fish, the glory of household tables in the Nord department. A party like the one Claës gave was a capital affair, which required a multitude of care and active correspondence, in a country where the traditions of hospitality put the honor of families so much at stake, that, for masters and people, a dinner is like a victory to be won over the guests.

Oysters arrived from Ostend, grouse were requested from Scotland, fruits came from Paris; finally the smallest accessories should not belie the heritage luxury. Besides, the Claës house ball had a sort of celebrity. The capital of the Department being then in Douai, this evening opened in a way the winter season, and set the tone for all those in the country. So for fifteen years Balthazar had tried to distinguish himself, and had so well that each time he told stories succeeded twenty leagues around, and people talked about the toilets, the guests, the smallest details, new things that had been seen there, or events that had happened there. These preparations therefore prevented Claës from thinking about the search for the Absolute.By returning to domestic ideas and social life, the scholar rediscovered his self-esteem as a man, as a Fleming, as a householder, and took pleasure in astonishing the region. He wanted to give this evening a character through some new research, and he chose, among all the fantasies of luxury, the prettiest, the richest, the most fleeting, by making his house a grove of rare plants, and preparing bouquets of flowers for women.

The other details of the celebration corresponded to this incredible luxury, nothing seemed likely to detract from the effect. But the twenty-ninth bulletin and the particular news of the disasters experienced by the Grand Army in Russia and at Beresina had spread in the after-dinner period. A deep and true sadness took hold of the Douais residents, who, out of a patriotic feeling, unanimously refused to dance. Among the letters that arrived from Poland to Douai, there was one for Balthazar. Monsieur de Vierzchownia, then in Dresden where he was dying, he said, of an injury received in one of the last engagements, had wanted to bequeath to his host several ideas which, since their meeting, had occurred to him in relation to the Absolute .

This letter plunged Claës into a deep reverie which did honor to his patriotism; but his wife was not mistaken. For her, the celebration had a double mourning. This evening, during which the Claës house cast its last brilliance, therefore had something dark and sad in the midst of so much magnificence, of curiosities amassed by six generations, each of whom had had their mania, and which the Douais residents admired for the last time. times. the party had a double mourning. This evening, during which the Claës house cast its last brilliance, therefore had something dark and sad in the midst of so much magnificence, of curiosities amassed by six generations, each of whom had had their mania, and which the Douais residents admired for the last time. times. the party had a double mourning. This evening, during which the Claës house cast its last brilliance, therefore had something dark and sad in the midst of so much magnificence, of curiosities amassed by six generations, each of whom had had their mania, and which the Douais residents admired for the last time. times.

The queen of that day was Marguerite, then sixteen years old, and whom her parents introduced to the world. She attracted everyone's attention by her extreme simplicity, by her candid air and above all by her physiognomy in keeping with this home. It was indeed the young Flemish girl as the painters of the country represented her: a perfectly round and full head; brown hair, smoothed on the forehead and separated into two headbands; gray eyes, mixed with green; beautiful arms, a plumpness which did not detract from her beauty; a shy look, but on his high and flat forehead, a firmness which was hidden beneath an apparent calm and gentleness.

Without being either sad or melancholy, she seemed to have little playfulness. Reflection, order, the feeling of duty, the three main expressions of the Flemish character animated his cold face at first glance, but to which the gaze was brought back by a certain grace in the contours, and by a peaceful pride which gave guarantees of domestic happiness. By an oddity that physiologists have not yet explained, she had no features of her mother or her father, and offered a living image of her maternal ancestor, a Conyncks from Bruges, whose carefully preserved portrait attested to this resemblance.

The supper brought some life to the party. If the disasters of the army prohibited the rejoicings of dancing, everyone thought that they should not exclude the pleasures of the table. The patriots promptly withdrew. The indifferent ones remained with a few players and several friends of Claës; but, imperceptibly, this brilliantly lit house, where all the notables of Douai crowded together, fell into silence; and, around one o'clock in the morning, the gallery was deserted, the lights went out from room to room. Finally this interior courtyard, for a moment so noisy, so luminous, became black and dark again: a prophetic image of the future that awaited the family. When the Claës returned to their apartment, Balthazar made his wife read the Pole's letter, she returned it to him with a sad gesture, she foresaw the future.

Indeed, from that day on, Balthazar poorly disguised the grievance and boredom that overwhelmed him. In the morning, after the family lunch, he played for a while in the parlor with his son Jean, chatted with his two daughters who were busy sewing, embroidering, or making lace; but he soon grew tired of these games, of this talk, he seemed to fulfill them as a duty. When his wife came downstairs after dressing, she found him still sitting in the wing chair, looking at Marguerite and Félicie, without being impatient with the noise of their bobbins. When the newspaper came, he read it slowly, like a retired merchant who doesn't know how to kill time. Then he got up, looked at the sky through the windows, came back and sat down and fanned the fire dreamily, like a man from whom the tyranny of ideas deprived him of the consciousness of his movements.

Madame Claës deeply regretted her lack of education and memory. It was difficult for him to carry on an interesting conversation for long; moreover, perhaps it is impossible between two beings who have said everything to each other and who are forced to look for subjects of distraction outside the life of the heart or material life. The life of the heart has its moments, and requires oppositions; the details of material life cannot occupy for long superior minds accustomed to making decisions quickly; and the world is unbearable for loving souls. Two solitary beings who know each other entirely must therefore seek their entertainment in the highest regions of thought, for it is impossible to oppose something small to what is immense. Then, when a man has become accustomed to handling great things, he becomes unamused if he does not preserve deep in his heart this principle of candor, this carelessness which makes people of genius so gracefully childlike; but is not this childhood of the heart a very rare human phenomenon among those whose mission is to see everything, to know everything, to understand everything.

During the first months, Madame Claës extricated herself from this critical situation by incredible efforts suggested to her by love or necessity. Sometimes she wanted to learn backgammon which she had never been able to play, and, by a quite conceivable miracle, she ended up knowing it. Sometimes she interested Balthazar in the education of her daughters by asking him to direct their readings. These resources were exhausted. There came a time when Joséphine found herself before Balthazar like Madame de Maintenon in the presence of Louis XIV; but without having, to distract the dozing master, neither the pomp of power, nor the wiles of a court which knew how to play comedies like that of the embassy of the King of Siam or the Sophi of Persia.

Reduced, after having spent France, to the expedients of family sons to obtain money, the monarch no longer had either youth or success, and felt a frightful impotence in the midst of greatness; the royal maid, who knew how to rock the children, did not always know how to rock the father, who suffered for having abused things, men, life and God. But Claës suffered from too much power. Oppressed by a thought that gripped him, he dreamed of the pomp of Science, of treasures for humanity, of glory for himself. He suffered like an artist struggling with poverty, like Samson tied to the columns of the temple. The effect was the same for these two sovereigns, although the intellectual monarch was overwhelmed by his strength and the other by his weakness. What could Pépita alone do against this kind of scientific nostalgia? After having used the means offered to her by family occupations, she called on the world to her aid, by giving two COFFEES per week.

In Douai, cafes replace teas . A Café is an assembly where, for an entire evening, the guests drink the exquisite wines and liqueurs with which the cellars in this blessed country abound, eat sweets, take black coffee, or coffee with milk shaken with ice; while the women sing romances, discuss their toilets or tell each other the big things of the city. It's still the paintings of Miéris or Terburg, minus the red feathers on the pointed gray hats, minus the guitars and the beautiful sixteenth century costumes. But the efforts that Balthazar made to play his role as master of the house, his apparent affability, the fireworks of his mind, everything revealed the depth of the illness through the fatigue to which he was seen to be prey the next day.

These continual celebrations, weak palliatives, attested to the seriousness of the illness. These branches that Balthazar encountered while rolling down his precipice, delayed his fall, but made it heavier. If he never spoke of his former occupations, if he did not express regret when he felt the impossibility in which he had found himself restarting his experiments, he had sad movements, a weak voice, dejection. of a convalescent. His boredom sometimes showed through even in the way he took the thongs to carelessly build some fantastic pyramid in the fire with pieces of charcoal. When he reached evening, he felt a visible contentment; sleep undoubtedly rid him of an unwelcome thought; then, the next day, he got up melancholy when he saw a day to cross, and seemed to measure the time he had to consume, as a weary traveler contemplates a desert to cross. If Madame Claës knew the cause of this languor, she tried to ignore how widespread the devastation was.

Full of courage against the sufferings of the spirit, she was powerless against the generosity of the heart. She did not dare question Balthazar when he listened to the words of his two daughters and Jean's laughter with the air of a man occupied by an ulterior motive; but she shuddered to see him shake off his melancholy and try, through a generous feeling, to appear cheerful so as not to sadden anyone. The father's flirtations with his two daughters, or his games with Jean, dampened the eyes of Joséphine with tears as she went out to hide the emotions caused in her by a heroism whose price is well known to women, and which breaks their hearts; Madame Claës then wanted to say: - Kill me, and do what you want! Insensibly, Balthazar's eyes lost their lively fire, and took on that glaucous tint which saddens those of old men. His attention to his wife, his words, everything about him was struck with heaviness. These symptoms, which became more serious towards the end of April, frightened Madame Claës, for whom this spectacle was intolerable, and who had already reproached herself a thousand times while admiring the Flemish faith with which her husband kept his word. One day, when Balthazar seemed more weakened than he had ever been, she no longer hesitated to sacrifice everything to bring him back to life.

- My friend, she said to him, I release you from your oaths.

Balthazar looked at her in surprise.

- Do you think about your experiences? she continued.

He responded with a frighteningly quick gesture. Far from addressing him with any remonstrance, Madame Claës, who had at her leisure probed the abyss into which they were both going to fall, took his hand and shook it with a smile: - Thank you, friend, I am sure of my power , he she said, you sacrificed more to me than your life. Now the sacrifices are mine! Although I have already sold some of my diamonds, there are still left enough, adding those of my brother, to provide you with the money you need for your work. I intended these ornaments for our two daughters, but won't your glory make them more sparkling? Besides, won't you one day give them back their diamonds more beautiful?

The joy that suddenly lit up her husband's face put the height of Josephine's despair; she saw with pain that this man's passion was stronger than him. Claës had confidence in his work to walk without trembling on a path which, for his wife, was an abyss. His is faith, hers is doubt, hers is the heaviest burden: doesn't a woman always suffer for two? At that moment she liked to believe in success, wanting to justify to herself her complicity in the probable squandering of their fortune.

- The love of my whole life would not be enough to recognize your devotion, Pépita, said Claës touched.
He had barely finished these words when Marguerite and Félicie entered and wished them good morning. Madame Claës lowered her eyes, and remained speechless for a moment, in front of her children whose fortune had just been alienated for the benefit of a chimera; while her husband took them on his knees and chatted gaily with them, happy to be able to pour out the joy that oppressed him. Madame Claës then entered into her husband's ardent life. The future of her children and the consideration of their father were two motives as powerful for her as glory and science were for Claës. Also, this unfortunate woman no longer had an hour of calm, when all the diamonds of the house were sold in Paris through the abbé de Solis, his director, and the chemical manufacturers had started again their shipments.

Constantly agitated by the demon of Science and by this fury of research which devoured her husband, she lived in continual waiting, and remained as if dead for whole days, nailed to her armchair by the very violence of her desires, which, not finding, like those of Balthazar, a pasture in the work of the laboratory, tormented his soul by acting on his doubts and his fears. At times, reproaching herself for complacency for a passion whose goal was impossible and which Monsieur de Solis condemned, she got up, went to the window of the interior courtyard, and looked with terror at the laboratory fireplace. If smoke escaped, she contemplated it with despair, the most contrary ideas agitated her heart and her mind. She saw her children's fortune disappear in smoke; but she was saving their father's life: wasn't it her first duty to make him happy? This last thought calmed her for a moment.

She had obtained permission to enter the laboratory and stay there; but he soon had to give up this sad satisfaction. She experienced too much suffering there from seeing Balthazar not take care of her, and even often appearing embarrassed by his presence, she suffered from jealous impatience, from cruel desires to blow up the house; she died there of a thousand incredible illnesses. Lemulquinier then became a kind of barometer for her: if she heard him whistle, when he came and went to serve lunch or dinner, she guessed that her husband's experiences were happy, and that he entertained the hope of 'an upcoming success; Lemulquinier was gloomy, gloomy, she gave him a look of pain, Balthazar was displeased. The mistress and the valet had ended up understanding each other, despite the pride of one and the arrogant submission of the other. Weak and defenseless against the terrible prostrations of thought, this woman succumbed to these alternatives of hope and despair which, for her,were weighed down by the worries of the loving wife and the anxieties of the mother trembling for her family.

The desolate silence which once chilled her heart, she shared without noticing the gloomy air which reigned in the house, and the entire days which passed in this parlor, without a smile, often without a word. By a sad maternal foresight, she accustomed her two daughters to the work of the house, and tried to make them skilled enough in some woman's profession, so that they could make a living from it if they fell into poverty. The calm of this interior therefore covered frightful agitations. Towards the end of the summer, Balthazar had devoured the money from the diamonds sold in Paris through the old Abbé de Solis, and had fallen into debt of around twenty thousand francs with the Protez and Chiffrevilles.

In August 1813, about a year after the scene with which this story begins, if Claës had made some beautiful experiments which unfortunately he disdained, his efforts had been without result as regards the main object of his research. The day he had completed the series of his works, the feeling of his helplessness crushed him; the certainty of having unsuccessfully squandered considerable sums brought him to despair. It was a terrible disaster. He left his attic, went slowly down to the parlor, threw himself into a shepherdess among his children, and remained there for a few moments, as if dead, without answering the questions with which his wife overwhelmed him; tears overcame him, he fled to his apartment so as not to give witnesses to his pain; Joséphine followed him there and took him to her room where, alone with her, Balthazar let his despair burst forth.

These tears of a man, these words of a discouraged artist, the regrets of the father of the family had a character of terror, of tenderness, of madness which did more harm to Madame Claës than all her past pains had done to her. The victim consoled the executioner. When Balthazar said with a terrible accent of conviction: - "I am a wretch, I am gambling with the lives of my children, with yours, and to leave you happy, I must kill myself!" this word struck him to the heart, and the knowledge she had of her husband's character making her fear that he would immediately realize this wish of despair, she experienced one of those revolutions which disturb life at its source, and which was all the more fatal that Pépita contained the violent effects by affecting a deceitful calm.

- My friend, she replied, I consulted not Pierquin, whose friendship is not so great that he does not feel some secret pleasure in seeing us ruined, but an old man who, for me, shows himself good as a father. The Abbot of Solis, my confessor, gave me advice which saves us from ruin. He came to see your paintings. The price of those in the gallery can be used to pay all the sums mortgaged on your properties, and what you owe to Protez and Chiffreville, because you undoubtedly have an account to settle there?

Claës made an affirmative sign by lowering his head, whose hair had turned white.

- Monsieur de Solis knows the Happe and Duncker of Amsterdam; They are crazy about paintings, and jealous like upstarts of displaying a splendor that is only allowed in old houses, they will pay their full value for ours. Thus we will recover our income, and you will be able to take a portion of capital from the price which will approach one hundred thousand ducats to continue your experiments. Your two daughters and I will be happy with little. With time and economy, we will fill the empty frames with other paintings, and you will live happily!

Balthazar looked up at his wife with joy mixed with fear. The roles were changed. The wife became the husband's protector. This man, so tender and whose heart was so consistent with that of his Josephine, held her in his arms without noticing the horrible convulsion which made her palpitate, which shook her hair and lips with a nervous twitch.

- I didn't dare tell you that between me and the Absolute, there is barely a hair's breadth. To gasify the metals, all I need is to find a way to subject them to immense heat in an environment where the atmospheric pressure is zero, finally in an absolute vacuum.

Madame Claës could not support the selfishness of this response. She expected passionate thanks for her sacrifices, and found a chemistry problem. She abruptly left her husband, went down to the parlor, fell on her shepherdess between her two frightened daughters, and burst into tears, Marguerite and Félicie each took one of her hands, knelt on each side of her shepherdess, crying like her without knowing the cause of her grievance, and asked her several times: - What is the matter with you, mother?

- Poor children! I'm dead, I feel it.

This response made Marguerite shiver and, for the first time, she saw on her mother's face traces of the pallor particular to people with brown complexes.

- Martha, Martha! cried Félicie, come, mom needs you.

The old duenna came running from the kitchen, and seeing the green whiteness of this slightly browned and vigorously colored face: - Body of Christ! she cried in Spanish, “madam is dying.

She rushed out, told Josette to heat some water for a foot bath, and returned to her mistress.

“Don’t frighten Monsieur, don’t tell him anything, Martha,” cried Madame Claës. Poor dear girls, she added, pressing Marguerite and Félicie to her heart with a desperate movement, I wish I could live long enough to see you happy and married. Martha, she continued, told Lemulquinier to go to Monsieur de Solis, to ask him on my behalf to come here.

This love at first sight necessarily carried over into the kitchen. Josette and Martha, both devoted to Madame Claës and her daughters, were struck by the only affection they had.

These terrible words: - Madame is dying, Monsieur will have killed her, quickly take a mustard foot bath! had extracted several interjective sentences from Josette who overwhelmed Lemulquinier with them. Lemulquinier, cold and insensitive, ate seated at the corner of the table, in front of one of the windows through which daylight came from the courtyard into the kitchen, where everything was clean as in the boudoir of a little mistress.

“It had to end there,” said Josette, looking at the valet and climbing onto a stool to take a cauldron from a shelf that gleamed like gold. There is no mother who can calmly see a father having fun crushing a fortune like that of the gentleman, to make bones of pudding [The exact expression is "eau de boudin".] .
Josette, whose head wearing a round ruched cap resembled that of a German nutcracker, cast a sour look on Lemulquinier that the green color of her little scratchy eyes made almost venomous. The old valet shrugged his shoulders with a movement worthy of an impatient Mirabeau, then he shoved a slice of butter into his large mouth with appetizers sprinkled on it .

- Instead of bothering Monsieur, Madame should give him money, we would soon all be swimming in gold! It was almost as thick as a farthing that we couldn't find...

- Hey! Well, you who have twenty thousand francs invested, why don't you offer them to Monsieur? He is your master! And since you are so sure of his actions...

“You don't know anything about that, Josette, heat your water,” replied the Flemish man, interrupting the cook.

- I know enough about it to know that there were a thousand marks of silver here, that you and your master melted them, and that, if we let you go your own way, you will do so well with five under six white people, that soon there will be nothing left.

- And Monsieur, said Martha, coming up, will kill Madame to get rid of a woman who is holding him back and preventing him from swallowing everything. He is possessed by the demon! this can be seen! The least you risk by helping him, Mulquinier, is your soul, if you have one, because you are there like a piece of ice, while everything here is in desolation. These young ladies cry like Madeleines. So run and get the Abbot of Solis.

“I have business for sir, tidying up the laboratory,” said the valet. The Esquerchin district is too far from here. Go there yourself.

- Do you see that monster? Martha said. Who will give Madame a foot bath? do you want to let her die? Her head is bleeding.

- Mulquinier, said Marguerite as she arrived in the room which preceded the kitchen, on your way back from Monsieur de Solis, you will ask Monsieur Pierquin the doctor to come here quickly.

- Hey! you will go, said Josette.

- Mademoiselle, monsieur told me to tidy up his laboratory, replied Lemulquinier, turning towards the two women whom he looked at with a despotic air.

- My father, said Marguerite to Monsieur Claës who was coming down at that moment, could you not leave Mulquinier with us to send him to town?

“You will go, you naughty Chinese,” said Martha, hearing Monsieur Claës put Lemulquinier under his daughter's orders.

The lack of devotion of the valet for the house was the great subject of quarrel between these two women and Lemulquinier, whose coldness had the result of exalting the attachment of Josette and the duenna. This apparently petty struggle had a great influence on the future of this family, when, later, they needed help against misfortune. Balthazar once again became so distracted that he did not notice the sickly state in which Joséphine was. He took Jean on his knees and made him jump mechanically, thinking of the problem that he now had the possibility of solving.

He saw the foot bath brought to his wife who, not having had the strength to get up from the shepherdess where she was lying, had remained in the parlor. He even looked at his two daughters looking after their mother, without looking for the cause of their eager care. When Marguerite or Jean wanted to speak, Madame Claës demanded silence by showing them Balthazar. A similar scene was likely to make Marguerite think, who, placed between her father and mother, found herself old enough, already reasonable enough, to appreciate his conduct. There comes a time in the inner life of families when children become, either voluntarily or involuntarily, the judges of their parents. Madame Claës understood the danger of this situation.

Out of love for Balthazar, she tried to justify in Marguerite's eyes what, in the fair mind of a sixteen-year-old girl, could appear to be faults in a father. Also the deep respect that in this circumstance Madame Claës showed for Balthazar, by stepping aside before him, so as not to disturb his meditation, impressed on her children a sort of terror for their paternal majesty. But this devotion, however contagious it was, further increased the admiration that Marguerite had for her mother, to whom the daily accidents of life united her more particularly. This feeling was based on a sort of divination of suffering, the cause of which would naturally concern a young girl. No human power could prevent the occasional word that escaped either Martha or Josette from revealing to Marguerite the origin of the situation in which the house had found itself for four years.

Despite the discretion of Madame Claës, her daughter discovered imperceptibly, slowly, thread by thread, the mysterious plot of this domestic drama. Marguerite was going to be, in a given time, the active confidante of her mother, and would be at the most formidable outcome. judges. So all the care of Madame Claës was focused on Marguerite to whom she tried to communicate her devotion to Balthazar. The firmness and reason that she encountered in her daughter made her shudder at the idea of ​​​​a possible struggle between Marguerite and Balthazar, when, after her death,it would be replaced by her in the internal conduct of the house. This poor woman had come to tremble more from the consequences of her death than from her death itself. Her concern for Balthazar was evident in the resolution she had just made. By releasing her husband's property, she ensured his independence, and prevented any discussion by separating her interests from those of her children; she hoped to see him happy until the moment she closed her eyes; then she intended to transmit the delicacies of her heart to Marguerite, who would continue to play the role of an angel of love with him, exercising tutelary and conservative authority over the family.

Was it not making his love still shine from the depths of his grave on those who were dear to him?

However, she did not want to discredit the father in the eyes of the daughter by introducing him before his time to the terrors that Balthazar's scientific passion inspired in him; she studied the soul and character of Marguerite to know if this young girl would become through her - even a mother to his brothers and his sister, to his father a gentle and tender woman. Thus Madame Claës' last days were poisoned by calculations and fears that she dared not confide to anyone. Feeling herself affected in her life by this last scene, she cast her eyes even into the future; while Balthazar, henceforth unskilled in everything that concerned economy, fortune, domestic feelings, thought of finding the Absolute. The deep silence which reigned in the parlor was only interrupted by the monotonous movement of Claës' foot who continued to move it without realizing that Jean had come down. Sitting near her mother whose pale and decomposed face she contemplated, Marguerite turned from moment to moment towards her father, wondering at his insensitivity. Soon the street door sounded as it closed, and the family saw Abbot de Solis leaning on his nephew, who were both slowly crossing the courtyard.

Was it not making his love still shine from the depths of his grave on those who were dear to him? Nevertheless, she did not want to discredit the father in the eyes of the daughter by introducing him before his time to the terrors that Balthazar's scientific passion inspired in him; she studied the soul and character of Marguerite to know if this young girl would become through her - even a mother to his brothers and his sister, to his father a gentle and tender woman. Thus Madame Claës' last days were poisoned by calculations and fears that she dared not confide to anyone. Feeling herself affected in her life by this last scene, she cast her eyes even into the future;while Balthazar, henceforth unskilled in everything that concerned economy, fortune, domestic feelings, thought of finding the Absolute. The deep silence which reigned in the parlor was only interrupted by the monotonous movement of Claës' foot who continued to move it without realizing that Jean had come down.

Sitting near her mother whose pale and decomposed face she contemplated, Marguerite turned from moment to moment towards her father, wondering at his insensitivity. Soon the street door sounded as it closed, and the family saw Abbot de Solis leaning on his nephew, who were both slowly crossing the courtyard. Was it not making his love still shine from the depths of his grave on those who were dear to him? Nevertheless, she did not want to discredit the father in the eyes of the daughter by introducing him before his time to the terrors that Balthazar's scientific passion inspired in him; she studied the soul and character of Marguerite to know if this young girl would become through her - even a mother to his brothers and his sister, to his father a gentle and tender woman.

Thus Madame Claës' last days were poisoned by calculations and fears that she dared not confide to anyone. Feeling herself affected in her life by this last scene, she cast her eyes even into the future; while Balthazar, henceforth unskilled in everything that concerned economy, fortune, domestic feelings, thought of finding the Absolute. The deep silence which reigned in the parlor was only interrupted by the monotonous movement of Claës' foot who continued to move it without realizing that Jean had come down. Sitting near her mother whose pale and decomposed face she contemplated, Marguerite turned from moment to moment towards her father, wondering at his insensitivity. Soon the street door sounded as it closed, and the family saw Abbot de Solis leaning on his nephew, who were both slowly crossing the courtyard.

- Oh! here is Mr. Emmanuel, said Félicie.

-The good young man! said Madame Claës, seeing Emmanuel de Solis, “I am pleased to see him again.

Marguerite blushed when she heard the praise that escaped her mother. For two days, the appearance of this young man had awakened unknown feelings in his heart, and stirred up histherto inert thoughts in his mind. During the visit made by the confessor to his penitent, these imperceptible events took place which took up a lot of place in life, and whose results were important enough to require here the painting of the two new characters introduced into the heart of the family. Madame Claës had the principle of carrying out her devotional practices in secret. Her director, almost unknown in her home, appeared for the second time in her house; but there, as elsewhere, one must have been struck by a sort of tenderness and admiration at the sight of the uncle and nephew.

The Abbot of Solis, an old man in his eighties with silver hair, showed a decrepit face, where life seemed to have withdrawn from his eyes. He walked with difficulty, because of his two small legs, one ended in a horribly deformed foot, contained in a sort of velvet bag which obliged him to use a crutch when he did not have his arm. of his nephew. Her hunched back, her withered body presented the spectacle of a suffering and frail nature, dominated by an iron will and by a chaste religious spirit which had preserved her. This Spanish priest, remarkable for his vast knowledge, for his true piety, for his very extensive knowledge, had successively been a Dominican, grand penitentiary of Toledo, and vicar-general of the archbishopric of Mechelen. Without the French revolution, the protection of the Casa-Réal would have brought him to the highest dignities of the Church; but the grievance caused him by the death of the young duke, his pupil, disgusted him with an active life, and he devoted himself entirely to the education of his nephew, who had become an orphan very early. During the conquest of Belgium, he settled near Madame Claës.

From his youth, Abbot de Solis had professed an enthusiasm for Saint Thérèse which led him as much as the inclination of his mind towards the mystical part of Christianity. Finding, in Flanders, where Mademoiselle Bourignon, as well as the enlightened and quietist writers made the most proselytes, a flock of Catholics devoted to his beliefs, he remained there all the more willingly since he was considered a patriarch by this particular Communion where we continue to follow the doctrines of the Mystics, despite the censures which struck Fénelon and Madame Guyon. His morals were rigid, his life was exemplary, and he was said to have ecstasies. Despite the detachment that such a severe religious person had to practice for the things of this world, the affection he had for his nephew made him careful of his interests.When it came to charity, the old man called upon the faithful of his church before resorting to his own fortune, and his patriarchal authority was so well recognized, his intentions were so pure, his insight so rarely lacking that everyone honored his requests.

To have an idea of ​​​​the contrast that existed between the uncle and the nephew, we should compare the old man to one of those hollow willows which vegetate at the edge of the waters, and the young man to the wild rose laden with roses whose stem elegant and straight rises from the bosom of the mossy tree, which it seems to want to straighten.

Severely raised by his uncle, who kept him close to him as a matron keeps a virgin, Emmanuel was full of this ticklish sensitivity, this half-dreamy candor, fleeting flowers of all youth, but perennial in souls nourished by religious principles. . The old priest had suppressed the expression of voluptuous feelings in his student, preparing him for the sufferings of life through continuous work, through an almost cloistered discipline. This education, which was to deliver Emmanuel brand new to the world, and make him happy if he met his first affections well, had clothed him with an angelic purity which communicated to his person the charm with which young girls are invested.

His shy eyes, but coupled with a strong and courageous soul, cast a light which vibrated in the soul like the sound of crystal spreading its ripples in the hearing. His expressive face, although regular, was commended by great precision in the contours, by the happy arrangement of the lines, and by the deep calm that peace of the heart gives. Everything was harmonious there. Her black hair, brown eyes and eyebrows further enhanced her white complexion and bright colors. Her voice was what one would expect from such a beautiful face. Her feminine movements matched the melody of her voice, the tender clarity of her gaze. He seemed unaware of the attraction excited by the half-melancholy reserve of his attitude, the restraint of his words, and the respectful care he lavished on his uncle.

To see him studying the tortuous walk of the old abbot to end himself to his painful deviations so as not to upset them, looking in the distance at what could hurt his feet and leading him along the best path, it was impossible not to recognize in Emmanuel the generous feelings which make man a sublime creature. He seemed so great, loving his uncle without judging him, obeying him without ever questioning his orders, that everyone wanted to see a predestination in the sweet name his godmother had given him. When, either at home or among others, the old man exercised his Dominican despotism, Emmanuel would sometimes raise his head so nobly, as if to protest his strength if he found himself struggling with another man, that people of heart were moved, as artists are at the sight of a great work, because beautiful feelings ring no less loudly in the soul by their living conceptions than by the achievements of art.

Emmanuel had accompanied his uncle when he came to his penitent's house, to examine the paintings in the Claës house. Learning from Martha that the Abbot of Solis was in the gallery, Marguerite, who wanted to see this famous man, had looked for some lying pretext to join her mother, in order to satisfy her curiosity. Entering rather carelessly, affecting the lightness under which young girls hide their desires so well, she had encountered near the old man dressed in black, bent, twisted, cadaverous, the fresh, delicious face of Emmanuel. The equally young, equally naive looks of these two beings expressed the same astonishment.

Emmanuel and Marguerite had undoubtedly already seen each other in their dreams. Both lowered their eyes and then raised them again with the same movement, letting out the same confession. Marguerite took her mother's arm, spoke to her in a low voice for support, and sheltered herself, so to speak, under the maternal wing, craning her neck in a swan-like movement, to see Emmanuel again, who, for his part, remained attached to his uncle's arm. Although skillfully distributed to highlight each painting, the gallery's weak light favored those furtive glances which are the joy of shy people. No doubt each of them did not go, even in thought, to the if with which passions begin; but both of them felt that deep disturbance which moves the heart, and about which at a young age one keeps a secret to oneself, out of delicacy or modesty.

The first impression which determines the excesses of a long-repressed sensitivity, is followed in all young people by the half-stupid astonishment which the first sounds of music cause in children. Among children, some laugh and think, others only laugh after having thought; but those whose soul is called to live by poetry or love listen for a long time and ask for the melody again with a look where pleasure is already kindled, where poind [" Poind" (Balzac's usual spelling) for "point". ] the curiosity of the infinite. If we irresistibly love the places where we were, in our childhood, introduced to the beauties of harmony, if we remember with delight both the musician and even the instrument, how can we help ourselves to love the being who, the first, reveals to us the music of life? Isn't the first heart where we aspire to love like a homeland? Emmanuel and Marguerite were for each other this musical Voice which awakens a sense, this Hand which raises the cloudy sails and shows the banks bathed by the fires of the noon.When Madame Claës stopped the old man in front of a painting by Guide which represented an angel, Marguerite craned her head forward to see what Emmanuel's impression would be, and the young man looked for Marguerite to compare the mute thought of the painting to the living thought of the creature. This involuntary and delightful flattery was understood and savored.

The old abbot gravely praised this beautiful composition, and Madame Claës replied; but the two children were silent. Such was their meeting. The mysterious day in the gallery, the peace of the house, the presence of the parents, everything contributed to engrave the delicate features of this vaporous mirage further into the heart. The thousand confused thoughts that had just rained down on Marguerite calmed down, formed a limpid expansion in her soul and were tinged with a ray of light, when Emmanuel stammered a few sentences while taking leave of Madame Claës. This voice, whose fresh and velvety timbre spread incredible enchantments to the heart, completed the sudden revelation that Emmanuel had caused and which he was to fertilize for his benefit; because the man whom destiny uses to awaken love in the heart of a young girl, often ignores his work and then leaves it unfinished. Marguerite bowed, stunned, and said her farewells in a look in which regret at losing this pure and charming vision seemed to be depicted. Like the child, she still wanted her melody.

This farewell was said at the bottom of the old staircase, in front of the parlor door; and when she entered, she looked at the uncle and nephew until the street door was closed. Madame Claës had been too busy with serious subjects, agitated in her conference with her director, to have been able to examine her daughter's competence. At the moment when Monsieur de Solis and his nephew appeared for the second time, she was still too violently disturbed to notice the blush which colored Marguerite's face, revealing the fermentations of the first pleasure received in a virgin heart. When the old abbot was announced, Marguerite had resumed her work, and seemed to pay so much attention to it that she greeted the uncle and nephew without looking at them. Monsieur Claës mechanically returned the greeting given to him by the Abbot of Solis, and left the parlor like a man carried away by his occupations. The pious Dominican sat down near his penitent, giving her one of those deep looks with which he probed souls; it was enough for him to see Monsieur Claës and his wife to predict a catastrophe.

- My children, said the mother, go into the garden. Marguerite, show Emmanuel your father's tulips.

Marguerite, half ashamed, took Félicie's arm, looked at the young man who blushed and who left the parlor, grabbing Jean out of demeanor. When the four of them were in the garden, Félicie and Jean went their own way, leaving Marguerite, who, left almost alone with the young man from Solis, led him past the tulip bush invariably arranged in the same way, every year, by Lemulquinier.

- Do you like tulips, asked Marguerite after having remained for a moment in the deepest silence without Emmanuel seeming to want to break it.

- Mademoiselle, they are beautiful flowers, but to love them, you must undoubtedly have a taste for them, know how to appreciate their beauties. These flowers dazzle me. The habit of working, in the dark little room where I live, near my uncle, undoubtedly makes me prefer what is pleasant to the sight.

Saying these last words, he contemplated Marguerite, but without this look full of confused desires containing any allusion to the dull whiteness, the calm, the tender colors which made her face a flower.

- So you work a lot? replied Marguerite, leading Emmanuel onto a wooden bench with a green-painted back.

From here, she continued, you won't see the tulips so close, they will pull your eyes less. You are right, these colors flicker and hurt.

- What am I working on? replied the young man after a moment of silence during which he had leveled the sand of the path under his feet. I work on all kinds of things. My uncle wanted to make me a priest...
- Oh ! said Marguerite naively.

- I resisted, I didn't feel like I had a vocation. But it took a lot of courage for me to go against my uncle's wishes. He's so good, he loves me so much! he recently bought me a man to save me, a poor orphan, from conscription.

- What are you loving for, asked Marguerite, who seemed to want to repeat her sentence by letting out a gesture and who added: - Pardon me, sir, you must find me very curious.

- Oh ! Mademoiselle, said Emmanuel, looking at her with as much admiration as tenderness, no one, except my uncle, has asked me this question yet. I'm studying to be a teacher. What do you want? I am not rich.

If I can become principal of a college in Flanders, I will have enough to live modestly, and I will marry some simple woman whom I love. This is the life I have in perspective. Perhaps this is why I prefer a daisy that everyone passes by, in the plain of Orchies, to these beautiful tulips full of gold, purple, sapphires, emeralds which represent a sumptuous life, just as the daisy represents a sweet and patriarchal life, the life of a poor professor that I will be.

- Until now, I had always called daisies daisies, she said.

Emmanuel de Solis blushed excessively, and sought for an answer by tormenting the sand with his feet. Embarrassed to choose between all the ideas that came to him and which he found stupid, then disconcerted by the delay he took in responding, he said: - I didn't dare pronounce your name... And didn't finish.

-Teacher! she continued.

- Oh ! Miss, I will be a professor to have a position, but I will undertake works which can make me more greatly useful. I have a great taste for historical works.

- Oh!

This ah! full of secret thoughts, made the young man even more ashamed, and he began to laugh stupidly, saying: - You make me talk about myself, mademoiselle, when I should only be talking about you.

“My mother and your uncle have finished their conversation, I think,” she said, looking through the windows in the parlor.

- I found your mother very changed.

- She suffers, without wanting to tell us the cause of her suffering, and we can only suffer from her pain.

Madame Claës had in fact just finished a delicate consultation, in which it was a case of conscience, which the Abbot of Solis alone could decide. Foreseeing complete ruin, she wanted to withhold, without the knowledge of Balthazar, who cared little about his affairs, a considerable sum from the price of the paintings that Monsieur de Solis was responsible for selling in Holland, in order to hide it and save for the moment when poverty would weigh on his family. After careful deliberation and after having appreciated the circumstances in which his penitent found himself, the old Dominican approved this act of prudence. He left to take care of this dirty which had to be done secretly, so as not to harm Mr. Claës' reputation too much. The old man sent his nephew, armed with a letter of recommendation, to Amsterdam, where the young man, delighted to be of service to the Claës house, managed to sell the gallery's paintings to the famous bankers Happe and Duncker, for an ostensible sum of four -twenty-five thousand Dutch ducats, and a sum of fifteen thousand others which would be secretly given to Madame Claës. The paintings were so well known that Balthazar's response to the letter that Happe and Duncker wrote to him was enough to complete the deal.

Emmanuel de Solis was charged by Claës with receiving the price of the paintings which he sent to him secretly in order to conceal from the town of Douai knowledge of this sale. Towards the end of September, Balthazar repaid the sums that had been slow to him, cleared his possessions and resumed his work; but the Claës house had stripped itself of its finest ornament. Blinded by his passion, he did not show any regret, he believed himself so certain of being able to promptly repair this loss that he had this sale made to repurchase. A hundred painted canvases were nothing in Joséphine's eyes compared to the domestic happiness and satisfaction of her husband, she also had the gallery filled with the paintings which furnished the reception apartments, and to conceal the void they left in the front house, she changed the furnishings. His debts paid, Balthazar had around two hundred thousand francs at his disposal to restart his experiments. Father de Solis and his nephew were the custodians of the fifteen thousand ducats reserved by Madame Claës. To increase this sum, the abbot sold the ducats to which the events of the continental war had given value. One hundred and sixty-six thousand francs in crowns were buried in the cellar of the house inhabited by the Abbot of Solis.

Madame Claës had the sad happiness of seeing her husband constantly busy for almost eight months. However, too badly affected by the blow he had dealt her, she fell into a languid illness which was bound to get worse.Science devoured Balthazar so completely that neither the reverses experienced by France, nor the first fall of Napoleon, nor the return of the Bourbons drew him from his occupations; he was neither husband, nor father, nor citizen, he was a chemist. Towards the end of 1814, Madame Claës had reached a level of consumption which no longer allowed her to leave her bed. Not wanting to vegetate in her room, where she had lived happily, where the memories of her vanished happiness would have inspired involuntary comparisons with the present which would have overwhelmed her, she remained in the parlor. The doctors had favored the wish of his heart by finding this room more airy, more cheerful, and more suitable for his situation than his bedroom.

The bed where this unfortunate woman ended her life was set up between the fireplace and the window which overlooked the garden. She spent her last days there holyly, busy perfecting the souls of her two daughters on whom she took pleasure in letting the fire of her own shine forth. Weakened in its manifestations, conjugal love allowed maternal love to unfold. The mother appeared all the more charming because she had delayed being like this. Like all generous people, she experienced sublime delicacy of feeling which she took for remorse. By believing that she had taken away some tenderness due to her children, she sought to atone for her imaginary wrongs, and had attentions and care for them which made her delightful to them; she wanted, in a way, to make them live in her heart, to cover them with her failing wings and to love them in one day for all those during which she had neglected them. The suffering gave to his caresses, to his words, a creamy warmth which exhaled from his soul. His eyes caressed his children before his voice moved them with intonations full of good will, and his hand always seemed to pour blessings on them.

busy perfecting the souls of her two daughters on whom she took pleasure in letting the fire of her own shine. Weakened in its manifestations, conjugal love allowed maternal love to unfold. The mother appeared all the more charming because she had delayed being like this. Like all generous people, she experienced sublime delicacy of feeling which she took for remorse. By believing that she had taken away some tenderness due to her children, she sought to atone for her imaginary wrongs, and had attentions and care for them which made her delightful to them; she wanted, in a way, to make them live in her heart, to cover them with her failing wings and to love them in one day for all those during which she had neglected them.The suffering gave to his caresses, to his words, a creamy warmth which exhaled from his soul. His eyes caressed his children before his voice moved them with intonations full of good will, and his hand always seemed to pour blessings on them. busy perfecting the souls of her two daughters on whom she took pleasure in letting the fire of her own shine. Weakened in its manifestations, conjugal love allowed maternal love to unfold.

The mother appeared all the more charming because she had delayed being like this. Like all generous people, she experienced sublime delicacy of feeling which she took for remorse. By believing that she had taken away some tenderness due to her children, she sought to atone for her imaginary wrongs, and had attentions and care for them which made her delightful to them; she wanted, in a way, to make them live in her heart, to cover them with her failing wings and to love them in one day for all those during which she had neglected them. The suffering gave to his caresses, to his words, a creamy warmth which exhaled from his soul. His eyes caressed his children before his voice moved them with intonations full of good will, and his hand always seemed to pour blessings on them.

If after resuming his luxury habits, the Claës house soon no longer received anyone, if its isolation became more complete again, if Balthazar no longer gave a party on the anniversary of his wedding, the town of Douai was not surprised. First the illness of Madame Claës seemed a sufficient reason for this change, then the payment of debts stopped the course of slander, finally the political vicissitudes to which Flanders was subjected, the Hundred Days' War, the foreign occupation made us completely forget the chemist . During these two years, the city was so often on the point of being taken, so consecutively occupied either by the French or by the enemies; so many foreigners came there, so many country people took refuge there, there were so many interests raised, so many existences called into question, so many movements and misfortunes, that everyone could only think of themselves. . The abbot of Solis and his nephew, the two Pierquin brothers were the only people who came to visit Madame Claës; the winter of 1814 to 1815 was the most painful of agonies for her.

Her husband rarely came to see her, he stayed with her well after dinner for a few hours, but as she no longer had the strength to carry on a long conversation, he would say one or two eternally similar sentences, sit down, remained silent and allowed a terrible silence to reign in the visiting room. This monotony was diversified on the days when the Abbot of Solis and his nephew spent the evening at the Claës house. While the old abbot was playing backgammon with Balthazar, Marguerite was chatting with Emmanuel, near her mother's bed, who smiled at their innocent joys without showing how painful and good the fresh breeze of these virginals was on her bruised soul. loves overflowing in waves and words to words. The inflection of voice which charmed these two children broke her heart, a surprised glance of intelligence between them threw her, almost dead, into memories of her young and happy hours which brought back to the present all its bitterness.

Emmanuel and Marguerite had a delicacy which made them repress the delicious childishness of love so as not to offend a suffering woman whose wounds they instinctively guessed. No one has yet noticed that feelings have a life of their own, a nature which proceeds from the circumstances in which they are born; they keep both the physiognomy of the places where they grew up and the imprint of the ideas which influenced their development. There are ardently conceived passions which remain ardent like that of Madame Claës for her husband; then there are feelings to which everything smiles, which retain a morning joy, their harvests of joy never go without laughter and celebrations;but we also encounter loves fatally framed by melancholy or surrounded by misfortune, whose pleasures are painful, costly, loaded with fears, poisoned by remorse or full of despair. The love buried in the hearts of Emmanuel and Marguerite without either of them yet understanding that love was leaving, this feeling hatched under the dark vault of the Claës gallery, in front of a severe old abbot, in a moment of silence and calm; this serious and discreet love, but fertile in soft nuances, in secret pleasures, savored like grapes stolen from the corner of a vineyard, suffered the brown color, the gray tints which decorated it in its first hours. By not daring to engage in any lively demonstration in front of this bed of pain, these two children increased their enjoyments without knowing it through a concentration which impressed them deep in their hearts. It was care given to the sick woman, and in which Emmanuel liked to participate, happy to be able to unite with Marguerite by making himself this mother's son in advance.

A melancholy thank you replaced the honeyed language of lovers on the young girl's lips. The sighs of their hearts, filled with joy by some glance exchanged, were little different from the sighs torn away by the spectacle of maternal pain. Their good little moments of indirect confessions, of unfinished promises, of compressed fulfillment could be compared to these allegories painted by Raphael on black backgrounds. They both had a certainty that they did not admit to themselves; they knew the sun was above them, but they did not know what wind would chase away the big black clouds piled up on their heads; they doubted the future, and fearing always being escorted by suffering, they remained timidly in the shadows of this twilight, without daring to say to themselves: and in which Emmanuel liked to participate, happy to be able to unite with Marguerite by making himself this mother's son in advance. A melancholy thank you replaced the honeyed language of lovers on the young girl's lips.

The sighs of their hearts, filled with joy by some glance exchanged, were little different from the sighs torn away by the spectacle of maternal pain. Their good little moments of indirect confessions, of unfinished promises, of compressed fulfillment could be compared to these allegories painted by Raphael on black backgrounds. They both had a certainty that they did not admit to themselves; they knew the sun was above them, but they did not know what wind would chase away the big black clouds piled up on their heads; they doubted the future, and fearing always being escorted by suffering, they remained timidly in the shadows of this twilight, without daring to say to themselves:and in which Emmanuel liked to participate, happy to be able to unite with Marguerite by making himself this mother's son in advance. A melancholy thank you replaced the honeyed language of lovers on the young girl's lips.

The sighs of their hearts, filled with joy by some glance exchanged, were little different from the sighs torn away by the spectacle of maternal pain. Their good little moments of indirect confessions, of unfinished promises, of compressed fulfillment could be compared to these allegories painted by Raphael on black backgrounds. They both had a certainty that they did not admit to themselves; they knew the sun was above them, but they did not know what wind would chase away the big black clouds piled up on their heads; they doubted the future, and fearing always being escorted by suffering, they remained timidly in the shadows of this twilight, without daring to say to themselves: Nevertheless, the tenderness that Madame Claës showed to her children nobly hid everything she kept silent about herself. His children caused him neither thrill nor terror, they were his consolation, but they were not his life; she lived through them, she died for Balthazar. However painful the presence of her husband, pensive for hours on end, and who from time to time cast a monotonous look at her, was for her, she only forgot her pain during these cruel moments. Balthazar's indifference for this dying woman would have seemed criminal to some stranger who witnessed it; but Madame Claës and her daughters had become accustomed to it, they knew the heart of this man, and absolved him.

If, during the day, Madame Claës suffered some dangerous crisis, if she felt worse, if she seemed close to dying, Claës was the only one in the house and in the town who ignored it; Lemulquinier, his valet, knew it; but neither his daughters, to whom their mother imposed silence, nor his wife taught him the dangers that a creature once so ardently loved ran. When his footsteps sounded in the gallery as he came to dinner, Madame Claës was happy, she went to see him, she gathered her strength to taste this joy. At the moment he entered, this pale, half-dead woman colored brightly, regained a semblance of health, the scholar came near the bed, took her hand, and saw her in a false appearance; for him alone, she was good. When he asked her: - “My dear wife, how are you today?” she replied: “Better, my friend!” and made this distracted man believe that the next day she would be up and recovered. Balthazar's concern was so great that he accepted the illness from which his wife was dying as a simple indisposition. Moribund to everyone, she was alive to him.Will we end the day together?

A complete separation between these spouses was the result of that year. Claës slept far from his wife, got up in the morning, and locked himself in his laboratory or his study; by only seeing her in the presence of her daughters or the two or three friends who came to visit her, he became unaccustomed to her. These two beings, once accustomed to thinking together, only had, from time to time, these moments of communication, of abandonment, of effusion which constitute the life of the heart, and there came a moment when these rare pleasures ceased. . Physical suffering came to the aid of this poor woman, and helped her to bear an emptiness, a separation which would have killed her, had she been alive. She experienced such severe pain that, sometimes, she was happy not to witness it to the one she still loved.

She contemplated Balthazar for part of the evening, and knowing he was happy as he wanted to be, she embraced the happiness she had given him. This frail enjoyment was enough for her, she no longer wondered if she was loved, she tried to believe it, and slipped on this layer of ice without daring to press, fearing to break it and drown her heart in a horrible nothingness. As no event disturbed this calm, and as the illness which slowly devoured Madame Claës contributed to this interior peace, by maintaining marital affection in a passive state, it was easy to reach the first days of the marriage in this gloomy state. year 1816.

Towards the end of February, Pierquin the notary dealt the blow which was to throw into the grave an angelic woman whose soul, said the Abbot of Solis, was almost without sin.

- Madam, he said in her ear, seizing a moment when his daughters could not hear their conversation, Monsieur Claës has instructed me to borrow three hundred thousand francs on his properties, take precautions for the fortune of your children.

Madame Claës clapped her hands, raised her eyes to the ceiling, and thanked the notary with a benevolent bow of the head and a sad smile which moved him. This sentence was a stab that killed Pépita. During that day she had indulged in sad reflections which had swelled her heart, and found herself in one of those situations where the traveler, no longer having his balance, rolls pushed by a light stone to the bottom of the precipice. whom he worked alongside for a long time and courageously. When the notary had left, Madame Claës had Marguerite give her everything she needed to write, gathered her strength and occupied herself for a few moments with a testamentary writing. She stopped several times to look at her daughter.

The time for confession had come. In running the house since her mother's illness, Marguerite had so fully realized the dying woman's hopes that Madame Claës cast a glance at the future of her family without despair, seeing herself come back to life in this loving and strong angel. . No doubt these two women had a presentiment of mutual and sad confidences to be made, the girl looked at her mother as soon as her mother looked at her, and both had tears rolling in their eyes. Several times, Marguerite, when Madame Claës was resting, said: - My mother? as if to speak; then she stopped, as if suffocated, without her mother, too busy with her last thoughts, asking her to take this question into account. Finally, Madame Claës wanted to seal her letter; Marguerite, who was holding a candle for him, with Drew discreetly so as not to see the address.

- You can read, my child! his mother said to him in a heartbreaking tone.

Marguerite saw her mother writing these words: To my daughter Marguerite .

We will talk when I have stayed, she added, putting the letter under her bedside.

Then she fell onto her pillow as if exhausted by the effort she had just made and slept for a few hours.

When she woke up, her two daughters and her two sons were kneeling before her bed, praying fervently. This day was a Thursday. Gabriel and Jean had just arrived from college, brought by Emmanuel de Solis, who had been appointed professor of history and philosophy six months ago.

- Dear children, we must say goodbye, she cried. You are not abandoning me! and the one that...

She didn't finish.

- Mr. Emmanuel, said Marguerite, seeing her mother turn pale, go tell my father that mother is feeling worse.

Young Solis went up to the laboratory, and after having obtained from Lemulquinier that Balthazar would come and speak to him, the latter responded to the young man's urgent request: - I'm going.

- My friend, said Madame Claës to Emmanuel when he returned, take my two sons and go find your uncle. It is necessary, I believe, to give me the last sacraments, I would like to receive them from his hand.

When she found herself alone with her two daughters, she made a sign to Marguerite who, understanding her mother, sent Félicie away.

- I had to speak to you too, my dear mother, said Marguerite who, not believing her mother as bad as she was, widened the wound made by Pierquin. For ten days I have had no money for household expenses, and I owe the servants six months' wages. I've already wanted to ask my father for money twice, and I didn't dare. You don't know! the paintings from the gallery and the cellar were sold.

“He hasn’t said a word to me about all that,” cried Madame Claës. Oh my God ! you call me back to you in time. My poor children, what will become of you? She made an ardent prayer which colored her eyes with the fires of repentance. Marguerite, she continued, pulling the letter from under her bedside, here is a writing that you will only open and read at the moment when, after my death, you will be in the greatest distress, that is to say if you lacked bread here . My dear Marguerite, love your father, but take care of your sister and your brothers. In a few days, in a few hours maybe! you are going to be the head of the house. Be thrifty. If you find yourself opposed to the wishes of your father, and the case could happen, since he has spent large sums in search of a secret the discovery of which must be the object of immense glory and fortune, he will have no doubt need money , perhaps he will ask you for it, then display all the tenderness of a daughter, and know how to reconcile the interests of which you will be the sole protector with what you owe to a father, to a great man who sacrifices his happiness, his life, for the illustration of his family; he could only be wrong in form, his intentions will always be noble, he is so excellent, his heart is full of love; you will see him again as good and affectionate! I had to say these words to you on the edge of the grave, Marguerite. If you want to ease the pain of my death, you will promise me, my child, to replace me with your father, not to cause him grievance; Don't blame him for anything, don't judge him! Finally, be a gentle and complacent mediator until, his work finished, he once again becomes the head of his family.

- I understand you, my dear mother, said Marguerite, kissing the burning eyes of the dying woman, and I will do as you please.

- Don't get married, my angel, replied Madame Claës, until Gabriel can succeed you in the government of business and the house. Your husband, if you married, might not share your feelings, would cause trouble in the family and torment your father.

Marguerite looked at her mother and said: - Don't you have any other recommendations to make to me regarding my marriage?

- Would you hesitate, my dear child? said the dying woman with fear.

- No, she replied, I promised to obey you.

- Poor girl, I did not know how to sacrifice myself for you, added the mother, shedding hot tears, and I ask you to sacrifice yourself for everyone. Happiness makes you selfish. Yes, Marguerite, I was weak because I was happy. Be strong, keep your sanity for those who won't have anything here. Make sure that your brothers and your sister never accuse me. Love your father, but don't upset him... too much.

She leaned her head on her pillow and didn't say another word, her strength had betrayed her. The inner battle between the Woman and the Mother had been too violent. A few moments later, the clergy came, preceded by the Abbot of Solis, and the parlor was filled with the people of the house. When the ceremony began, Madame Claës, whom her confessor had awakened, looked at all the people around her, and did not see Balthazar there.

-And sir? she says.

This word, which summed up both his life and his death, was pronounced in such a lamentable tone that it caused a horrible shudder in the assembly. Despite her great age, Martha darted like an arrow, climbed the stairs and knocked hard on the laboratory door.

“Sir, madame is dying, and we are waiting for you to administer her,” she cried with the violence of indignation.

- I'm going down, replied Balthazar.

Lemulquinier came a moment later, saying that his master was following him. Madame Claës kept looking at the door of the parlor, but her husband did not appear until the ceremony was over. Abbot de Solis and the children surrounded the dying woman's bedside. Seeing her husband enter, Joséphine blushed, and a few tears rolled down her cheeks.

- You were probably going to decompose the nitrogen , she said to him with an angelic sweetness that made those present shiver.

- It's done, he exclaimed with a joyful air, Nitrogen contains oxygen and a substance of the nature of imponderables which is probably the principle of...

Murmurs of horror arose which interrupted him and restored his presence of mind.

-What did they tell me? he continued. So you're worse off? What happened?

- It happens, sir, said the indignant Abbot de Solis in his ear, that your wife is dying and that you have killed her.

Without waiting for a response, Abbot de Solis took Emmanuel's arm and went out followed by the children who led him into the courtyard. Balthazar stood as if struck by lightning and looked at his wife, letting a few tears fall.

- You die and I killed you, he cried. So what does he say?

- My friend, she continued, I only lived through your love, and you unknowingly took my life away from me.

“Leave us,” Claës said to his children as they entered. Have I stopped loving you for a single moment? he continued, sitting down at his wife's bedside and taking her hands which he kissed.

- My friend, I won't blame you for anything. You made me happy, too happy, I couldn't bear to compare the first days of our marriage which were full, and these last days during which you were no longer yourself and which were empty. The life of the heart, like physical life, has its actions. For six years, you have been dead to love, to family, to everything that made us happy. I will not speak to you of the felicities which are the prerogative of youth, they must cease in the latter season of life; but they leave fruits on which souls nourish themselves, boundless confidence, sweet habits; hey! well, you have stolen from me these treasures of our age. I'm leaving on time: we didn't live together in any way, you hid your thoughts and actions from me. How did you come to fear me?

Have I ever addressed you a word, a look, a gesture full of blame? Hey! Well, you sold your last paintings, you even sold the wines in your cellar, and you are borrowing again from your assets without having said a word to me. Ah! I will therefore leave life, disgusted with life. If you make mistakes, if you blind yourself by pursuing the impossible, have I not shown you that there is enough love in me to find sweetness in sharing your faults, in always walking near you, would you have led me into the paths of crime . You loved me too well: there is my glory and there my pain. My illness has lasted a long time, Balthazar! it began the day that in this place where I am going to expire you proved to me that you belonged more to Science than to the Family. Here is your wife dead and your own fortune consumed. Your fortune and your wife belonged to you, you could dispose of them; but the day I am no more, my fortune will be that of your children, and you will not be able to take any of it. So what will you become? Now I owe you the truth, the dying sees far! where will henceforth be the counterweight that will balance the accursed passion with which you have made your life? If you sacrificed me, your children will be very light before you, because I owe you this justice to admit that you preferred me to everything. Two million and six years of work have been thrown into this abyss, and you have found nothing...

At these words, Claës put his whitened head in his hands and hid his face.

- You will find nothing but shame for yourself, misery for your children, replied the dying woman.

Already you are called Claës-the alchemist in derision, later it will be Claës-the madman! I believe in you. I know you are great, learned, full of genius; but to the vulgar, genius resembles madness. Glory is the sun of the dead; during your lifetime, you will be unhappy like everything that was great, and you will ruin your children. I am leaving without having enjoyed your fame, which would have consoled me for having lost happiness. Hey! well, my dear Balthazar, to make this death less bitter for me, I would have to be certain that our children will have a piece of bread; but nothing, not even you, could calm my worries...

- I swear, said Claës, to...

“Do not swear, my friend, so as not to break your oaths,” she said, interrupting him. You owed us your protection, it has failed us for almost seven years. Science is your life. A great man cannot have a wife or children. Go alone in your ways of misery! your virtues are not those of vulgar people, you belong to the world, you could belong neither to a woman nor to a family. You dry up the earth around you like great trees! I, poor plant, could not rise high enough, I expire half of your life. I was waiting for this last day to tell you these horrible thoughts, which I only discovered in the flashes of pain and despair. Spare my children! May this word resonate in your heart! I will tell you until my last breath.

The woman is dead, you see? you stripped her slowly and gradually of her feelings, of her pleasures.

Alas! without this cruel care that you involuntarily took, would I have lived so long? But these poor children did not abandon me! they grew up near my pains, the mother survived. Save, spare our children.

“Lemulquinier,” cried Balthazar in a thunderous voice. The old servant suddenly appeared. - Go and destroy everything up there, machines, devices; do it carefully, but break everything. I renounce science! he said to his wife.

“It's too late,” she added, looking at Lemulquinier. Marguerite, she cried, feeling like she was dying. Marguerite appeared on the threshold of the door, and uttered a piercing cry when she saw her mother's eyes turning pale. -Daisy! repeated the dying woman.

This last exclamation contained such a violent appeal to her daughter, it invested her with so much authority, that this cry was quite a testament. The frightened family came running, and saw Madame Claës expire, having exhausted the last strength of her life in her conversation with her husband. Balthazar and Marguerite, motionless, she at the bedside, he at the foot of the bed, could not believe in the death of this woman whose virtues and inexhaustible tenderness were known only to them. The father and daughter exchanged a look heavy with thoughts: the daughter was judging her father, the father was already trembling to find in his daughter the instrument of revenge. Although the memories of love with which his wife had filled his life returned in droves to besiege his memory and gave to the last words of the dead woman a holy authority which should always make him listen to her voice, Balthazar doubted his heart, which was too weak against his genius; then he heard a terrible roar of passion which denied him the strength of his repentance, and made him afraid of himself. When this woman had disappeared, everyone understood that the Claës house had a soul and that this soul was no more. Also the pain was so great in the family that the parlor where the noble Josephine seemed to come to life remained closed, no one had the courage to enter.

Society does not practice any of the virtues that it asks of men, it commits crimes at all times, but it commits them in words; she prepares bad actions through jokes, just as she degrades beauty through ridicule, she mocks sons who cry too much for their fathers, she anathematizes those who do not cry for them enough; then she has fun, She! to weigh the corpses before they are cooled. The evening of the day on which Madame Claës died, this woman's friends threw some flowers on her grave between two games of whist, paid homage to her fine qualities by looking for heart or spade.

Then, after a few tearful sentences which are the A, bé, bi, bo, bu of collective pain, and which are pronounced with the same intonations, without more or less feeling, in all the cities of France and at all times, each person quantified the product of this succession. Pierquin was the first to point out to those who were discussing this event that the death of this excellent woman was a good thing for her, her husband made her too unhappy; but that it was, for his children, an even greater good; she would not have known how to refuse her fortune to her husband whom she adored, whereas today Claës could no longer dispose of it.

And everyone had to estimate the estate of poor Madame Claës, to calculate her savings (had she made anything? Had she not made anything?), to inventory her jewelry, to display her wardrobe, to searching her drawers, while the grieving family wept and prayed around the funeral bed. With the glance of a Juror-weigher of fortunes, Pierquin calculated that Madame Claës's assets, to use her expression, could still be found and must amount to a sum of approximately fifteen hundred thousand francs represented either by the forest of Waignies whose woods had for twelve years acquired an enormous price, and he counted the high forests, the baliveaux, the ancients, the moderns, or by the goods of Balthazar who was still good to fillhis children, if the values ​​​​of the liquidation did not acquit him towards them. Mademoiselle Claës was therefore, to always speak her slang, a girl worth four hundred thousand francs. - “But if she does not marry promptly,” he added, “which would emancipate her, and make it possible to licit the forest of Waignies, to liquidate the miners' share, and to use it in such a way that the father does not touch it, Monsieur Claës is the man to ruin his children." Everyone looked to see which young people in the province were capable of claiming the hand of Mademoiselle Claës, but no one did the notary the gallantry to suppose so. worthy. The notary found reasons to reject each of the proposed parties as unworthy of Marguerite.

The interlocutors looked at each other smiling, and took pleasure in prolonging this provincial mischief. Pierquin had already seen in the death of Madame Claës an event favorable to his pretensions, and he was already cutting up this corpse for his own benefit.

- That good woman there, he said to himself as he went home to bed, was proud as a peacock, and would never have given me her daughter. Hey! Hey! why shouldn't I maneuver now so as to marry her? Father Claës is a man drunk on carbon who no longer cares about his children; If I ask him for his daughter, after having convinced Marguerite of the urgency of getting married to save the fortunes of his brothers and his sister, he will be happy to get rid of a child who can bother him.

He fell asleep glimpsing the matrimonial beauties of the contract, meditating on all the advantages this affair offered him, and the guarantees he found for his happiness in the person whose husband he became; It was difficult to meet in the province a young person more delicately beautiful and better behaved than Marguerite was. Her modesty, her grace were comparable to those of the pretty flower that Emmanuel had not dared to name in front of her, fearing to thus discover the secret wishes of her heart. Her feelings were proud, her principles were religious, she must be a chaste wife; but it not only flattered the vanity that every man has more or less in the choice of a wife, it also satisfied the pride of the notary by the immense consideration which his family, doubly noble, enjoyed in Flanders, and which would share her husband . The next day, Pierquin took a few thousand franc notes from his cash register and came to offer them to Balthazar in a friendly manner, in order to avoid financial problems for him at a time when he was in pain. Touched by this delicate attention, Balthazar would undoubtedly praise the heart and person of the notary to his daughter.

It didn't happen. Monsieur Claës and his daughter found this action very simple, and their suffering was too exclusive for them to think of Pierquin. Indeed, Balthazar's despair was so great that the people disposed to blame his conduct forgave him, less in the name of Science which could excuse him, than in favor of his regrets which did not repair the evil. The world is content with grimaces, it pays for what it gives, without verifying its validity; for him, true pain is a spectacle, a sort of enjoyment which disposes him to absolve everyone, even a criminal; in his greed for emotions, he acquits without discernment both the one who makes him laugh, and the one who makes him cry, without asking them for the means.
Marguerite had completed her nineteenth year when her father handed over to her the government of the house where her authority was piously recognized by her sister and her two brothers to whom, during the last moments of her life, Madame Claës had recommended to obey their eldest . Mourning enhanced his white freshness, just as sadness highlighted his gentleness and patience. From the first days, she provided proof of this feminine courage, of this constant serenity that the angels responsible for spreading peace must have, by touching suffering hearts with their green palm. But if she got used, through premature the understanding of her duties, to hide her pains, they were only more acute; his calm exterior was at odds with the depth of his sensations; and she was destined to experience early those terrible explosions of feeling that the heart is not always enough to contain; her father had to constantly keep her pressed between the generosity natural to young souls and the voice of an imperative necessity. The calculations that gripped her the very day after her mother's death brought her into conflict with the interests of life, at a time when young girls only conceived of her pleasures.

Awful education of suffering which has never failed angelic natures! Love which is based on money and vanity forms the most stubborn of passions, Pierquin did not want to delay in circumventing the heiress.

A few days after the onset of mourning he sought the opportunity to speak to Marguerite, and began his operations with a skill which could have seduced her; but love had cast into his soul a clairvoyance which prevented him from allowing himself to be taken in by exteriors all the more favorable to sentimental disappointments because in this circumstance Pierquin displayed the kindness which was specific to him, the kindness of the notary who thinks he is loving when he saves money. Strengthened by his dubious parentage, the constant habit he had of doing business and sharing the secrets of this family, sure of the esteem and friendship of his father, well served by the carelessness of a scholar who had no definite plan for the establishment of his daughter, and not supposing that Marguerite could have a predilection, he let her judge a pursuit which only played on passion by the alliance of the most odious calculations with young souls and which he did not know how to veil. It was he who showed himself to be naive, it was she who resorted to dissimulation, precisely because he believed he was acting against a defenseless girl, and because he misunderstood the privileges of weakness.

- My dear cousin, he said to Marguerite with whom he was walking along the paths of the little garden, you know my heart and you know how much I am inclined to respect the painful feelings which affect you at this moment. My soul is too sensitive to be a notary, I only live by the heart and I am obliged to constantly concern myself with the interests of others, when I would like to indulge in the sweet emotions which make life happy. Also suffered -I am very much forced to speak to you about projects discordant with the state of your soul, but it is necessary. I've been thinking about you a lot over the past few days. I have just recognized that, by a singular fatality, the fortunes of your brothers and your sister, yours even, are in danger. Do you want to save your family from complete ruin?

- What should be done? she said, half frightened by these words.

“Marry you,” replied Pierquin.

“I will not marry,” she cried.

- You will marry, continued the notary, when you have thought carefully about the critical situation in which you find yourself...

- How can my marriage save...

“This is where I was waiting for you, my cousin,” he said, interrupting her. Marriage emancipates!
- Why would they emancipate me? said Marguerite.

“To put you in possession, my dear little cousin,” said the notary with an air of triumph. In this instance, you take your quarter from your mother's fortune. To give it to you, it must be liquidated;

Now, to liquidate it, will it not be necessary to licit the forest of Waignies? This established, all the values ​​​​of the inheritance will be capitalized, and your father will be required, as guardian, to invest the share of your proud parents and your sister, so that Chemistry will no longer be able to touch it.

- Otherwise, what would happen? she asked.

- But, said the notary, your father will administer your property. If he started wanting to make gold again, he could sell the Waignies woods and leave you naked like little Saint John. The Waignies forest is currently worth nearly fourteen hundred thousand francs; but, today for tomorrow, your father clear-cuts it, your thirteen hundred acres will not be worth three hundred thousand francs. Is it not better to avoid this almost certain danger, by making the case for sharing happen today through your emancipation? You will thus save all the fellings of the forest which your father would later dispose of to your detriment. At this moment when Chemistry is sleeping, it will necessarily place the liquidation values ​​on the Ledger. The funds are at fifty-nine, these dear children will therefore have nearly five thousand pounds income for fifty thousand francs; and given that we cannot dispose of the capital belonging to minors, when they come of age your brothers and your sister will see their fortune doubled. whereas, otherwise, my goodness... There you go... Besides, your father damaged your mother's property, we will know the deficit through an inventory. If he is a remainderman, you will take a mortgage on his property, and you will already save something.

- Fi! said Marguerite, that would outrage my father. My mother's last words have not been spoken for such a short time that I cannot remember them. My father is incapable of robbing his children, she said, letting out tears of pain. You don't know him, Mr. Pierquin.

- But if your father, my dear cousin, goes back to Chemistry, he...

- We would be ruined, wouldn't we?

- Oh ! but completely ruined! Believe me, Marguerite, he said, taking her hand and placing it on his heart, I would be failing in my duties if I did not insist. Your interest alone...

- Sir, said Marguerite with a cold air, withdrawing his hand, the interest of course of my family requires that I not marry. My mother thought so.

- Cousin, he cried with the conviction of a man of money who saw the loss of a fortune, you committed suicide, you threw your mother's estate into the water. Hey! well, I will have the devotion of the excessive friendship that I have for you! You don't know how much I love you, I've adored you since the day I saw you at the last ball your father gave! you were lovely. You can trust the voice of the heart when it speaks of interest, my dear Marguerite. He paused. Yes, we will suit a family council and we will emancipate you without consulting you.

- But what does it mean to be emancipated?

- It's enjoying your rights.

- If I can be emancipated without getting married, why do you want me to get married? And with who?
Pierquin tried to look at his cousin with a tender air, but this expression contrasted so well with the rigidity of his eyes accustomed to talking about money, that Marguerite thought she saw calculation in this improvised tenderness.

- You would have married the person you liked... in the city... he continued. A husband is essential to you, even as a business. You will be in the presence of your father. Alone, will you resist him?

- Yes, sir, I will know how to defend my brothers and my sister, when the time comes.

- Plague, the gossip! Pierquin said to himself. No, you won't be able to resist him, he continued aloud.

- Let's break up on this subject, she said.

- Farewell, cousin, I will try to serve you in spite of yourself, and I will prove how much I love you by protecting you, in spite of yourself, against a misfortune that everyone in town foresees.

- Thank you for your interest in me; but I beg you not to propose or undertake anything which could cause the slightest distress to my father.

Marguerite remained pensive as she saw Pierquin walk away, she compared his metallic voice, his manners which had only the suppleness of springs, his looks which represented more servility than gentleness, to the melodiously silent poems of which Emmanuel's feelings were covered. Whatever we do, whatever we say, there is an admirable magnetism whose effects never disappoint. The sound of the voice, the look, the passionate gestures of the loving man can be imitated, a young girl can be deceived by a skillful actor; but to succeed, shouldn't he be alone? If this young girl has a soul close to her that vibrates in unison with her feelings, has she not soon recognized the expressions of true love?

Emmanuel found himself at this moment, like Marguerite, under the influence of the clouds which, since their meeting, had inevitably formed a dark atmosphere above their heads, and which hid from them the view of the blue sky of love. He had, for his Chosen One, this idolatry which the lack of hope makes so sweet and so mysterious in its pious manifestations. Socially placed too far from Mademoiselle Claës due to his lack of wealth and having only a beautiful name to offer her, he saw no chance of being accepted as her husband. He had always waited for some encouragement that Marguerite had refused to give under the failing eyes of a dying woman. Equally pure, they had not yet said a single word of love to each other.

Their joys had been the selfish joys that the unfortunate are forced to enjoy alone. They had shuddered separately, although they were agitated by a ray of the same hope. They seemed afraid of themselves, already feeling too good about each other. So Emmanuel trembled as he touched the hand of the sovereign for whom he had made a sanctuary in his heart. The most carefree contact would have developed too irritating pleasures in him, he would no longer have been the master of his unleashed senses. But although they had granted each other none of the frail and immense, the innocent and serious testimonies that the most timid lovers allow themselves, they had nevertheless lodged themselves so well in each other's hearts that both of them knew how ready to make the greatest sacrifices , the only pleasures they could taste. Since the death of Madame Claës, their secret love had been suffocated under the veil of mourning. From brown, the hues of the sphere where they lived had become black, and the light there was extinguished in tears.

Marguerite's reserve almost changed into coldness, because she had to keep the oath demanded by her mother; and becoming freer than before, she became more rigid.Emmanuel had embraced the mourning of his beloved, understanding that the slightest wish of love, the simplest request would be a breach of the laws of the heart. This great love was therefore more hidden than it had ever been. These two tender souls always made the same sound; but separated by pain, as they had been by the timidity of youth and by the respect due to the sufferings of the dead, they still clung to the magnificent language of the eyes, to the mute eloquence of devoted actions, to a continual coherence, sublime harmonies of youth, first steps of love in childhood. Emmanuel came every morning to hear news about Claës and Marguerite, but he only entered the dining room when he brought a letter from Gabriel, or when Balthazar asked him to come in. His first glance at the young girl told him a thousand sympathetic thoughts: he suffered from the discretion imposed on him by conventions, he had not left her, he shared her sadness, finally he spread the dew of his tears into the heart of her friend , with a look unaltered by any ulterior motive. This good young man lived so well in the present, he was so attached to a happiness that he believed to be fleeting, that Marguerite sometimes reproached herself for not generously extending her hand to him, saying: - Let's be friends!

Pierquin continued his obsessions with that stubbornness which is the thoughtless patience of fools. He judged Marguerite according to the ordinary rules used by the multitude to appreciate women. He believed that the words marriage, liberty, fortune, which he had thrown into his ear would germinate in his soul, make a desire flourish there from which he would profit, and he imagined that his coldness was dissimulation. But although he surrounded him with gallant care and attention, he poorly concealed the despotic manners of a man accustomed to deciding the most important questions relating to the life of families. To console her, he spoke of those commonplaces, familiar to people of his profession, which pass in spirals over pain, and leave a trail of dry words which deflower his holiness.

His tenderness was pampering. He left his feigned melancholy at the door by picking up his double shoes, or his umbrella. He used the tone that his long familiarity authorized him to take, as an instrument to gain greater influence in the heart of the family, to persuade Marguerite to a marriage proclaimed in advance throughout the city. True, devoted, respectful love therefore formed a striking contrast with selfish and calculated love. Everything was the same in these two men. One feigned a passion and armed himself with the slightest advantages in order to be able to marry Marguerite; the other hid his love, and trembled to reveal his devotion. Some time after her mother's death, and on the same day, Marguerite was able to compare the only two men she was able to judge. Until then, the solitude to which she had been condemned had not allowed her to see the world, and the situation in which she found herself left no access to people who could think of asking her to marry him.

One day, after lunch, on one of the first beautiful mornings of April, Emmanuel came just as Monsieur Claës was going out. Balthazar found the appearance of his house so difficult to bear that he went for a walk along the ramparts for part of the day. Emmanuel wanted to follow Balthazar, he hesitated, seemed to draw strength from within himself, looked at Marguerite and stayed. Marguerite guessed that the professor wanted to talk to her and suggested that she come to the garden. She sent her sister Félicie back to Martha who was working in the anteroom, located on the first floor; then she went and placed herself on a bench where she could be seen by her sister and the old duenna.

- Monsieur Claës is as absorbed by grievance as he was by his scholarly research, said the young man when he saw Balthazar walking slowly in the courtyard. Everyone in town complains about him; he walks like a man who no longer has his ideas; he stops without reason, looks without seeing...

- Every pain has its expression, said Marguerite, holding back her tears. What did you want to tell me, she continued after a pause and with cold dignity.

- Mademoiselle, replied Emmanuel in an emotional voice, do I have the right to speak to you as I am going to do? Please see only my desire to be useful to you, and let me believe that a teacher can be interested in the fate of his students to the point of worrying about their future. Your brother Gabriel is over fifteen years old, he is in second grade, and it is certainly necessary to direct his studies in the spirit of the career he will pursue. Your father is the master to decide this question; but if he didn't think about it, wouldn't it be a misfortune for Gabriel? Wouldn't it also be mortifying for your father if you pointed out to him that he doesn't take care of his son? In this situation, could you not consult your brother about his tastes, have him choose a career for himself, so that if, later, his father wanted to make him a magistrate, an administrator, a soldier, Gabriel would already have special knowledge? I don't think that either you or Mr. Claës want to leave him idle...

- Oh ! no, said Marguerite. Thank you, Mr. Emmanuel, you are right. My mother, by making us make lace, by teaching us with such care to draw, to sew, to embroider, to play the piano, often told us that we did not know what could happen in life. Gabriel must have personal value and a well-rounded education. But what is the most suitable career a man can take?

- Mademoiselle, said Emmanuel, trembling with happiness. Gabriel is the one in his class who shows the most aptitude for mathematics; if he wanted to enter the Ecole Polytechnique, I believe that he would acquire useful knowledge in all careers. Upon his release, he would remain in charge of choosing the one for which he would have the most taste. Without having previously prejudged anything about its future, you will have saved time. Men who have graduated with honor from this School are welcome everywhere. It provided administrators, diplomats, scientists, engineers, generals, sailors, magistrates, manufacturers and bankers. There is therefore nothing extraordinary in seeing a rich young man or a good house working with the aim of being admitted there. If Gabriel decided to do it, I would ask you... will you grant it to me! Say yes!

-What do you want?

“Be his tutor,” he said, trembling.

Marguerite looked at Monsieur de Solis, took his hand and said: - Yes. She paused and added in an emotional voice: - How much I appreciate the delicacy which makes you offer precisely what I can accept from you. In what you just said, I see that you thought well of us. Thank you.

Although these words were said simply, Emmanuel turned his head away so as not to show the tears that the pleasure of pleasing Marguerite brought to his eyes.

- I'll bring them both to you, he said, when he had regained some composure, "tomorrow's day off."

He got up, greeted Marguerite who followed him, and when he was in the courtyard, he saw her again at the door of the dining room from where she addressed him with a friendly wave. After dinner, the notary came to pay a visit to Monsieur Claës, and sat down in the garden, between his cousin and Marguerite, precisely on the bench where Emmanuel had sat.

- My dear cousin, he said, I came this evening to talk to you about business. Forty-three days have passed since your wife died.

- I didn't count them, said Balthazar, wiping away a tear that the legal word " death" snatched from him.

- Oh ! sir, said Marguerite, looking at the notary, how can you...

- But, my cousin, the rest of us are forced to count on deadlines which are fixed by law. This is precisely about you and your co-heirs. Mr. Claës only has minor children, he is required to make an inventory within forty-five days following the death of his wife, in order to ascertain the values ​​​​of the community. Don't we have to know if it is good or bad, to accept it or to stick to the pure and simple rights of minors. Marguerite got up. - Stay, my cousin, said Pierquin, these matters concern you and your father. You know how much I share in your sorrows; but you must take care of these details today, otherwise you might both find it very difficult! I am currently doing my duty as family notary.

“He's right,” said Claës.

- The deadline expires in two days, continued the notary, I must therefore proceed, tomorrow, to the opening of the inventory, if only to delay the payment of the inheritance taxes that the tax authorities will come to ask you, the taxman has no heart, he doesn't care about feelings, he puts his claw on us at all times. So, every day, from ten o'clock until four o'clock, my clerk and I will come with the auctioneer, Mr. Raparlier. When we have finished in the city, we will go to the countryside. As for the Waignies forest, we are going to talk about it. That said, let's move on to another point. We have a family council to agree, to appoint a substitute guardian. Mr. Conyncks of Bruges is today your closest relative; but now he has become Belgian! You should, my cousin, write to him on this subject, you would know if the man wants to settle in France where he owns beautiful properties, and you could thus persuade him to come and live in French Flanders. If he refuses, I will see to the composition of the council, according to the degrees of kinship.

- What is an inventory for, asked Marguerite.

- To record the rights, values, assets and liabilities. When everything is well established, the family council makes the determinations it deems in the interest of the minors...

- Pierquin, said Claës who rose from the bench, carry out the actions that you believe necessary to preserve the rights of my children; but spare us the sorrow of seeing what belonged to my dear sold... He did not finish, he had said these words with such a noble air and in such a penetrating tone that Marguerite took the hand of her father and kissed her.

- See you tomorrow, said Pierquin.

“Come and have lunch,” said Balthazar. Then Claës appeared to gather his memories and exclaimed: - But according to my marriage contract which was made under the custom of Hainault, I had exempted my wife from the inventory so that she would not be tormented, II probably don't have to either ...

- Oh! what happiness, said Marguerite, he would have caused us so much pain.

- Hey! Well, we will examine your contract tomorrow, replied the notary, a little confused.

- So you didn't know him? Marguerite told him.

This observation interrupted the interview. The notary found himself too embarrassed to continue after his cousin's observation.

- The devil gets involved! he said to himself in the courtyard. This absent-minded man regains his memory just when needed to prevent people from taking precautions against him. Her children will be robbed! it's as sure as two and two make four. So talk business to nineteen-year-old girls who are emotional. I racked my brains to save the welfare of these children, by proceeding regularly and by getting along with the good man Conyncks. And there you go! I get lost in the mind of Marguerite who goes to ask her father why I wanted to carry out an inventory which she believes to be useless. And Mr. Claës will tell him that notaries have a mania for carrying out documents, that we are notaries before being parents, cousins ​​or friends, in short, nonsense...

He closed the door violently, cursing at the customers who were ruining themselves out of sensitivity.

Balthazar was right. The inventory did not take place. Nothing was therefore determined about the situation in which the father found himself with regard to his children. Several months passed without the situation of the Claës house changing. Gabriel, skillfully led by Monsieur de Solis who had become his tutor, worked diligently, learned foreign languages ​​​​and prepared to take the necessary exam to enter the Ecole Polytechnique. Félicie and Marguerite had lived in absolute retirement, nevertheless going, to save money, to live in their father's country house during the summer.

Monsieur Claës took care of his affairs, paid his debts by borrowing a considerable sum from his property and visited the forest of Waignies. In the middle of 1817, his grievance, slowly assuaged, left him alone and defenseless against the monotony of the life he led and which weighed on him. He first fought courageously against Science which was gradually waking up, and forbade himself from thinking about Chemistry. Then he thought about it. But he did not want to deal with it actively, he only dealt with it theoretically. This constant study gave rise to his passion which became argumentative. He discussed whether he had pledged not to continue his research and remembered that his wife had not wanted his oath. Although he had promised himself to no longer pursue the solution of his problem, he could not change his determination from the moment he saw success. He was already fifty-nine years old.

At this age, the idea which dominated him contracted the harsh fixity with which monomanias began.

Circumstances further conspired against his wavering loyalty. The peace enjoyed by Europe had allowed the circulation of scientific discoveries and ideas acquired during the war by scientists from different countries among whom there had been no relations for nearly twenty years. Science had therefore worked. Claës found that progress in chemistry had been directed, unknown to chemists, towards the object of his research. People devoted to high science thought like him that light, heat, electricity, galvanism and magnetism were different effects of the same cause, that the difference that existed between bodies hitherto deemed simple had to be produced by the various dosages of an unknown principle.The fear of seeing someone else find the reduction of metals and the constituent principle of electricity, two discoveries which led to the solution of the chemical Absolute, increased what the inhabitants of Douai called madness, and brought his desires to a paroxysm that will be conceived by people passionate about science, or who have experienced the tyranny of ideas.

So Balthazar was soon carried away by a passion all the more violent because she had slept the longer. Marguerite, who was spying on the moods her father was going through, opened the parlor. By remaining there, she revived the painful memories that her mother's death would cause, and succeeded in fact, by awakening her father's regrets, in delaying his fall into the abyss into which he was nevertheless bound to fall. She wanted to go out into the world and forced Balthazar to find distractions there. Several considerable parties presented themselves for her, and occupied Claës, although Marguerite declared that she would not marry before having reached her twenty-fifth year. Despite his daughter's efforts, despite violent battles, at the beginning of winter, Balthazar secretly resumed his work. It was difficult to hide such occupations from curious women. One day, Martha said to Marguerite while dressing her: - Mademoiselle, we are lost! This monster Mulquinier, who is the devil in disguise, because I never saw him make the sign of the cross, went back up into the attic. Here is your father sent to hell. Heaven bless him not to kill you like he killed this poor dear madam.

“That's not possible,” said Marguerite.

- Come see the proof of their trafficking...

Miss Claës ran to the window and saw a light smoke coming out of the laboratory pipe.

- I'll be twenty-one in a few months, she thought, I will know how to oppose the dissipation of our fortune.

By giving way to his passion, Balthazar necessarily had less respect for the interests of his children than he had for his wife. The barriers were lower, his consciousness was broader, his passion became stronger. So he walked through his career of glory, work, hope and misery with the fury of a man full of conviction. Sure of the result, he began to work night and day with a passion that frightened his daughters, who did not know how little harmful the work a man enjoys is. As soon as her father had restarted his experiments, Marguerite removed the superfluities from the table, became parsimonious worthy of a miser, and was admirably assisted by Josette and by Martha. Claës did not notice this reform which reduced life to what was strictly necessary. At first he did not eat lunch, then he did not come down from his laboratory until dinner time, and finally he went to bed a few hours after remaining in the parlor between his two daughters, without saying a word to them.

When he left, they wished him good evening, and he let himself be kissed mechanically on both cheeks. Such conduct would have caused the greatest domestic misfortunes if Marguerite had not been prepared to exercise the authority of a mother, and protected by a secret passion against the misfortunes of such great freedom. Pierquin had stopped coming to see his cousins, judging that their ruin was going to be complete. Balthazar's rural properties, which brought in sixteen thousand francs and were worth around two hundred thousand crowns, were already burdened with three hundred thousand francs in mortgages. Before returning to Chemistry, Claës had taken out a considerable loan. The income was precisely sufficient to pay the interest; but as with the improvidence natural to men devoted to an idea, he abandoned his rents to Marguerite to meet the expenses of the house, the notary had calculated that three years would be enough to set fire to the affairs, and that the people of justice would devour what Balthazar would not have eaten. Marguerite's coldness had brought Pierquin to a state of almost hostile indifference. To give himself the right to renounce the hand of his cousin, if she became too poor, he said of Claës with an air of compassion: - "These poor people are ruined, I did everything I could to save them; but what do you want! Mademoiselle Claës refused all the legal combinations which were to protect them from poverty."

Appointed headmaster of the college of Douai, through the protection of his uncle, Emmanuel, whom his transcendent merit had made worthy of this position, came every day during the evening to see the two young girls who called the duenna to their side as soon as their father was going to bed. The hammer blow gently struck by the young man from Solis never delayed. For three months, encouraged by the gracious and silent gratitude with which Marguerite accepted his care, he had become himself. The radiance of her soul, pure as a diamond, shone without clouds, and Marguerite was able to appreciate its strength and duration, seeing how inexhaustible the source was.

She admired the flowers blooming one by one, after having inhaled their scents in advance. Every day, Emmanuel fulfilled one of Marguerite's hopes, and made new lights shine in the enchanted regions of love which chased away the clouds, calmed their skies, and colored the fertile riches buried until then in the shadows. More at ease, Emmanuel was able to display the seductions of his heart until then discreetly hidden: this expansive cheerfulness of youth, this simplicity that a life filled with study gives, and the treasures of a delicate spirit that the world does not have not adulterated , all the innocent joys which follow loving youth so well. His soul and that of Marguerite understood each other better, they went together to the depths of their hearts and found there the same thoughts: pearls of the same brilliance, sweet and fresh harmonies similar to those which are under the sea, and which, said -we, divers are fascinated! They made themselves known to each other through these exchanges of words, through this alternating curiosity which, in both of them, took the most delicious forms of feeling. It was without false shame, but not without mutual coquetry.

The two hours that Emmanuel came to spend every evening between these two young girls and Martha made Marguerite accept the life of anxiety and resignation into which she had entered. This naively progressive love was his support. Emmanuel carried in his expressions of affection this natural grace which seduces so much, this gentle and fine spirit which nuances the uniformity of the feeling, as the facets highlight the monotony of a precious stone, by bringing into play all the lights; admirable ways in which the secret belongs to loving hearts, and which make women faithful to the artistic Hand under which forms are always reborn new, to the Voice which never repeats a phrase without refreshing it with new modulations. Love is not just a feeling, it is an art too. A few simple words, a precaution, a nothing reveal to a woman the great and sublime artist who can touch her heart without withering it.The better Emmanuel went, the more charming were the expressions of his love.

- I got ahead of Pierquin, he said to him one evening, he has come to tell you bad news, I prefer to tell you it myself. Your father sold your forest to speculators who sold it in parts; the trees are already cut down, all the planks are removed. Monsieur Claës received three hundred thousand francs in cash which he used to pay his debts in Paris; and, to extinguish them entirely, he was even obliged to make a delegation of one hundred thousand francs out of the one hundred thousand crowns which remain to be paid by the buyers.

Pierquin entered.

- Hey! Well, my dear cousin, he said, you are ruined, I predicted it to you; but you didn't want to listen to me. Your father has a good appetite. He, with the first bite, swallowed your antlers. Your substitute guardian, Mr. Conyncks, is in Amsterdam, where he is finishing liquidating his fortune, and Claës seized this moment to make his move. It's not good. I have just written to the good man Conyncks; but when he arrives, everything will be ruined. You will be obliged to prosecute your father, the trial will not be long, but it will be a dishonorable trial that Mr. Conyncks cannot avoid bringing, the law requires it. This is the fruit of your stubbornness. Do you now recognize how prudent I was, how devoted I was to your interests?

- I bring you good news, mademoiselle, said the young man from Solis in his soft voice, Gabriel has been admitted to the Polytechnic school. The difficulties which had arisen for his admission were ironed out.
Marguerite thanked her friend with a smile, and said: - My savings will have a destination! Martha, we will take care of Gabriel's trousseau tomorrow. My poor Félicie, we are going to work well, she said, kissing her sister on the forehead.

- Tomorrow you will have him here for ten days, he must be in Paris on November 15.

- My cousin Gabriel is making a good decision, said the notary, eyeing the headmaster, he will need to make a fortune. But, my dear cousin, it is a question of saving the honor of the family; will you listen to me this time?

- No, she said, if it's still a question of marriage.

- But what are you going to do?

- Me, my cousin? Nothing.

- However, you are an adult.

- In a few days. Do you have, said Marguerite, a party to propose to me that could reconcile our interests and what we owe to our father, to the honor of the family?

- Cousin, we can't do anything without your uncle. That said, I'll come back when he's back.

“Farewell, sir,” said Marguerite.

- The poorer she becomes, the more she stutters, thought the notary. Farewell, miss, replied Pierquin aloud. Mr. Principal, I greet you perfectly. And he left, without paying attention to either Félicie or Martha.

- For two days, I have been studying the code, and I consulted an old lawyer, a friend of my uncle, said Emmanuel in a trembling voice. I will leave, if you allow me, tomorrow, for Amsterdam Listen, dear Marguerite...

He said this word for the first time, she thanked him with a wet look, a smile and a tilt of the head. He stopped, pointed to Félicie and Martha.

- Speak in front of my sister, said Marguerite. She doesn't need this discussion to resign herself to our life of deprivation and work, she is so sweet and so courageous! But she must know how much courage is necessary for us.

The two sisters took each other's hands and kissed as if to give each other a new pledge of their union in the face of misfortune.

- Leave us, Martha.

“Dear Marguerite,” Emmanuel continued, letting the happiness he felt in conquering the small rights of affection shine through in the inflection of his voice; I have obtained the names and residences of the buyers who owe the two hundred thousand francs remaining on the price of the felled timber. Tomorrow, if you agree, a lawyer acting in the name of Mr. Conyncks, who will not disavow him, will place opposition in their hands. In six days, your great-uncle will be back, he will convene a family council, and will emancipate Gabriel, who is eighteen years old. As you and your brother are authorized to exercise your rights, you will ask for your share in the price of the wood, Mr. Claës will not be able to refuse you the two hundred thousand francs stopped by the opposition; as for the hundred thousand others that will still be owed to you, you will obtain a mortgage obligation which will rest on the house in which you live. Mr. Conyncks will demand guarantees for the three hundred thousand francs which increased to Miss Félicie and Jean. In this situation, your father will be forced to mortgage his property in the Orchies plain, already encumbered by one hundred thousand crowns.

The law gives retroactive priority to registrations made in the interests of minors; everything will therefore be saved. Mr. Claës will now have his hands tied, your lands are inalienable; he will no longer be able to borrow anything from his own, which will be liable for sums greater than their price, the business will have been done within the family, without scandal, without trial. Your father will be forced to proceed cautiously in his research, if he does not even cease it altogether.

- Yes, said Marguerite, but where will our income be? The hundred thousand francs mortgaged on this house will bring us nothing, since we live there. The proceeds from the property my father owns in the Orchies plain will pay the interest on the three hundred thousand francs owed to foreigners; what will we live with?

- First, said Emmanuel, by placing the fifty thousand francs which will remain with Gabriel on his share, in the public funds, you will have, according to the current rate, more than four thousand pounds of income which will be sufficient for his pension and his interview in Paris. Gabriel cannot dispose of the sum registered on his father's house, nor of his annuity funds; so you will not fear that he will waste a denarius, and you will have one less charge. Then, won't you have a hundred and fifty thousand francs left for you?

- My father will ask me for them, she said with fear, and I won't be able to refuse them to him.

- Hey! Well, dear Marguerite, you can still save them by stripping yourself of them. Place them in the Great Book, in your brother's name. This sum will give you twelve or thirteen thousand pounds of income which will sustain you. Emancipated minors cannot alienate anything without the advice of a family council, so you will gain three years of peace. By this time, your father will have found his problem or probably given up on it; Gabriel, having reached the age of majority, will return the funds to you to establish accounts between the four of you.

Marguerite had provisions of the law explained to her again which she could not understand at first. It was certainly a new scene, that of the two lovers studying the code which Emmanuel had used to teach his mistress the laws which governed the property of minors; she soon grasped the spirit of it, thanks to the natural penetration of women. , and which love still sharpened.

The next day, Gabriel returned to his father's house. When Monsieur de Solis returned him to Balthazar, announcing his admission to the Polytechnic School, the father thanked the headmaster with a wave of his hand, and said: - I am very happy, Gabriel will therefore be a scholar.

- Oh ! my brother, said Marguerite seeing Balthazar go back to his laboratory, work well, don't spend money! do whatever needs to be done; but be thrifty. The days you go out in Paris, go to our friends, to our parents so as not to contract any of the tastes that ruin young people. Your pension rises to nearly a thousand crowns, you will have a thousand francs left for your little pleasures, that must be enough.

- I answer for him, said Emmanuel de Solis, tapping his student on the shoulder.

A month later, Monsieur de Conyncks had, in concert with Marguerite, obtained all the desirable guarantees from Claës. The plans so wisely designed by Emmanuel de Solis were entirely approved and executed. In the presence of the law, before his cousin whose fierce probity had difficulty compromising on questions of honor, Balthazar, ashamed of the sale he had agreed to at a time when he was harassed by his creditors, submitted to everything that was demanded of him . Satisfied at being able to repair the damage he had almost involuntarily done to his children, he signed the documents with the concern of a scholar. He had become completely improvident in the way of negroes who, in the morning, sell their wives for a drop of brandy, and mourn her in the evening.

He did not even cast his eyes on his nearest future, he did not wonder what his resources would be when he had spent his last crown; he continued his work, continued his purchases, without knowing that he was no more than the titular owner of his house, his properties, and that it would be impossible for him, thanks to the severity of the laws, to obtain a penny. over whose property he was in some way the judicial guardian. The year 1818 expired without any unfortunate event. The two young girls paid the costs necessary for Jean's education, and met all the expenses of their household, with the eighteen thousand francs of income, placed under the name of Gabriel, the semesters of which were sent to them exactly by their brother. Monsieur de Solis lost his uncle in December of this year.

One morning, Marguerite learned from Martha that her father had sold his collection of tulips, the furniture from the front house, and all the silverware. She was obliged to buy the cutlery necessary for serving the table, and had them marked with her figure. Until this day she had kept silent about the depredations of Balthazar; but in the evening, after dinner, she asked Félicie to leave her alone with her father, and when he was seated, as usual, in the corner of the fireplace in the parlor, Marguerite said to him: - My dear father, you are the master to sell everything here, even your children. Here we will all obey you without a murmur; but I am forced to point out to you that we are without money, that we barely have enough to live on this year, and that we will be obliged, Félicie and I, to work night and day to pay Jean's pension, with the price of the lace dress that we have undertaken. I implore you, my good father, to stop your work.

- You are right, my child, in six weeks everything will be over! I will have found the Absolute, or the Absolute will not be found. You will all be millions rich...

“Leave us a piece of bread for the moment,” replied Marguerite.

- There is no bread here, said Claës with a frightened air, no bread at a Claës. And all our possessions?

- You razed the Waignies forest. The soil is not yet free of it, and cannot produce anything. As for your farms in Orchies, the income is not enough to pay the interest on the sums you have borrowed.

- What do we live with then, he asked.

Marguerite showed him her needle, and added: - Gabriel's income helps us, but they are insufficient. I would make ends meet for the year if you didn't burden me with bills I don't expect, you don't tell me anything about your purchases in town. When I think I have enough for my quarter, and my little provisions are made, I receive a memorandum of soda, potash, zinc, sulfur, what do I know?

- My dear child, six more weeks of patience; afterwards, I will behave wisely. And you will see wonders, my little Marguerite.

- It's high time you thought about your business. You sold everything: paintings, tulips, silverware, we have nothing left; at least don't take on new debt.

“I don’t want to do it anymore,” said the old man.

“More,” she cried. So you have any?

- Well, miseries, he replied, lowering his eyes and blushing.

Marguerite found herself humiliated for the first time by her father's degradation, and suffered so much from it that she did not dare to question him. A month after this scene, a city banker came to collect a bill of exchange for ten thousand francs, subscribed by Claës. Marguerite having asked the banker to wait during the day, expressing regret at not having been informed of this payment, he informed her that the house of Protez et Chiffreville had nine others of the same sum, due from month to month. month.

- Everything is said, cried Marguerite, the hour has come.

She sent for her father and strode excitedly through the parlor, talking to herself: - Find a hundred thousand francs, she said, or see our father in prison! What to do?

Balthazar didn't come down. Tired of waiting for him, Marguerite went up to the laboratory. As she entered, she saw her father in the middle of an immense, brightly lit room, furnished with machines and powdery glassware; here and there, books, tables cluttered with labeled and numbered products. Everywhere the disorder caused by the preoccupation of the scholar offended Flemish habits. This ensemble of matras, retorts, metals, fancifully colored crystallizations, samples hung on the walls, or thrown on stoves, was dominated by the figure of Balthazar Claës who, without clothes, with bare arms like those of a worker, showed his chest covered with white hair like his hair. His horribly fixed eyes did not leave a pneumatic machine. The container of this machine was topped with a lens formed by double convex glasses whose interior was full of alcohol and which united the rays of the sun then entering through one of the compartments of the rose in the attic. The container, whose tray was isolated, communicated with the wires of an immense Volta battery. Lemulquinier, busy moving the plate of this machine mounted on a movable axis, in order to always keep the lens in a direction perpendicular to the rays of the sun, stood up, his face black with dust, and said: - Ha! Miss, don't come any closer!

The appearance of his father who, almost kneeling in front of his machine, directly received the sunlight, and whose scattered hair looked like threads of silver, his humped skull, his face contracted by a terrible expectation, the singularity the objects which surrounded him, the darkness in which the parts of this vast attic were located from which strange machines were shooting out, everything contributed to striking Marguerite who said to herself with terror: My father is crazy! She approached him to whisper in his ear: - Send Lemulquinier away.

- No, no, my child, I need him, I am waiting for the effect of a beautiful experience that others have not thought of. We have been waiting for a ray of sunshine for three days. I have the means to subject metals in a perfect vacuum, to concentrated solar fires and to electric currents. You see, in a moment, the most energetic action available to a chemist will burst forth, and I alone...

- Hey! my father, instead of vaporizing the metals, you should reserve them to pay for your bills of exchange...

-Wait, wait!

- Mr. Mersktus has come, father, he needs ten thousand francs at four o'clock.

- Yes, yes, later. I had signed these little effects for this month, it's true. I believed that I would have found the Absolute. My God, if I had the July sun, my experience would be complete!

He took hold of his hair, sat down on a bad cane chair, and a few tears rolled down his eyes.

- Sir is right. It's all the fault of this sun bastard who is too weak, the coward, the lazy one!

The master and the servant no longer paid any attention to Marguerite.

“Leave us, Mulquinier,” she said.

- Oh! I have a new experience, cried Claës.

- My father, forget your experiences, said his daughter when they were alone, you have a hundred thousand francs to pay, and we don't own a farthing. Leave your laboratory, today it is about your honor. What will become of you when you are in prison! will you stain your white hair and the Claës name with the infamy of bankruptcy? I will oppose it. I will have the strength to fight your madness, it would be terrible to see you without bread in your last days. Open your eyes to our position, finally have reason?

- Madness! cried Balthazar, who stood up on his legs, fixed his luminous eyes on his daughter, crossed his arms on his chest, and repeated the word madness so majestically that Marguerite trembled. Ah! your mother wouldn't have said that word to me! he continued, she was not unaware of the importance of my research, she had learned a science to understand me, she knew that I work for humanity, that there is nothing personal or sordid in me. The feeling of the woman who loves is, I see, above filial affection.

Yes, love is the most beautiful of all feelings! Have reason? he continued, beating his chest, “did I miss it? am I not me? We are poor, my daughter, eh! well, I want it that way. I am your father, obey me.

I will make you rich when it pleases. Your fortune, but it's a pittance. When I have found a carbon remover, I will fill your parlor with diamonds, and that is nothing compared to what I am looking for. You can wait, when I consume myself in gigantic efforts.

- My father, I have no right to ask you to account for the four million that you have swallowed up in this attic without result. I won't tell you about my mother who killed you. If I had a husband, I would undoubtedly love him as much as my mother loved you, and I would be ready to sacrifice everything to him, as she sacrificed everything to you. I followed his orders by giving myself entirely to you, I proved it to you by not marrying so as not to force you to return your guardianship account to me. Let's leave the past, let's think about the present. I come here to represent the necessity that you yourself created.

You need money for your bills of exchange, do you hear? there is nothing to capture here other than the portrait of our ancestor Van-Claës. I therefore come in the name of my mother, who found herself too weak to defend her children against their father and who ordered me to resist you, I come in the name of my brothers and my sister, I come, my father, in the name of all the Claës order you to leave your experiments, to make a fortune of your own before continuing them. If you arm yourself with your paternity which is only felt to kill us, I have on my side your ancestors and the honor which speaks louder than Chemistry. Families come before Science. I have been your daughter too much!

“And you want to be my executioner then,” he said in a weakened voice.

Marguerite ran away so as not to abdicate the role she had just taken, she thought she heard her mother's voice when she said to him: Do n't upset your father too much, love him well!

- Mademoiselle is doing some beautiful work up there! said Lemulquinier as he went down to the kitchen to have lunch. We were going to get our hands on the secret, all we needed was a bit of July sunshine, because sir, ah! what a man! he is almost in the shoes of the good Lord! It's not far from that,” he said to Josette, clicking the nail of his right thumb under the tooth popularly called the palette, “that we don't know the principle of everything. Patatras! she comes to shout about stupid bills of exchange.

- Hey! well, pay for them with your wages, said Martha, these letters of exchange?

- Is there no butter to put on my bread? said Lemulquinier to Josette.

-And money to buy some? replied the cook sourly. How, old monster, if you make gold in your demon kitchen, why don't you make yourself a little butter? it wouldn't be so difficult, and you would sell enough at the market to keep the pot going. The rest of us eat dry bread! These two young ladies are happy with bread and nuts, so you would be better fed than the masters? Mademoiselle only wants to spend a hundred francs a month for the whole house. We're just having dinner now. If you want sweets, you have your stoves up there where you grind pearls, that's all they talk about at the market. Make roast chickens there.

Lemulquinier took his bread and went out.

- He's going to buy something with his money, said Martha, so much the better, it will be that much saved. How greedy is this Chinese!

- He had to be starved, said Josette. It's been eight days since he rubbed anything anywhere , I'm doing his work, he's still up there; he can repay me for that, by treating us to some herrings, if he brings some, I'll happily go and take them from him!

- Oh! Martha said, I heard Miss Marguerite crying. His old wizard father will swallow the house without saying a Christian word, the wizard. In my country, they would have already burned him alive; but here we have no more religion than among the Moors of Africa.

Mademoiselle Claës was struggling to suppress her sobs as she crossed the gallery. She went to her room, looked for her mother's letter, and read the following:

"My child, if God allows it, my spirit will be in your heart when you read these lines, the last ones that I will have drawn! They are full of love for my dear little ones who remain abandoned to a demon to whom I have not not able to resist. He will therefore have absorbed your bread, as he devoured my life and even my love. You knew, my beloved, if I loved your father! I will expire the lover less, since I take against him precautions that I would not have admitted during my lifetime. Yes, I will have kept at the bottom of my coffin a last resource for the day when you will be at the highest level of misfortune.

If it has reduced you to indigence, or if it is necessary to save your happiness, my child, you will find with Monsieur de Solis, if he is still living, otherwise with his nephew, our good Emmanuel, approximately one hundred and seventy thousand francs, which will help you to live. If nothing has been able to tame his passion, if his children are not a stronger barrier for him than my happiness was, and do not stop him in his criminal march, leave your father, at least live! I couldn't abandon him, I owed myself to him. You, Marguerite, save the family! I absolve you from everything you will do to defend Gabriel, Jean and Félicie.

Take courage, be the tutelary angel of the Claës. Be firm, I dare not say be merciless; but to be able to repair the misfortunes already done, you must preserve some fortune, and you must consider yourself as being in the aftermath of misery, nothing will stop the fury of the passion which has stolen everything from me. So, my daughter, it will be full of heart to forget your heart; your dissimulation, if it were necessary to lie to your father, would be glorious; your actions, however blameworthy they may seem, would all be heroic, done in order to protect the family. The virtuous Monsieur de Solis told me this, and never was his conscience purer or more clearly-sighted than his. I wouldn't have had the strength to say these words to you, even when I was dying. However, always be respectful and good in this horrible struggle! Resist by adoring, refuse with gentleness. So I will have had unknown tears and pain that will only break out after my death. Embrace, in my name, my dear children, at the moment when you thus become their protection. May God and the saints be with you.

Josephine. "

Attached to this letter was an acknowledgment from the gentlemen of Solis, uncle and nephew, who undertook to hand over the deposit made in their hands by Madame Claës to the one of her children who would represent this writing to them.

- Martha, shouted Marguerite to the duenna who promptly came upstairs, go to Monsieur Emmanuel and ask him to come to my house. Noble and discreet creature! he never said anything to me, she thought, to me whose troubles and sorrows had become his.

Emmanuel came before Martha returned.

- Did you have any secrets from me? she said, showing him the writing.

Emmanuel lowered his head.

- Marguerite, are you very unhappy? he continued, letting a few tears roll into his eyes.

- Oh ! Yes. Be my support, you whom my mother named our good Emmanuel , she said, showing him the letter and not being able to repress a movement of joy at seeing his choice approved by his mother.

“My blood and my life were yours the day after I saw you in the gallery,” he replied, crying with joy and pain; but I didn't know, I didn't dare hope that one day you would accept my blood. If you know me well, you must know that my word is sacred. Forgive me for this perfect obedience to your mother's wishes, it was not for me to judge her intentions.

“You saved us,” she said, interrupting him and taking his arm to go down to the visiting room.

After learning the origin of the sum that Emmanuel was keeping, Marguerite confided to him the sad necessity that plagued the house.

- You have to go and pay the bills of exchange, said Emmanuel, if they are all with Mersktus, you will earn the interest. I will give you the seventy thousand francs that you have left. My poor uncle left me a similar sum in ducats which will be easy to transport secretly.

- Yes, she said, bring them at night; when my father sleeps, we will hide them between us. If he knew I had money, perhaps he would do violence to me. Oh ! Emmanuel, distrust his father! she said, crying and pressing her forehead to the young man's heart.

This graceful and sad movement by which Marguerite sought protection, was the first expression of this love always enveloped in melancholy, always contained in a sphere of pain; but this overfull heart had to overflow, and it was under the weight of misery!

-What to do? what to become? He doesn't see anything, doesn't care about us or about himself, because I don't know how he can live in this attic where the air is burning.

- What can you expect from a man who at all times exclaims like Richard III: My kingdom for a horse! said Emmanuel. He will always be ruthless, and you must be as ruthless as he is. Pay his bills of exchange, give him, if you want, your fortune; but that of your sister, that of your brothers is neither yours nor his.

- Give away my fortune? she said, shaking Emmanuel's hand and giving him a fiery look, "you recommend it to me! while Pierquin told a thousand lies to keep it for me.

- Alas! maybe I'm selfish in my own way? he said. Sometimes I would like you without fortune, it seems to me that you would be closer to me; sometimes I would like you to be rich, happy, and I find that there is pettiness in believing that we are separated by the poor grandeurs of fortune.

-Dear! let's not talk about us...

- We! he repeated drunkenly. Then after a pause, he added: - The evil is great, but it is not irreparable.

- It will be repaired by us alone, the Claës family no longer has a leader. To end up being neither father nor man, having no notion of just and unjust, because he, so great, so generous, so honest, he has dissipated despite the law the good of the children to whom he owes serve as a defender! into what abyss has he fallen? My God! So what is he looking for?

- Unfortunately, my dear Marguerite, if he is wrong as head of the family, he is right scientifically; and twenty men in Europe will admire him, where all the others will accuse him of madness; but you can unscrupulously deny him the fortune of his children. A discovery has always been a coincidence. If your father is to find the solution to his problem, he will find it without so much expense, and perhaps at the moment when he despairs of it!

- My poor mother is happy, said Marguerite, she would have suffered death a thousand times before dying, she who perished in her first shock against Science. But this fight has no end...

- There is an end, Emmanuel continued. When you have nothing left, Mr. Claës will no longer find credit, and will stop.

- Let him stop today, cried Marguerite, we are without resources.

Monsieur de Solis went to buy the bills of exchange and gave them to Marguerite. Balthazar came down a few moments before dinner, against his usual habit. For the first time in two years, his daughter saw in his countenance the signs of a horrible sadness to see: he had become a father again, reason had driven out Science, he looked into the courtyard, into the garden, and when he was certain of finding himself alone with his daughter, he came to her with a movement full of melancholy and kindness.

- My child, he said, taking her hand and shaking it with unctuous tenderness, forgive your old father.

Yes, Marguerite, I was wrong. Only you are right. Until I find it, I'm a wretch! I'll leave here. I don't want to see Van-Claës sold, he said, pointing to the portrait of the martyr. He died for Freedom, I will have died for Science, he revered, hated me.

-Hai, my father? no, she said, throwing herself on his bosom, we all adore you. Isn't that right, Félicie? she said to her sister who was entering at that moment.

- What is the matter with you, my dear father? said the young girl, taking her hand.

-I ruined you.

- Hey! said Félicie, our brothers will make us a fortune. Jean is always first in his class.

- Here, my father, continued Marguerite, bringing Balthazar with a movement full of grace and filial coaxing in front of the fireplace where she took some papers which were under the cartel, here are your bills of exchange; but don't subscribe any more, there would be nothing left to pay for them...

“So you have money,” said Balthazar in Marguerite's ear when he had recovered from his surprise.

This word suffocated this heroic girl, there was so much delirium, joy, hope in the face of her father who looked around him, as if to discover gold.

- My father, she said with an accent of pain, I have my fortune.

- Give it to me, he said, letting out an eager gesture, I will give you back everything a hundredfold.

- Yes, I will give it to you, replied Marguerite, contemplating Balthazar who did not understand the meaning that his daughter gave to this word.

- Ha! my dear daughter, he said, you save my life! I imagined one last experience, after which nothing is possible. If, this time, I do not find it, I will have to give up looking for the Absolute. Give me your arm, come, my darling child, I would like to make you the happiest woman on earth, you restore me to happiness, to glory; you give me the power to fill you with treasures, I will overwhelm you with jewels, with riches.

He kissed his daughter on the forehead, took her hands, squeezed them, showed her his joy with cuddles that seemed almost servile to Marguerite; during dinner Balthazar only saw her, he looked at her with the eagerness, with the attention, the liveliness that a lover displays for his mistress: was she making a movement? he tried to guess her thoughts, her desire, and got up to serve her; he made her ashamed, he gave her care a sort of youth which contrasted with her anticipated old age. But, to these cajoleries Marguerite contrasted the picture of the current distress, either with a word of doubt, or with a look that she cast at the empty shelves of the dressers in this dining room.

- Go, he said to him, in six months, we will fill it with gold and wonders. You will be like a queen.

Well! all nature will belong to us, we will be above everything... and through you... my Marguerite.

Margarita? he continued, smiling, your name is a prophecy. Margarita means a pearl. Sterne said that somewhere. Have you read Sterne? do you want a Tern? it will amuse you.

- The pearl is, they say, the fruit of an illness, she continued, and we have already suffered a lot!
- Don't be sad, you will make those you love happy, you will be very powerful, very rich.

“Mademoiselle has such a good heart,” said Lemulquinier, whose skimmer face painfully grimaced into a smile.

During the rest of the evening, Balthazar displayed for his two daughters all the graces of his character and all the charm of his conversation. Seductive like a snake, his words and his looks exuded a magnetic fluid, and he washed this power of genius, this gentle spirit which fascinated Joséphine, and he put his daughters, so to speak, in his heart. When Emmanuel de Solis came, he found, for the first time in a long time, the father and children reunited. Despite his reserve, the young headmaster was subject to the prestige of this scene, because Balthazar's conversation and manners had an irresistible drive.

Although immersed in the abysses of thought, and incessantly occupied in observing the moral world, men of science nevertheless perceive the smallest details in the sphere in which they live. More untimely than distracted, they are never in harmony with what surrounds them, they know and forget everything; they prejudge the future, prophesy for themselves, are aware of an event before it breaks out, but they have said nothing about it. If in the silence of meditations they have used their power to recognize what is happening around them, it is enough for them to have guessed: the work carries them away, and they almost always apply falsely the knowledge they have acquired.

have acquired about the things of life. Sometimes, when they wake up from their social apathy, or when they fall from the moral world into the outer world, they return there with a rich memory, and are strangers to nothing there. Thus Balthazar, who combined the insight of the heart with the insight of the brain, knew his daughter's entire past, he knew or had guessed the smallest events of the mysterious love which united her to Emmanuel, he proved it to them finely, and sanctioned their affection by sharing it.

It was the sweetest flattery that a father could give, and the two lovers could not resist it. This evening was delightful because of the contrast it formed with the sorrows which assailed the lives of these poor children. When, after having, so to speak, them filled with his light and bathed in tenderness, Balthazar withdrew, Emmanuel de Solis, who until then had had an embarrassed countenance, got rid of three thousand gold ducats which he held in his pockets. fearing to let them be seen. He put them on Marguerite's worker who covered them with the linen she was mending, and went to get the rest of the money. When he returned, Félicie had gone to bed. Eleven o'clock struck, Martha, who was staying up to undress her mistress, was busy at Félicie's.

-Where to hide this? said Marguerite who had not resisted the pleasure of handling a few ducats, a childishness which destroyed her.

- I will lift this marble column whose base is hollow, said Emmanuel, you will slide the scrolls in there, and the devil will not go looking for them there.

At the moment when Marguerite was making her penultimate journey from the worker to the column, she uttered a piercing cry, dropped the scrolls, the pieces of which broke the paper and scattered on the floor: her father was at the door of the parlor, and showed his head, the eager expression of which frightened him.

- So what are you doing here? he said, looking in turn at his daughter who was pinned to the floor in fear, and at the young man who had suddenly stood up, but whose attitude towards the column was quite significant. The crash of the gold on the floor was horrible and its scattering seemed prophetic. - I wasn't wrong, said Balthazar, sitting down, I had heard the sound of gold.

He was no less moved than the two young people whose hearts palpitated so well in unison that their movements could be heard like the strokes of a pendulum swing in the midst of the profound silence which suddenly reigned in the parlor.

- I thank you, Monsieur de Solis, said Marguerite to Emmanuel, giving him a look which meant: Help me, to save this sum.

- What, this gold... summarized Balthazar, casting a look of terrible lucidity at his daughter and at Emmanuel.

- This gold belongs to the gentleman who is kind enough to lend it to me to honor our commitments, she replied.

Monsieur de Solis blushed and wanted to go out.

“Sir,” said Balthazar, stopping him by the arm, “don’t shy away from my thanks.

-Sir, you owe me nothing. This money belongs to Mademoiselle Marguerite who borrows it from me from her property, he replied, looking at his mistress who thanked him with an imperceptible blink of her eyelids.

- I will not put up with that, said Claës, who took a pen and a sheet of paper from the table where Félicie was writing, and turning towards the two astonished young people: - How many are there? Passion had made Balthazar more cunning than the most skillful of rascally stewards would have been; the sum was going to be his. Marguerite and Monsieur de Solis hesitated. “Let’s count,” he said.

- There are six thousand ducats, replied Emmanuel.

“Seventy thousand francs,” Claës continued.

The look that Marguerite gave her lover gave her courage.

- Sir, he said trembling, your commitment is worthless, forgive me this technical purely expression; This morning I lent Mademoiselle one hundred thousand francs to buy back bills of exchange that you were unable to pay, so you could not give me any guarantee. These one hundred and seventy thousand francs belong to Mademoiselle your daughter who can dispose of them as she sees fit, but I only lend them to her on the promise she made to me to subscribe to a contract with which I can take my security on its share in the bare land of Waignies.

Marguerite turned her head away so as not to show the tears that came to her eyes, she knew the purity of heart that distinguished Emmanuel. Raised by his uncle in the strictest practice of religious virtues, the young man had a special horror of lying; after having offered his life and his heart to Marguerite, he was still making the sacrifice of his conscience to her.

- Farewell, sir, said Balthazar to him, I thought you had more confidence in a man who saw you with the eyes of a father.

After exchanging a deplorable look with Marguerite, Emmanuel was taken back by Martha who closed the street door. When the father and daughter were alone, Claës said to his daughter: - You love me, don't you?

- Don't take any detours, father. You want this sum, you won't get it.

She began to collect the ducats, her father silently helped her collect them and check the amount she had sown, and Marguerite let him do so without showing the slightest distrust. The two thousand ducats put back into the pile, Balthazar said with a desperate air: - Marguerite, I need this gold!

“It would be a theft if you took it,” she replied coldly. Listen, father: it is better to kill us with one blow than to make us suffer a thousand deaths every day. See, which of you, which of us must succumb.
“So you will have murdered your father,” he continued.

“We will have avenged our mother,” she said, pointing to the place where Madame Claës had died.

- My daughter, if you knew what it was about, you would not say such words to me. Listen, I'll explain the problem to you... But you won't understand me? he cried in despair. Finally, give! believe in your father once. Yes, I know that I hurt your mother; that I have wasted, to use the word of the ignorant, my fortune and squandered yours; that you all work for what you call madness; but, my angel, my beloved, my love, my Marguerite, listen to me? If I do not succeed, I give myself to you, I will obey you as you should obey me; I will do your will, I will hand over the management of my fortune to you, I will no longer be the guardian of my children, I will strip myself of all authority.

I swear it by your mother, he said, shedding tears. Marguerite turned her head away so as not to see this crying face, and Claës threw himself at his daughter's knees, believing that she was going to give in. - Marguerite, Marguerite! give, give! What are sixty thousand francs to avoid eternal remorse? You see, I will die, this will kill me. Listen to me ? my word will be sacred. If I fail, I give up my work, I will leave Flanders, France itself, if you demand it, and I will go to work as a laborer in order to rebuild my fortune penny by penny and one day bring back to my children this that Science will have taken from them. Marguerite wanted to lift her father, but he persisted in remaining at her knees, and he added, crying: - Be tender and devoted one last time? If I don't succeed, I myself will prove you right in your harshness. You will call me old fool! you will call me a bad father! Finally you will tell me that I am ignorant! When I hear these words, I will kiss your hands. You can beat me, if you want; and when you hit me, I will bless you like the best daughter, remembering that you gave me your blood!

- If it were only my blood, I would give it back to you, she cried, but can I let Science kill my brother and my sister? No! Stop, stop, she said, wiping her tears and pushing away her father's caressing hands.

“Sixty thousand francs and two months,” he said, getting up angrily, “that’s all I need; but my daughter puts herself between glory, between wealth and me. Be cursed! he added. You are neither a girl nor a woman, you have no heart, you will neither be a mother nor a wife, he added. Let me take it? say, my dear little one, my darling child, I will adore you, he added, putting his hand on the gold with a movement of atrocious energy.

- I am defenseless against force, but God and the great Claës see us! said Marguerite, pointing to the portrait.

- Hey! Well, try living covered in your father's blood, cried Balthazar, giving him a look of horror. He stood up, looked around the parlor, and went out slowly. On arriving at the door, he turned around like a beggar and questioned his daughter with a gesture to which Marguerite responded by nodding negatively. - Farewell, my daughter, he said gently, try to live happily.

When he had disappeared, Marguerite remained in a stupor which had the effect of isolating her from the earth, she was no longer in the parlor, she no longer felt her body, she had wings, and was flying in the spaces of the world. moral where everything is immense, where thought brings distances and times together, where some divine hand lifts the canvas stretched over the future. It seemed to him that whole days passed between each of the steps his father took as he climbed the stairs; then she shuddered with horror the moment she heard him enter her room. Guided by a presentiment which filled her soul with the poignant clarity of lightning, she crossed the stairs, without light, without noise, with the velocity of an arrow, and saw her father adjusting his forehead with a pistol.

- Take everything, she shouted to him, rushing towards him.

She fell into an armchair. Balthazar, seeing her pale, began to cry as old men cry; he became a child again, he kissed her on the forehead, said unrelated words to her, he was close to jumping for joy, and seemed to want to play with her as a lover plays with his mistress after having obtained happiness.

-Enough! enough, father, she said, think of your promise! If you don't succeed, you will obey me!

- Yes.

- O my mother, she said, turning towards Madame Claës' room, you would have given everything, wouldn't you?

- Sleep in peace, said Balthazar, you are a good girl.

- Sleep! she said, I no longer have the nights of my youth; you are making me old, my father, as you have slowly withered my mother's heart.

- Poor child, I would like to reassure you by explaining to you the effects of the magnificent experience that I have just imagined, you would understand...

“I only understand our ruin,” she said as she left.

The next morning, which was a day off, Emmanuel de Solis brought Jean.

- Hey! GOOD? he said sadly as he approached Marguerite.

- I gave in, she replied.

“My dear life,” he said with a movement of melancholy joy, “if you had resisted, I would have admired you; but weak, I adore you!

- Poor, poor Emmanuel, what will we have left?

- Leave it to me, cried the young man radiantly, we love each other, everything will be fine!

A few months passed in perfect tranquility, Monsieur de Solis made Marguerite understand that her meager savings would never constitute a fortune, and advised her to live comfortably by taking, to maintain abundance at home, money which remained on the sum of which he had been the depositary. During this time, Marguerite was given over to the anxieties which had formerly agitated her mother in similar circumstances. However unbelieving she may have been, she had come to hope in her father's genius.

By an inexplicable phenomenon, many people have hope without having faith. Hope is the flower of Desire, faith is the fruit of Certainty. Marguerite said to herself: - If my father succeeds, we will be happy! “Claës and Lemulquinier alone said: – “We will succeed! "Unfortunately, from day to day, this man's face grew sadder. When he came to dinner, he sometimes did not dare look at his daughter and sometimes he also cast looks of triumph at her. Marguerite spent her evenings getting explanations from the young of Solis several legal difficulties. She overwhelmed her father with questions about their family relations.

Finally she completed her manly education, she was obviously preparing to execute the plan she was meditating if her father succumbed once again in his duel with the Unknown (X ) .

At the beginning of July, Balthazar spent a whole day sitting on his garden bench, immersed in sad meditation. He looked several times at the mound void of tulips, at the windows of his wife's bedroom; he undoubtedly shuddered when thinking of all that his struggle had cost him: his movements attested to thoughts outside of Science. Marguerite came to sit and work near him a few moments before dinner.

- Hey! well, father, you have not succeeded.

- No, my child.

- Oh! said Marguerite in a soft voice, I will not address the slightest reproach to you, we are equally guilty. I will only request the execution of your word, it must be sacred, you are a Claës. Your children will surround you with love and respect; but today you belong to me, and owe me obedience. Don't worry, my reign will be sweet, and I will even work to bring it to an end quickly. I'm taking Martha, I'm leaving you for about a month, and to take care of you; for, she said, kissing his forehead, you are my child. Tomorrow, Félicie will lead the house. The poor child is only seventeen, she would not be able to resist you; be generous, don't ask her for a penny, because she will only have what she needs strictly for household expenses. Have courage, give up your work and your thoughts for two or three years. The problem will mature, I will have raised the money for you to solve it, and you will solve it. Hey! Well, isn't your queen merciful?

“All is not lost,” said the old man.

- No, if you are true to your word.

- I will obey you, my daughter, replied Claës with deep emotion.

The next day, Mr. Conyncks from Cambrai came to pick up his great-niece. He was in a traveling carriage, and only wanted to stay with his cousin for the time necessary for Marguerite and Martha to make their arrangements. Monsieur Claës received his cousin affably, but he was visibly sad and humiliated. Old Conyncks guessed Balthazar's thoughts, and while eating lunch, he said to him with great frankness: - I have some of your paintings, cousin, I have a taste for beautiful paintings, it's a ruinous passion. ; but, we all have our madness...

-Dear Uncle! said Marguerite.

“You seem to be ruined, cousin, but a Claës always has treasures there,” he said, slapping his forehead. And there, isn't it? he added, pointing to his heart. So I am counting on you! I found a few crowns in my purse which I put at your service.

- Ha! exclaimed Balthazar, I will return treasures to you...

“The only treasures we have in Flanders, cousin, are patience and work,” replied Conyncks severely. Our elder has these two words engraved on his forehead, he said, showing him the portrait of President Van Claës.

Marguerite kissed her father, bade him farewell, gave her recommendations to Josette and Félicie, and left for Paris. The widowed great-uncle had only a twelve-year-old daughter and had an immense fortune, so it was not impossible that he wanted to get married; so the inhabitants of Douai believed that Mademoiselle Claës was marrying her great-uncle. The rumor of this rich marriage brought Pierquin the notary back to the Claës. There had been great changes in the ideas of this excellent calculator. For two years, the city's society had been divided into two enemy camps. The nobility had formed a first circle, and the bourgeoisie a second, naturally very hostile to the first.

This sudden separation which took place throughout France and divided it into two enemy nations, whose jealous irritations grew, was one of the main reasons which led to the adoption of the revolution of July 1830 in the provinces. Between these two societies, one of which was ultra-monarchical and the other ultra-liberal, were the civil servants admitted, according to their importance, in both worlds, and who, at the time of the fall of legitimate power, were neutral. At the beginning of the struggle between the nobility and the bourgeoisie, the Royalist Cafés acquired an incredible splendor, and competed so brilliantly with the Liberal Cafés, that these kinds of gastronomic festivals cost, it is said, the lives of several people who, similar to poorly melted mortars could not withstand these exercises. Naturally, the two companies became exclusive and purified.

Although very rich for a man from the provinces, Pierquin was excluded from aristocratic circles and pushed back into those of the bourgeoisie. His self-esteem had to suffer greatly from the successive failures he received as he saw himself gradually rejected by the people with whom he had previously associated. He had reached the age of forty, the only time in life when men who are destined for marriage can still marry young people. The parties to which he could aspire belonged to the bourgeoisie, and his ambition tended to remain in the upper world, where a beautiful alliance was to introduce him. The isolation in which the Claës family lived had made them foreign to this social movement. Although Claës belonged to the old aristocracy of the province, it was likely that his concerns would prevent him from obeying the antipathies created by this new classification of people. However poor she might be, a Miss Claës brought to her husband that fortune of vanity that all upstarts desire. Pierquin therefore returned to the Claës with a secret intention of making the necessary sacrifices to achieve the conclusion of a marriage which would now realize all his ambitions.

He kept Balthazar and Félicie company during Marguerite's absence, but he belatedly recognized a formidable competitor in Emmanuel de Solis. The estate of the late abbot was thought to be considerable; and, in the eyes of a man who naively calculated all the things in life, the young heir seemed more powerful by his money than by the seductions of the heart which Pierquin never worried about. This fortune gave the name of Solis all its value. Gold and nobility were like two candlesticks which, lighting up each other, redoubled in brilliance.

The sincere affection that the young principal showed to Félicie, whom he treated like a sister, aroused the emulation of the notary. He tried to eclipse Emmanuel by mixing fashionable jargon and expressions of superficial gallantry with the dreamy airs and concerned elegies which suited his countenance so well. Saying he was disenchanted with everything in the world, he turned his eyes towards Félicie in such a way as to make her believe that she alone could reconcile him with life. Félicie, to whom for the first time a man addressed compliments, listened to this language which was always so sweet, even when it was false; she mistook emptiness for depth, and, in the need which oppressed her to fix the vague feelings with which her heart overflowed, she occupied herself with her cousin. Jealous, perhaps unknowingly, of the loving attentions that Emmanuel lavished on her sister, she undoubtedly wanted to see herself, like herself, the object of a man's gaze, thoughts and care.

Pierquin easily discerned the preference that Félicie gave him over Emmanuel, and this was a reason for him to persist in his efforts, so much so that he committed himself more than he wanted to. Emmanuel watched the beginnings of this passion, perhaps false in the notary, naive in Félicie whose future was at stake. There followed, between the cousin and the cousin, some gentle chats, a few words said in a low voice behind them. of Emmanuel, finally of those little disappointments which give to a look, to a word an expression whose insidious gentleness can cause innocent errors.

Thanks to the commerce that Pierquin maintained with Félicie, he tried to penetrate the secret of the journey undertaken by Marguerite, in order to know if it was a question of marriage and if he should give up his hopes; but, despite his great finesse, neither Balthazar nor Félicie could shed any light on him, for the reason that they knew nothing of the projects of Marguerite who, in taking power, seemed to have followed the maxims by keeping quiet about her projects. Balthazar's sadness and his collapse made the evenings difficult to spend. Although Emmanuel had succeeded in making the chemist play backgammon, Balthazar was distracted;and most of the time this man, so great in his intelligence, seemed stupid. Fallen from his hopes, humiliated by having devoured three fortunes, a gambler without money, he was bending under the weight of his ruins, under the burden of his hopes less destroyed than disappointed. This man of genius, muzzled by necessity, condemning himself, presented a truly tragic spectacle which would have touched the most insensitive man.

Pierquin himself did not contemplate without a feeling of respect this caged lion, whose eyes, full of repressed power, had become calm from sadness, dull from light; whose looks asked for an alms that their mouths did not dare to utter. Sometimes a flash of lightning passed over this dry face which was revived by the conception of a new experience; then, if, while contemplating the parlor, Balthazar's eyes stopped at the place where his wife had expired, light tears rolled like ardent grains of sand in the desert of his pupils, which thought made immense, and his head fell on his chest. He had lifted the world like a Titan, and the world came back heavier on his chest. This gigantic pain, so virilely contained, acted on Pierquin and Emmanuel who, sometimes, felt moved enough to want to offer this man the sum necessary for some series of experiences;

The convictions of genius are so communicative! Both understood how Madame Claës and Marguerite could have thrown millions into this abyss; but reason quickly stopped the impulses of the heart; and their emotions translated into consolations which further embittered the sorrows of this struck Titan. Claës did not speak of his eldest daughter, and was not worried by her absence, nor by the silence she kept by not writing to him or to Félicie. When Solis or Pierquin asked him for news, he seemed unpleasantly affected. Did he sense that Marguerite was acting against him? Did he find himself humiliated by having resigned the majestic rights of paternity to his child? Had he come to love her less because she was going to be the father, and he the child? Perhaps there were many of these reasons and many of these inexpressible feelings which pass like clouds through the soul, in the silent disgrace which he brought to bear on Marguerite. However great the great men, known or unknown, may be, happy or unhappy in their attempts, they have pettinesses through which they hold on to humanity. By a double misfortune, they suffer no less from their qualities than from their faults, and perhaps Balthazar had to familiarize himself with the pains of his wounded vanities.

The life he led, and the evenings during which these four people were reunited in Marguerite's absence, were therefore a life and evenings marked by sadness, filled with vague apprehensions. These were infertile days like parched moors, where nevertheless they gleaned a few flowers, rare consolations. The atmosphere seemed foggy in the absence of the eldest daughter, who had become the soul, the hope and the strength of this family. Two months passed like this, during which Balthazar waited patiently for his daughter. Marguerite was brought back to Douai by her uncle, who remained at home instead of returning to Cambrai, undoubtedly to support with his authority some coup d'état meditated by his niece. It was a little family celebration when Marguerite returned.

The notary and Monsieur de Solis had been invited to dinner by Félicie and Balthazar. When the traveling carriage stopped in front of the door of the house, these four people came to receive the travelers with great demonstrations of joy. Marguerite seemed happy to see her father's home again, her eyes filled with tears when she crossed the courtyard to reach the parlor. While kissing her father, her girlish caresses were not without ulterior motives; she blushed like a guilty wife who does not know how to pretend; but her gaze regained its purity when she looked at Monsieur de Solis, from whom she seemed to draw the strength to complete the enterprise she had secretly formed. During dinner, despite the joy which animated the faces and the words, the father and the daughter examined each other with distrust and curiosity. Balthazar did not ask Marguerite any questions about her stay in Paris, no doubt out of paternal dignity.

Emmanuel de Solis imitated this reserve. But Pierquin, who was used to knowing all the family secrets, said to Marguerite, covering his curiosity with false good-nature: - Eh! well, dear cousin, you have seen Paris, the shows... she blushed like a guilty wife who cannot pretend; but her gaze regained its purity when she looked at Monsieur de Solis, from whom she seemed to draw the strength to complete the enterprise she had secretly formed. During dinner, despite the joy which animated the faces and the words, the father and the daughter examined each other with distrust and curiosity. Balthazar did not ask Marguerite any questions about her stay in Paris, no doubt out of paternal dignity. Emmanuel de Solis imitated this reserve. But Pierquin, who was used to knowing all the family secrets, said to Marguerite, covering his curiosity with false good-nature: - Eh! well, dear cousin, you have seen Paris, the shows...she blushed like a guilty wife who cannot pretend; but her gaze regained its purity when she looked at Monsieur de Solis, from whom she seemed to draw the strength to complete the enterprise she had secretly formed. During dinner, despite the joy which animated the faces and the words, the father and the daughter examined each other with distrust and curiosity. Balthazar did not ask Marguerite any questions about her stay in Paris, no doubt out of paternal dignity. Emmanuel de Solis imitated this reserve. But Pierquin, who was used to knowing all the family secrets, said to Marguerite, covering his curiosity with false good-nature: - Eh! well, dear cousin, you have seen Paris, the shows...

- I didn't see anything in Paris, she replied, I didn't go there to have fun. The days passed sadly for me, I was too impatient to see Douai again.

- If I hadn't gotten angry, she wouldn't have come to the Opera, where in fact she was bored! said Mr. Conyncks.

The evening was painful, everyone was embarrassed, smiled badly or tried to show that cheerful cheerfulness beneath which real anxieties were hidden. Marguerite and Balthazar were prey to dull and cruel apprehensions which reacted on their hearts. The more the evening progressed, the more the faces of the father and daughter changed. Sometimes Marguerite tried to smile, but her gestures, her looks, the sound of her voice betrayed deep concern. Messrs. Conyncks and de Solis seemed to know the cause of the secret movements which agitated this noble girl, and seemed to encourage her with expressive glances.

Hurt at having been left out of a resolution and steps taken for him, Balthazar gradually separated himself from his children and his friends, pretending to remain silent. Marguerite would no doubt tell him what she had decided about him. For a big man, for a father, this situation was intolerable. Having reached an age where one hides nothing among his children, where the breadth of ideas gives strength to feelings, he became more and more serious, pensive and sad, as he saw the moment approaching. of his civil death. This evening contained one of those crises of the inner life which can only be explained by images. Clouds and lightning were gathering in the sky, people were laughing in the countryside; everyone was hot, felt the storm, raised their heads and continued on their way. Mr. Conyncks was the first to go to bed and was taken to his room by Balthazar. During his absence, Pierquin and Monsieur de Solis left. Marguerite said an affectionate farewell to the notary; she said nothing to Emmanuel, but she pressed his hand and cast a moist look at him. She felt Félicie away, and when Claës returned to the parlour, he found his daughter alone there.

- My good father, she said to him in a trembling voice, it took the serious circumstances we are in to make me leave the house; but, after much anguish and after having overcome incredible difficulties, I return with some chances of salvation for us all. Thanks to your name, the influence of our uncle and the protection of Monsieur de Solis, we have obtained, for you, a position as receiver of finances in Brittany; it is worth, it is said, eighteen to twenty thousand francs per year. Our uncle made the bond.

- Here is your nomination, she said, pulling a letter from her bag. Your stay here, during our years of deprivation and sacrifice, would be intolerable. Our father must remain in a situation at least equal to that in which he has always lived. I will not ask you anything about your income, you will use it as you see fit. I only beg you to remember that we do not have a penny of income, and that we will all live on what Gustave ["Gustave" for "Gabriel". Balzac's inadvertence repeated later.] will give us about his income. The city will know nothing of this cloistered life. If you were at home, you would be an obstacle to the means that my sister and I will use to try to restore comfort there. Is it abusing the authority you have given me to put yourself in a position to rebuild your fortune yourself? In a few years, if you want, you will be Receiver General.

- So, Marguerite, said Balthazar gently, you are driving me out of my house.

- I do not deserve such a harsh reproach, replied the girl, suppressing the tumultuous movements of her heart. You will come back to us when you can live in your hometown as it suits you to appear there.

Besides, my father, do I not have your word? she continued coldly. You must obey me. My uncle stayed to take you to Brittany, so that you would not make the journey alone.

- I won't go, cried Balthazar, getting up, I don't need anyone's help to restore my fortune and pay what I owe to my children.

“It will be better,” Marguerite continued without being moved. I would ask you to think about our respective situations which I will explain to you in a few words. If you stay in this house, your children will leave it, in order to leave you the master.

-Daisy! cried Balthazar.

- Then, she said, continuing without wanting to notice her father's irritation, you must inform the minister of your refusal, if you do not accept a lucrative and honorable position which, despite our efforts and our protections, we will not accept. would not have had without a few thousand franc notes skillfully put by my uncle in a lady's glove...

- Leave me!

-Either you will leave us or we will flee you, she said. If I were your only child, I would imitate my mother, without murmuring against the fate you would do to me. But my sister and my two brothers will not perish of hunger or despair near you; I promised it to the one who died there, she said, pointing to the place of her mother's bed. We hid our pain from you, we suffered in silence, today our strength has worn out. We are not on the edge of an abyss, we are at the bottom, my. father! To get through it, we not only need courage, we also need our efforts not to be constantly thwarted by the whims of a passion...

- My dear children! cried Balthazar, grabbing Marguerite's hand, "I will help you, I will work, I...

- Here are the means, she replied, handing him the ministerial letter.

- But, my angel, the means you offer me to rebuild my fortune is too slow! you are making me lose the fruit of ten years of work, and the enormous sums that my laboratory represents. There, he said, indicating the attic, are all our resources.

Marguerite walked towards the door saying: - Father, you will choose!

- Oh! my daughter, you are very tough! he replied, sitting down in an armchair and letting her go.
The next morning, Marguerite learned from Lemulquinier that Monsieur Claës had gone out. This simple made her turn pale, and her countenance was so cruelly significant announcement that the old valet said to her: - Be calm, mademoiselle, the gentleman said that he would be back at eleven o'clock for lunch. He didn't go to bed. At two o'clock in the morning, he was still standing in the parlor, looking out of the windows at the roofs of the laboratory. I was waiting in the kitchen, I saw him, he was crying, he is sad. Here is this famous month of July during which the sun is able to enrich us all, and if you wanted...

-Enough! said Marguerite, guessing all the thoughts which must have attacked her father.

It was in fact accomplished in Balthazar this phenomenon which takes hold of all sedentary people, his life dependent, so to speak, on the places with which he had identified himself, his thought married to his laboratory and his house made them available to him. essential, as is the Stock Exchange for the player for whom public holidays are wasted days. There were his hopes, there descended from the sky the only atmosphere from which his lungs could draw vital air. This alliance of places and things between men, so powerful among weak natures, becomes almost tyrannical among people of science and study. To leave his house was, for Balthazar, to renounce Science, to his problem, was to die. Marguerite was extremely agitated until lunchtime. The scene that had led Balthazar to want to kill himself had come back to her memory, and she feared that the desperate situation in which her father found himself would tragically end. She paced back and forth in the parlor, flinching every time the doorbell rang. Finally, Balthazar returned. As he crossed the courtyard, Marguerite, who studied his face with concern, saw only the expression of stormy pain. When he entered the parlour, she went towards him to wish him hello, he grabbed her affectionately by the waist, pressed her to his heart, kissed her forehead and said in her ear: - I went ask for my passport. The sound of the voice, the resigned look, the movement of her father, everything crushed the heart of the poor girl who turned her head away so as not to show her tears; but not being able to repress them, she went into the garden, and returned after having cried there at her ease. During lunch, Balthazar appeared cheerful like a man who had made up his mind.

- So we are going to leave for Brittany, uncle, he said to Mr. Conyncks. I have always wanted to see this country.

- We live cheaply there, replied the old uncle.

- My father leaves us? cried Congratulations.

Monsieur de Solis entered, he brought Jean.

- You will leave him with us today, said Balthazar, putting his son next to him, I am leaving tomorrow, and I want to say goodbye to him.

Emmanuel looked at Marguerite who lowered her head. It was a dreary day, during which everyone was sad, and suppressed thoughts or tears. It was not an absence, but an exile. Then, everyone instinctively felt how humiliating it was for a father to publicly declare his disasters in accepting a job and leaving his family at Balthazar's age. He alone was as great as Marguerite was firm, and seemed to nobly accept this penance for the faults which the passion of genius had made him commit. When the evening was over and the father and daughter were alone, Balthazar who, throughout the day. had shown himself to be tender and affectionate, as he was during the good days of his patriarchal life, held out his hand to Marguerite, and said to her with a sort of tenderness mixed with despair: - Are you happy with your father?

“You are worthy of that one,” replied Marguerite, showing him the portrait of Van-Claës.

The next morning, Balthazar, followed by Lemulquinier, went up to his laboratory as if to say goodbye to the hopes he had cherished and which his operations had begun to represent to him alive. The master and the servant cast a look at each other full of melancholy as they entered the attic which they were going to leave perhaps forever. Balthazar contemplated these machines on which his thoughts had hovered for so long, and each of which was linked to the memory of a research or an experience. He sadly ordered Lemulquinier to evaporate dangerous gases or acids, to separate substances which could have produced explosions. While taking these cares, he uttered bitter regrets, such as those condemned to death express, before going to the scaffold.

- Here, however, he said, stopping in front of a capsule in which the two wires of a Volta battery were immersed, an experiment whose result should be expected. If she succeeded, a terrible thought! my children would not chase out of his house a father who threw diamonds at their feet. Here is a combination of carbon and sulfur, he added, speaking to himself, in which the carbon plays the role of electro-positive body; crystallization must begin at the negative pole; and, in the case of decomposition, the carbon would crystallize there...

- Oh! It would be done like that, said Lemulquinier, contemplating his master with admiration.

- Now, continued Balthazar after a pause, the combination is subject to the influence of this battery which can act...

- If sir wants, I will increase the effect...

- No, no, you have to leave it as it is. Rest and time are essential conditions for crystallization...

“Parbleu, this crystallization has to take its time,” cried the valet.

- If the temperature drops, the carbon disulphide will crystallize, said Balthazar, continuing to express in fragments the indistinct thoughts of a complete meditation in his understanding; but if the action of the battery operates under certain conditions that I don't know... This should be monitored... it is possible... But what was I thinking? It's no longer about Chemistry, my friend, we have to go and manage a recipe in Brittany.

Claës left quickly, and went downstairs to have a last family lunch attended by Pierquin and Monsieur de Solis. Balthazar, eager to put an end to his scientific agony, said goodbye to his children and got into the car with his uncle, the whole family accompanied him to the doorstep. There, when Marguerite had embraced her father in a desperate embrace, to which he responded by saying in her ear: - "You are a good girl, and I will never hold it against you!" she crossed the courtyard, running away. in the parlour, knelt in the place where his mother had died, and made an ardent prayer to God for the strength to accomplish the hard work of his new life. She was already strengthened by an inner voice which had brought into her heart the applause of the angels and the thanks of her mother, when her sister, her brother, Emmanuel and Pierquin returned after having looked at the carriage until they screw it more.

- Now, miss, what are you going to do? Pierquin told him.

“Save the house,” she replied simply. We own nearly thirteen hundred acres in Waignies. My intention is to have them cleared, divided into three farms, build the buildings necessary for their exploitation, rent them; and I believe that in a few years, with a lot of economy and patience, each of us,” she said, pointing to her sister and brother, “will have a farm of four hundred and some acres which could one day be worth almost an income of fifteen thousand francs. My brother Gustave ["Gustave" for "Gabriel".

Inadvertence of Balzac.] will for his part keep this house and what he owns on the Grand-Livre. Then one day we will return to our father his fortune free of all obligations by devoting our income to paying his debts.

- But, dear cousin, said the notary, stunned by this business arrangement and Marguerite's cold reason, you need more than two hundred thousand francs to clear your land, build your farms and buy livestock.

Where will you get this money?

- That's where my embarrassment begins, she said, looking alternately at the notary and Mr. de Solis, I don't dare ask my uncle who has already given my father's guarantee!

- You have friends! cried Pierquin, suddenly seeing that the Claës girls would still be girls worth more than five hundred thousand francs .

Emmanuel de Solis looked at Marguerite with tenderness; but, unfortunately for him, Pierquin remained a notary in the midst of his enthusiasm and continued thus: - I am offering you these two hundred thousand francs!

Emmanuel and Marguerite consulted each other with a look which was a flash of light for Pierquin. Félicie blushed excessively, so happy was she to find her cousin as generous as she wished. She looked at her sister who, suddenly, guessed that during her absence, the poor girl had allowed herself to be taken in by some of Pierquin's banal gallantries.

- You will only pay me five percent interest, he said. You will reimburse me whenever you want, and you will give me a mortgage on your land. But rest assured, you will only have to pay the out-of-pocket expenses for all your contracts, I will find you good farmers, and will do your business for free in order to help you as a good parent.

Emmanuel made a sign to Marguerite to encourage her to refuse; but she was too busy studying the changes that nuanced her sister's countenance to notice it. After a pause, she looked at the notary with an ironic look and said to him herself, to the great joy of Monsieur de Solis: - You are a very good parent, I expected no less from you; but the five percent interest would delay our release too much, I will wait for my brother to come of age and we will sell his annuities.

Pierquin bit his lips, Emmanuel began to smile gently.

- Félicie, my dear child, take Jean back to school, Martha will accompany you, said Marguerite, pointing to her brother. - John, my angel, be good, don't tear your clothes, we are not rich enough to renew them for you as often as we did! Come on, my little one, study well.

Félicie went out with her brother.

- My cousin, said Marguerite to Pierquin, and you, sir, she said to Monsieur de Solis, you undoubtedly came to see my father during my absence, I thank you for these proofs of friendship. You probably won't do less for two poor girls who are going to need advice. Shall we agree on this?... When I am in town, I will always receive you with the greatest pleasure; but when Félicie is alone here with Josette and Martha, I don't need to tell you that she must not see anyone, even an old friend, and the most devoted of our parents. In the circumstances in which we find ourselves, our conduct must be of impeccable severity. So here we are for a long time dedicated to work and solitude.

Silence reigned for a few moments. Emmanuel, lost in contemplation of Marguerite's head, seemed silent, Pierquin didn't know what to say. The notary took leave of his cousin, feeling a surge of rage against himself: he had suddenly guessed that Marguerite loved Emmanuel, and that he had just behaved like a real fool.

- Oh! There, Pierquin, my friend, he said to himself, addressing himself in the street, a man who would tell you that you are a large animal would be right. Am I stupid? I have twelve thousand pounds left over, apart from my charge, not counting the estate of my uncle Des Racquets, of whom I am the only heir, and who will double my fortune one day or another (well, I don't don' t wish him to die, he's thrifty!)... and I have the infamy to ask Miss Claës for interest! I'm sure the two of them are laughing at me now. I don't have to think about Marguerite anymore! No.

After all, Félicie is a sweet and good little creature who suits me better. Marguerite has an iron character, she would like to dominate me, and she would dominate me! Come on, let's be generous, let's not be so much a notary, so I can't shake this harness? Paperbag, I'm going to start loving Félicie, and I'm not going to move on from that feeling! Fork! she will have a farm of four hundred and thirty acres, which, in a given time, will be worth between fifteen and twenty thousand pounds in income, because the land at Waignies is good. May my uncle Des Racquets die, poor man! I'm selling my office and I'm a fifty-thousand-year-old man. My wife is a Claës, I am allied to considerable houses.

Hell, we'll see if the Courtevilles, the Magalhens, the Savarons of Savarus will refuse to come to a Pierquin-Claës-Molina-Nourho. I will be mayor of Douai, I will have the cross, I can be a deputy, I can achieve everything. Ha! There, Pierquin, my boy, stand there, let's not do any more stupid things, especially since, my word of honor, Félicie... Mademoiselle Félicie Van-Claës, she loves you.

When the two lovers were alone, Emmanuel held out a hand to Marguerite who could not help but put her right hand in it. They stood up with a unanimous movement, heading towards their bench in the garden; but in the middle of the parlor, the lover could not resist his joy, and in a voice that made emotion tremble, he said to Marguerite: - I have three hundred thousand francs of yours!...

- How, she cried, would my poor mother have confided in you again?... No. What?

- Oh ! my Marguerite, what is mine, is it not yours? Weren't you the first to tell us ?

“Dear Emmanuel,” she said, pressing the hand she still held; and, instead of going to the garden, she threw herself into the shepherdess.

- Isn't it up to me to thank you, he said in his voice of love, since you accept.

- This moment, she said, my dear beloved, erases many pains, and brings a happy future closer! Yes, I accept your fortune, she continued, letting an angelic smile appear on her lips, I know the way to make it mine. She looked at the portrait of Van-Claës as if to have a witness. The young man who followed Marguerite's gaze did not see her take a girl's ring from her finger, and only noticed this gesture at the moment when he heard these words: - In the midst of our deep miseries, he happiness arises. My father carelessly leaves me free control of myself, she said, holding out the ring, take it, Emmanuel? My mother cherished you, she would have chosen you.

Tears came to Emmanuel's eyes, he turned pale, fell on his knees, and said to Marguerite, giving her a ring that he always wore: - Here is my mother's wedding ring! My Marguerite, he continued, kissing the ring, will I have no other pledge than this!

She bends down to bring her forehead to Emmanuel's lips.

- Alas! my poor beloved, are we not doing something wrong here? she said, very moved, because we will wait a long time.

- My uncle said that worship was the daily bread of patience, speaking of the Christian who loves God. I can love you like this, I have, for a long time, confused you with the Lord of all things: I am yours, as I am his.

They remained for several moments prey to the sweetest exaltation. It was the sincere and calm outpouring of a feeling which, like an overflowing spring, overflowed in small, incessant waves. The events which separated these two lovers were a subject of melancholy which made their happiness more vivid, by giving it something acute like pain; Félicie returned too soon for them. Emmanuel, enlightened by the delicious tact which makes you guess everything in love, left the two sisters alone, after exchanging a look with Marguerite where she could see everything that this discretion cost him, because he expressed how eager he was for this happiness desired for so long, and which had just been consecrated by the commitment of the heart.

“Come here, little sister,” said Marguerite, taking Félicie by the neck. Then, taking her back to the garden, they went to sit on the bench to which each generation had entrusted its words of love, its sighs of pain, its meditations and its plans. Despite the joyful tone and the kind finesse of her sister's smile, Félicie felt an emotion that resembled a movement of fear. Marguerite took her hand and felt it tremble.

- Mademoiselle Félicie, said the eldest, approaching her sister's ear, I read in your soul, Pierquin came often during my absence, he came every evening, he spoke sweet words to you, and you listened to them. Felicie blushed. - Don't deny it, my angel, replied Marguerite, it is so natural to love! Perhaps your dear soul will change a little the nature of the cousin, he is selfish, interested, but he is an honest man; and no doubt his faults will serve to your happiness. He will love you like the prettiest of his possessions, you will be part of his belongings. Forgive me for this word, dear friend? you will correct him from the bad habits he has acquired of seeing only interests everywhere, by teaching him the affairs of the heart. Félicie could only kiss her sister. “Besides,” continued Marguerite, “he has a fortune. His family is of the highest and oldest bourgeoisie. But would it be me who would oppose your happiness if you want to find it in a mediocre condition?...

Félicie blurted out these words: - Dear sister!

- Oh ! yes, you can confide in me, cried Marguerite. What could be more natural than telling us our secrets.

This soulful word led to one of those delightful chats in which young girls tell each other everything. When Marguerite, whom love had made an expert, had recognized the state of Félicie's heart, she ended up saying to her: - Well, my dear child, let's make sure that the cousin truly loves you; so what...
- Leave it to me, replied Félicie, laughing, I have my models.

- Crazy? said Marguerite, kissing her on the forehead.

Although Pierquin belonged to that class of men who see in marriage obligations, the execution of social laws and a mode for the transmission of property; that it would be indifferent to him whether he married Félicie or Marguerite, if one or the other had the same name and the same dowry; he nevertheless noticed that both were, according to one of his expressions, romantic and sentimental girls , two adjectives that heartless people use to mock the gifts that nature sows with a parsimonious hand through the furrows of the humanity; the notary undoubtedly said to himself that he must be howling with the wolves; and, the next day, he came to see Marguerite, he mysteriously took her into the little garden, and began to talk about sentiment, since it was one of the clauses of the original contract which was to precede, in the laws of the world , the notarial contract.

- Dear cousin, he said to her, we have not always been of the same opinion on the means to take to achieve the happy conclusion of your affairs; but you must recognize today that I have always been guided by a great desire to be useful to you. Hey! well, yesterday I spoiled my offers by a fatal habit that the notary mind gives us, do you understand?... My heart was not complicity in my stupidity. I liked you very much; but we have a certain insight, we others, and I realized that you didn't like me. It's my fault! Another was more skillful than me. Hey! well, I come to confess to you quite frankly that I feel a real love for your sister Félicie. So treat me like a brother? draw from my purse, take from it! Come on, the more you take, the more friendship you will show me. I am all yours, without interest , do you hear?

neither twelve nor a quarter percent. May I be found worthy of Félicie and I will be happy. Forgive me my faults, they only come from business practice, the heart is good, and I would throw myself into the Scarpe, rather than not make my wife happy.

- That's good, cousin! said Marguerite, but my sister depends on her and our father...

- I know that, my dear cousin, said the notary, but you are the mother of the whole family, and I have nothing more at heart than to make you judge of mine .

This way of speaking paints the spirit of the honest notary quite well. Later, Pierquin became famous for his response to the commander of the Saint-Omer camp who had asked him to attend a military celebration, and which was thus conceived: Monsieur Pierquin-Claës de Molina-Nourho, mayor of the town of Douai, knight of the Legion of Honor, will have the right to surrender, etc.

Marguerite accepted the assistance of the notary, but only in everything that concerned her profession, so as not to compromise in any way either her dignity as a woman, nor the future of her sister, nor the determinations of her father. That very day she entrusted her sister to the care of Josette and Martha, who devoted themselves body and soul to their young mistress, supporting her economic plans. Marguerite immediately left for Waignies where she began her operations which were skillfully directed by Pierquin.

The dedication had been quantified in the notary's mind as an excellent speculation, his care, his pains were then in a way a down payment that he did not want to spare. First, he tried to spare Marguerite the trouble of clearing and plowing the land intended for farms. He noticed three young sons of rich farmers who wanted to settle down, he seduced them with the prospect that the wealth of this land offered them, and succeeded in getting them to lease the three farms that were going to be built. In return for giving up the price of the farm for three years, the farmers agreed to give ten thousand francs in rent in the fourth year, twelve thousand in the sixth, and fifteen thousand during the remainder of the lease; to dig ditches, plant crops and buy livestock.

While the farms were being built, the farmers came to clear their land. Four years after Balthazar's departure, Marguerite had already almost restored the fortunes of her brother and sister. Two hundred thousand francs were enough to pay for all the construction. Neither help nor advice was lacking for this courageous girl whose conduct excited the admiration of the city. Marguerite supervised her buildings, the execution of her contracts and her leases with this common sense, this activity, this constancy that women know how to display when they are driven by a great feeling. From the fifth year, she was able to devote thirty thousand francs of income from the farms, her brother's income and the proceeds of her father's property, to paying off the mortgaged capital and repairing the damage that Balthazar's passion had caused. made in his house. The amortization therefore had to proceed quickly through the decrease in interest. Emmanuel de Solis also offered Marguerite the hundred thousand francs which remained from her uncle's estate and which she had not used, adding around twenty thousand francs from her savings, so that, from the third year of his management, it was able to pay off a fairly large sum of debts. This life of courage, deprivation and dedication was not denied for five years; but everything was successful and successful, under the administration and influence of Marguerite.

Having become a road engineer, Gabriel, helped by his great-uncle, made a quick fortune in the business of a canal which he built, and knew how to please his cousin Miss Conyncks, whom his father adored and one of the richest heiresses of the two Flanders. In 1824, Claës' property was found free, and the house on rue de Paris had made up for its losses. Pierquin positively asked for the hand of Félicie from Balthazar, just as Monsieur de Solis requested that of Marguerite.

At the beginning of January 1825, Marguerite and Mr. Conyncks left to look for the exiled father, whose return everyone greatly desired, and who resigned in order to remain among his family whose happiness was about to receive its sanction. In the absence of Marguerite, who had often expressed regret at not being able to fill the empty frames of the gallery and reception apartments, for the day when her father would take over his house, Pierquin and Monsieur de Solis plotted with Félicie to prepare for Marguerite has a surprise which would make the younger sister participate in some way in the restoration of the Claës house. Both had bought several beautiful paintings from Félicie which they gave to her to decorate the gallery. Mr. Conyncks had the same idea.

Wanting to show Marguerite the satisfaction that her noble conduct and her dedication to fulfilling the mandate that her mother had bequeathed to him, he had taken measures to bring in around fifty of his most beautiful paintings and some of those that Balthazar had previously been sold, so that the Claës gallery was completely refurbished. Marguerite had already come several times to see her father, accompanied by her sister, or by Jean; each time, she had found him progressively more changed; but since his last visit, old age had manifested itself in Balthazar by frightening symptoms to the seriousness of which undoubtedly contributed the parsimony with which he lived in order to be able to use the greater part of his salary to carry out experiments which always disappointed. his hope. Although he was only sixty-five years old, he had the appearance of an octogenarian.

His eyes had sunk deep into their sockets, his eyebrows had turned white, a few hairs barely covered the back of his neck; he let his beard grow, which he cut with scissors when it bothered him; he was bent like an old winegrower; then the disorder of his clothes had taken on a character of misery which decrepitude made hideous. Although a strongly thought animated this large face whose features were no longer visible beneath the wrinkles, the fixity of the gaze, a desperate air, a constant worry engraved on it the diagnoses of dementia, or rather of all dementias together. Sometimes there appeared a hope which gave Balthazar the expression of a monomaniac; sometimes the impatience of not guessing a secret which presented itself to him like a will-o'-the-wisp gave him the symptoms of fury; then suddenly a burst of laughter betrayed madness, and most of the time the most complete dejection summed up all the nuances of his passion in the cold melancholy of the idiot.

However fleeting and imperceptible these expressions were to outsiders, they were unfortunately too sensitive for those who knew a Claës sublime in goodness, big in heart, beautiful in face and of which there were only rare vestiges. Aged, tired like his master by constant work, Lemulquinier had not had to endure the fatigue of thinking like him; also his physiognomy offered a singular mixture of concern and admiration for his master, who was easy to misunderstand: although he listened to his slightest word with respect, followed his slightest movements with a sort of tenderness. , he took care of the scholar as a mother takes care of a child; often he could seem to protect him, because he truly protected him in the vulgar necessities of life that Balthazar never thought about. These two old men enveloped by an idea, confident in the reality of their hope, agitated by the same breath, one representing the envelope and the other the soul of their common existence, formed a spectacle both horrible and touching. . When Marguerite and Monsieur Conyncks arrived, they found Claës established in an inn; his successor had not been long in coming and had already taken possession of the place.

Through the concerns of Science, a desire to see his homeland, his home, his family again agitated Balthazar; his daughter's letter had announced happy events to him, he was thinking of crowning his career with a series of experiences which would finally lead him to the discovery of his problem, he therefore awaited Marguerite with excessive impatience. The girl threw herself into her father's arms, crying with joy. This time, she came to seek the reward of a painful life, and the forgiveness of her domestic glory. She felt criminal in the way of great men who violated freedoms to save the homeland. But as she contemplated her father, she shuddered as she recognized the changes which, since his last visit, had taken place in him. Conyncks shared his niece's secret fear, and insisted on taking his cousin as soon as possible to Douai where the influence of the homeland could restore him to reason and health, returning him to the happy life of the domestic heart.

After the first outpourings of heart which were more lively on the part of Balthazar than Marguerite believed, he had singular attentions for her; he expressed regret at receiving her in a bad inn room, he inquired about her tastes, he asked her what she wanted for her meals with the eager care of a lover; he finally had the manners of a guilty person who wants to be assured of his judge. Marguerite knew her father so well that she guessed the reason for this tenderness, supposing that he might have some debts in town which he wanted to pay off before his departure. She observed her father for some time, and then saw the human heart exposed. Balthazar had shrunk. The feeling of his degradation, the isolation in which Science placed him, had made him timid and childish in all questions foreign to his favorite occupations; his eldest daughter imposed on him the memory of his past devotion, the strength she had displayed, the awareness of the power he had allowed her to take, the fortune she had at her disposal and the indefinable feelings which had taken possession of him, since the day he abdicated his already compromised paternity, his paternity had undoubtedly grown day by day.

Conyncks seemed to be nothing in the eyes of Balthazar, he only saw his daughter and thought only of her while appearing to fear her as certain weak husbands fear the superior woman who has subjugated them; When he looked up at her, Marguerite was painfully surprised to see an expression of fear, similar to that of a child who feels guilty. The noble girl did not know how to reconcile the majestic and terrible expression of this skull devastated by Science and by work, with the childish smile, with the naive servility which was painted on the lips and the physiognomy of Balthazar.She was hurt by the contrast presented by this grandeur and this smallness, and promised herself to use her influence to make her father regain all his dignity, for the solemn day when he would reappear in the bosom of his family.

First, she seized a moment when they were alone to whisper in his ear: - Do you owe anything here?

Balthazar blushed and replied with an embarrassed air: - I don't know, but Lemulquinier will tell you. This good fellow is more aware of my affairs than I am myself.

Marguerite rang the bell for the valet, and when he came, she almost involuntarily studied the faces of the two old men. Mister wants something? asked Lemulquinier.

Marguerite, who was all pride and nobility, felt a pang in her heart when she noticed from the valet's tone and deportment that some bad familiarity had been established between her father and the companion of his labors.

- So my father cannot calculate what he owes here without you? said Marguerite.

- Sir, continued Lemulquinier, must...

At these words, Balthazar made a sign of intelligence to his valet which Marguerite surprised and which humiliated her.

“Tell me everything my father owes,” she cried.

- Here, the gentleman owes a thousand crowns to an apothecary who runs the wholesale grocery store, and who supplied us with caustic potash, lead, zinc, and reagents.

-Is that all? said Marguerite.

Balthazar reiterated an affirmative sign to Lemulquinier who, fascinated by his master, replied: - Yes, mademoiselle.

- Hey! Well, she continued, I will give them to you.

Balthazar joyfully kissed his daughter, saying to her: - You are an angel to me, my child.

And he breathed more easily, looking at her with less sad eyes, but, despite this joy, Marguerite easily saw on his face the signs of deep worry, and judged that these thousand crowns only constituted the screaming debts. of the laboratory.

- Be frank, father, she said, allowing herself to be seated on his knees by him, do you still owe anything? Confess everything to me, return to your house without maintaining a principle of fear in the midst of the general joy.

- My dear Marguerite, he said, taking her hands and kissing them with a grace that seemed to be a memory of his youth, you will scold me...

- No, she said.

- True, he replied, letting out a gesture of childish joy, so I can tell you everything, you will pay...

- Yes, she said, fighting back tears that came to her eyes.

- Hey! well, I have to... Oh! I don't dare...

- But tell me, my father!

“It’s considerable,” he continued.

She clapped her hands in a movement of despair.

- I owe thirty thousand francs to Mr. Protez and Mr. Chiffreville.

- Thirty thousand francs, she said, are my savings, but I have pleasure in offering them to you, she added, kissing his forehead with respect.

He got up, took his daughter in his arms, and walked all around her room making her jump like a child; then, he put her back on the armchair where she was, exclaiming: - My dear child, you are a treasure of love! I was no longer alive. The Chiffrevilles wrote me three threatening letters and wanted to sue me, who had made them a fortune.

- My father, said Marguerite with an accent of despair, are you still looking?

- Always, he said with a crazy smile. I'll find out, go!... If you knew where we are.

- Who we?...

- I'm talking about Mulquinier, he ended up understanding me, he helps me a lot. Poor boy, he is so devoted to me!

Conyncks interrupted the conversation as he entered, Marguerite signaled her father to be silent, fearing that he would discredit himself in the eyes of their uncle. She was appalled by the ravages that preoccupation had wreaked on this great intelligence absorbed in the search for a perhaps insoluble problem. Balthazar, who undoubtedly saw nothing beyond his furnaces, did not even guess the liberation of his fortune. The next day they left for Flanders. The journey was long enough for Marguerite to gain some vague insight into the situation in which her father and Lemulquinier found themselves.

Did the valet have that ascendancy over the master that uneducated people who feel necessary are able to gain over the greatest minds, and who, from concession to concession, know how to move towards domination with the persistence that a fixed idea gives? Or had the master contracted for his valet that kind of affection which arises from habit, and similar to that which a worker has for his creative tool, which the Arab has for his liberating steed. Marguerite observed a few facts to make up her mind, proposing to free Balthazar from a humiliating yoke, if it were real. Passing through Paris, she stayed there for a few days to pay off her father's debts, and to ask the chemical manufacturers not to send anything to Douai without having warned her in advance of the requests that Claës would make of them. She obtained from her father that he changed his costume and resumed the toilet habits suitable for a man of his rank. This bodily restoration restored to Balthazar a sort of physical dignity which augured well for a change of ideas. Soon his daughter, happy in advance at all the surprises that awaited her father in his own house, left for Douai.

Three leagues from this town, Balthazar found his daughter Félicie on horseback, escorted by her two brothers, by Emmanuel, by Pierquin and by the close friends of the three families. The journey had necessarily distracted the chemist from his usual thoughts, the sight of Flanders had acted on his heart; so when he saw the joyful procession formed by his family and his friends, he experienced such vivid emotions that his eyes became moist, his voice trembled, his eyelids reddened, and he kissed his children so passionately without being able to do so. leave, that the spectators of this scene were moved to tears. When he saw his house again, he turned pale, jumped out of the traveling carriage with the agility of a young man, breathed in the air of the courtyard with delight, and began to look at the smallest details with overflowing pleasure. in his gestures; he straightened up, and his countenance became young again.

When he entered the parlour, tears came to his eyes as he saw from the accuracy with which his daughter had reproduced her old sold silver torches, that the disasters must be entirely repaired. A splendid lunch was served in the dining room, the dressers of which had been filled with curiosities and silverware of a value at least equal to that of the pieces which had formerly been there. Although this family meal lasted a long time, it was barely enough for the stories that Balthazar demanded from each of his children. The shock given to his morality by this return made him embrace the happiness of his family, and he clearly showed himself to be his father. His manners renewed their former nobility. In the first moment, he was entirely in the enjoyment of the possession, without considering the means by which he recovered all that he had lost. His joy was therefore whole and full. When lunch was over, the four children, the father and Pierquin the notary went into the parlor where Balthazar was not without concern seeing stamped papers that a clerk had brought to a table in front of which he was standing, as if to assist his boss . The children sat down, and Balthazar, astonished, remained standing in front of the fireplace.

- This, said Pierquin, is the guardianship account that Monsieur Claës renders to his children. Although it's not very amusing, he added, laughing in the manner of notaries who generally take a pleasant tone when discussing the most serious matters, you absolutely must listen to him.

Although the circumstances justified this sentence, Mr. Claës, to whom his conscience reminded him of the past of his life, accepted it as a reproach and frowned. The clerk began reading. Balthazar's astonishment grew as this act unfolded. It was established firstly that his wife's fortune amounted, at the time of death, to approximately sixteen hundred thousand francs, and the conclusion of this account clearly provided each of his children with a full share, as could have been the case. manage a good and caring father. The result was that the house was free of any mortgage, that Balthazar was at home, and that his rural property was also cleared. When the various acts were signed, Pierquin presented the receipts for the sums previously borrowed and the release of the registrations which weighed on the properties. At this moment, Balthazar, who at the same time covered the honor of the man, the life of the father, the consideration of the citizen, fell into an armchair; he looked for Marguerite who, through one of those sublime feminine delicacies, had been absent during this reading, in order to see if all her intentions had been well fulfilled for the celebration. Each member of the family understood the old man's thoughts at the moment when his faintly moist eyes asked for his daughter, whom everyone saw at that moment through the eyes of the soul, like an angel of strength and light. Lucien ["Lucien" for "Jean". Balzac's inadvertence. Jean was called Lucien in the Béchet edition (original).] went to look for Marguerite. Hearing his daughter's footsteps, Balthazar ran to hug her.

- Father, she said to him at the foot of the stairs where the old man grabbed her to hug her, I beg you, do not diminish your holy authority in any way. Thank me, in front of the whole family, for having fulfilled your intentions, and thus be the only author of the good that could be done here.

Balthazar rolled his eyes to the sky, looked at his daughter, crossed his arms, and said after a pause during which his face took on an expression that his children had not seen for ten years: - Why aren't you there, Pépita, to admire our child! He hugged Marguerite tightly, without being able to say a word, and went inside. - My children, he said with that nobility of bearing which once made him one of the most imposing men, we all owe thanks and gratitude to my daughter Marguerite, for the wisdom and courage with which she fulfilled my intentions. , executed my plans, when, too absorbed in my work, I handed over to him the reins of our domestic administration.

- Oh! Now we are going to read the marriage contracts, said Pierquin, looking at the time. But these acts do not concern me, since the law exempts me from acting for my parents and for myself. Monsieur Raparlier, the uncle will come.

At this moment, the friends of the family invited to the dinner given to celebrate the return of Monsieur Claës and to celebrate the signing of the contracts, arrived successively, while people brought wedding gifts. The assembly quickly grew and became as imposing in the quality of the people as it was beautiful in the richness of the toilets. The three families united by the happiness of their children wanted to compete in splendor. In a moment, the parlor was full of the gracious presents given to the engaged couple. The gold flowed and sparkled. The unfolded fabrics, the cashmere shawls, the necklaces, the ornaments excited such true joy in those who gave them and in those who received them, this half-childish joy was depicted so well on all the faces, that the value of these magnificent gifts were forgotten by the indifferent, quite often busy calculating them out of curiosity. Soon the ceremonial customary in the Claës family for these solemnities began. The father and mother alone had to be seated, and the assistants remained standing in front of them at a distance.

To the left of the parlor and on the garden side were placed Gabriel Claës and Mademoiselle Conyncks, near whom stood Monsieur de Solis and Marguerite, his sister and Pierquin. A few steps from these three couples, Balthazar and Conyncks, the only ones in the assembly who were seated, each took their place in an armchair, near the notary who replaced Pierquin. Jean was standing behind his father. About twenty elegantly dressed women and a few men, all chosen from among the closest relatives of the Pierquins, the Conyncks and the Claës, the mayor of Douai who was to marry the couple, the twelve witnesses taken from among the most devoted friends of the three families, and which included the first president of the royal court, everyone, up to the priest of Saint-Pierre, remained standing, forming an imposing circle on the court side. This homage paid by this entire assembly to the fatherhood which, at that moment, radiated a royal majesty, gave this scene an antique color. It was the only moment during which, for sixteen years, Balthazar forgot the search for the Absolute. Monsieur Raparlier, the notary, went to ask Marguerite and her sister if all the people invited to the signing and to the dinner which was to follow it had arrived; and, upon their affirmative response, he returned to take the marriage contract of Marguerite and Monsieur de Solis, which was to be read first, when suddenly the door to the parlor opened, and Lemulquinier appeared with his face blazing with joy. .

- Sir Sir!

Balthazar cast a look of despair at Marguerite, made a sign to her and took her into the garden.

Immediately disorder arose in the assembly.

- I didn't dare tell you, my child, said the father to his daughter; but since you have done so much for me, you will save me from this last misfortune. Lemulquinier lent me, for a last experiment which was not successful, twenty thousand francs, the fruit of his savings. The poor guy will no doubt come and ask for them again when he learns that I have become rich again; give them to him immediately. Ah! my angel, you owe your father to him, because he alone consoled me in my disasters, he alone still has faith in me. Of course, without him I would have died...

“Sir, sir,” shouted Lemulquinier.

- Hey! GOOD? Balthazar said, turning around.

- A diamond!...

Claës jumped into the parlor when he saw a diamond in the hand of his valet who whispered to him: - I went to the laboratory.

The chemist, who had forgotten everything, glanced at the old Fleming, and this look could only be translated by these words: You went to the laboratory first!

“And,” said the valet, continuing, “I found this diamond in the capsule which communicated with that pile which we had left acting up, and it did, sir! he added, showing a white octahedral diamond whose brilliance attracted the astonished looks of the entire assembly.

- My children, my friends, said Balthazar, forgive my old servant, forgive me. This is going to drive me crazy. A chance of seven years produced, without me, a discovery that I have been looking for sixteen years. How? I don't know. Yes, I had left carbon disulphide under the influence of a Volta battery whose action should have been monitored every day. Hey! well, during my absence, the power of God broke out in my laboratory without me being able to notice its effects, progressive, of course! Isn't that awful? Cursed exile! cursed coincidence! Alas! if I had spied this long, this slow, this sudden, I don't know how to say, crystallization, transformation, finally this miracle, eh! well, my children would be even richer. Although it is not the solution to the problem that I seek, at least the first rays of my glory would have it on my country, and this moment that our satisfied affections make so ardent with happiness would still be warmed by the sun of Science.

Everyone remained silent in front of this man. The inconsequential words that were torn from him by pain were too true not to be sublime.

Suddenly, Balthazar repressed his despair deep within himself, cast a majestic look on the assembly which shone in the souls, took the diamond, and offered it to Marguerite, exclaiming: - It belongs to you, my angel. Then he dismissed Lemulquinier with a gesture, and said to the notary: - Let's continue.

This word aroused in the assembly the thrill that, in certain roles, Talma caused to the attentive masses. Balthazar sat down and said to himself in a low voice: I must only be a father today. Marguerite heard the word, came forward, grabbed her father's hand and kissed him respectfully.

- Never has a man been so great, said Emmanuel when his bride came back to him, never has a man been so powerful, any other would go mad.

The three contracts read and signed, everyone hastened to question Balthazar on how this diamond was formed, but he could not answer anything about such a strange accident. He looked at his attic, and pointed to it with a gesture of rage.

- Yes, the frightening power due to the movement of the flaming matter which undoubtedly made the metals, the diamonds, he said, manifested itself there for a moment, by chance.

- This coincidence is undoubtedly very natural, said one of these people who want to explain everything, the man will have forgotten some real diamond. That's as much saved from those he burned.

- Let's forget that, said Balthazar to his friends, please don't talk to me about it today.

Marguerite took her father's arm to go to the apartments of the front house where a sumptuous party awaited her. When he entered the gallery after all his guests, he saw it furnished with paintings and filled with rare flowers.

- Pictures, he cried, pictures! and some of our elders!

He stopped, his brow darkened, he had a moment of sadness, and then felt the weight of his faults as he measured the extent of his secret humiliation.

“All this is yours, father,” said Marguerite, guessing the feelings that agitated Balthazar’s soul.

- Angel whom the celestial spirits must applaud, he cried, how many times will you have given life to your father?

- Do not keep any more cloud on your forehead, nor the slightest sad thought in your heart, she replied, and you will have rewarded me beyond my hopes. I have just thought of Lemulquinier, my dear father, the few words you said to me about him make me esteem him, and, I admitted, I had misjudged this man; no longer think about what you owe him, he will remain close to you like a humble friend. Emmanuel has around sixty thousand francs in savings, we will give them to Lemulquinier. After having served you so well, this man must be happy for the rest of his days. Don't worry about us! Monsieur de Solis and I will have a calm and gentle life, a life without pomp; We can therefore do without this sum until you return it to us.

- Oh! my daughter, never abandon me! Always be your father's providence.

Entering the reception apartments, Balthazar found them restored and furnished as magnificently as they had once been. Soon the guests went to the large dining room on the ground floor via the large staircase, on each step of which were flowering trees. A wonderful piece of silverware, offered by Gabriel to his father, seduced the eyes as much as a table luxury which seemed unheard of to the main inhabitants of a city where this luxury is traditionally fashionable. The servants of Mr. Conyncks, those of Claës and Pierquin were there to serve this sumptuous meal. Seeing himself in the middle of this table crowned with relatives, friends and faces on which burst a lively and sincere joy, Balthazar, behind whom Lemulquinier stood, had such a penetrating emotion that everyone became silent, as they are silent before great joys or great breads.

- Dear children, he cried, you killed the fatted calf for the return of the prodigal father.

This word by which the scholar did himself justice, and which perhaps prevented it from being done more severely, was pronounced so nobly that each one, moved, wiped away their tears; but it was the last expression of melancholy, the joy insensibly took on the noisy and lively character which signals family celebrations. After dinner, the main inhabitants of the town arrived for the ball which opened and which responded to the classical splendor of the restored Claës house. The three marriages took place promptly and gave rise to parties, balls and meals which took old Claës into the whirlwind of the world for several months. His eldest son went to settle on the land owned near Cambray by Conyncks, who never wanted to part with his daughter. Madame Pierquin also had to leave her father's house, to do the honors of the hotel that Pierquin had built, and where he wanted to live nobly, because his office was sold, and his uncle Des Racquets had just died, leaving him treasures slowly. saved. Jean left for Paris, where he was to complete his education.

The Solis therefore remained alone near their father, who left the back quarter to them, staying on the second floor of the front house. Marguerite continued to watch over Balthazar's material happiness, and was helped in this gentle task by Emmanuel. This noble girl received by the hands of love the most envied crown, the one that happiness braids and whose radiance is maintained by constancy. Indeed, never has a couple better offered the image of this complete, avowed, pure happiness that all women caress in their dreams. The union of these two beings who were so courageous in the trials of life, and who had loved each other so holyly, excited respectful admiration in the city. Mr. de Solis, who had long been appointed inspector-general of the University, resigned from his position to better enjoy his happiness, and to remain in Douai where everyone paid such tribute to his talents and his character that his name was promised in advance to the vote of the electoral colleges, when the age of delegation would come for him. Marguerite, who had shown herself to be so strong in adversity, became a gentle and good woman again in happiness. During this year Claës undoubtedly remained seriously concerned; but, although he carried out some inexpensive experiments for which his income was sufficient, he appeared to neglect his laboratory. Marguerite, who resumed the old habits of the Claës household, gave her father a family celebration every month, attended by the Pierquins and the Conyncks, and received the high society of the town on one day of the week when she had a Café which became one of the most famous. Although often distracted, Claës attended all the meetings, and became so complacent a man of the world again to please his eldest daughter, that his children were able to believe that he had given up seeking the solution to his problem. Three years passed like this.

In 1828, an event favorable to Emmanuel called him to Spain. Although there were, between the goods of the house of Solis and him, three numerous branches, yellow fever, old age, infertility, all the whims of fortune agreed to make Emmanuel the heir to the titles and of the rich substitutions of his house, hey, the last one. By one of those coincidences which are only improbable in books, the house of Solis had acquired the county of Nourho. Marguerite did not want to separate from her husband who had to stay in Spain as long as his business required. She was also curious to see the castle of Casa-Réal, where her mother had spent her childhood, and the town of Granada, heritage cradle of the Solis family. She left, entrusting the administration of the house to the dedication of Martha, Josette and Lemulquinier who used to lead her. Balthazar, to whom Marguerite had proposed a trip to Spain, had refused, citing his great age; but several works meditated on for a long time, and which were to realize his hopes, were the real reason for his refusal.

The Count and Countess of Solis and Nourho stayed in Spain longer than they wanted, Marguerite had a child there. In the middle of 1830 they were in Cadiz, where they intended to embark to return to France, via Italy; but there they received a letter in which Félicie told her sister some sad news. In eighteen months their father had completely ruined himself. Gabriel and Pierquin were obliged to give Lemulquinier a monthly sum to cover household expenses. The old servant had once again sacrificed his fortune to his master. Balthazar did not want to receive anyone, and would not even allow his children into his home.

Josette and Martha were dead. The coachman, the cook and the other people had been successively fired.

Horses and crews were sold out. Although Lemulquinier kept the most profound secret about his master's habits, it was believed that the thousand francs given per month by Gabriel Claës and Pierquin were used in experiments. The few provisions that the valet bought at the market suggested that these two old men were content with the bare necessities. Finally, in order not to let their father's house be sold, Gabriel and Pierquin paid the interest on the sums that the old man had borrowed, without their knowledge, on this building. None of his children had any influence on this old man, who, at seventy years old, deployed extraordinary energy to succeed in carrying out all his wishes, even the most absurd.

Marguerite could perhaps alone regain the empire she had formerly exercised over Balthazar, and Félicie begged her sister to arrive promptly; she feared that her father had signed some bills of exchange. Gabriel, Conyncks and Pierquin, all frightened by the continuation of a madness which had devoured around seven million without result, were determined not to pay the debts of Monsieur Claës. This letter changed the arrangements for Marguerite's trip, who took the shortest route to reach Douai. His savings and his new fortune allowed him to once again pay off his father's debts; but she wanted more, she wanted to obey her mother by not letting Balthazar go down to the tomb dishonored. Certainly, she alone could exercise enough influence over this old man to prevent him from continuing his work of ruin, at an age when no fruitful work should be expected from his weakened faculties. But she wanted to govern him without offending him, so as not to imitate the children of Sophocles, in case her father approached the scientific goal to which he had sacrificed so much.

Monsieur and Madame de Solis reached Flanders towards the last days of September 1831 ["1831" for "1830" (Béchet edition). Balzac's inadvertence.], and arrived in Douai in the morning. Marguerite was arrested at her house on Rue de Paris, and found it closed. The doorbell was rang violently without anyone answering. A merchant left his shop where the noise of the carriages of Monsieur de Solis and his entourage had brought him. Many people were at the windows to enjoy the spectacle offered to them by the return of a beloved couple throughout the city, and also attracted by this vague curiosity which attached itself to the events which the arrival of Marguerite caused to be prejudged in the Claës house . . The merchant told the Count of Solis' valet that old Claës had been out about an hour ago.

No doubt, Monsieur Lemulquinier was walking his master on the ramparts. Marguerite sent for a locksmith to open the door, in order to avoid the scene that her father's resistance was preparing for her, if, as Félicie had written to her, he refused to admit her into his home. Meanwhile, Emmanuel went to look for the old man to tell him of the arrival of his daughter, while his valet ran to tell Monsieur and Madame Pierquin. In a moment the door was opened. Marguerite entered the parlor to have her luggage put there, and shuddered with terror when she saw the walls bare as if a fire had been set there. The admirable woodwork carved by Van-Huysium and the portrait of the President had been sold, it is said, to Lord Spencer. The dining room was empty, there were only two straw chairs and a common table on which Marguerite saw with horror two plates, two bowls, two silver cutlery, and on a dish the remains of a herring that Claës and his valet had undoubtedly just shared .

In an instant she wandered through the house, each room of which offered her the desolate spectacle of nudity similar to that of the parlor and the dining room. The idea of ​​​​the Absolute had spread like a fire everywhere. For all furniture, his father's room had a bed, a chair and a table on which was a bad copper candlestick where the day before a stub of the worst kind had expired. The dismissal was so complete that there were no longer any curtains on the windows. The smallest objects that could have value in the house, everything, down to the kitchen utensils, had been sold. Moved by the curiosity which does not abandon us even in misfortune, Marguerite entered Lemulquinier's house, whose room was as bare as that of her master. In the half-closed drawer of the table, she saw an acknowledgment from the Pawnshop which attested that the valet had pawned his watch a few days previously. She ran to the laboratory, and saw this room full of scientific instruments like in the past.She had her apartment opened to her, her father had respected everything there.

At the first glance she took at it, Marguerite burst into tears and forgave her father everything. In the midst of this devastating fury, he had been stopped by paternal feeling and by the gratitude he owed to his daughter! This proof of tenderness received at a moment when Marguerite's despair was at her height, determined one of those moral reactions against which the coldest hearts are powerless. She went down to the parlor and awaited her father's arrival, in an anxiety that was horribly increased by doubt. How was she going to see him again? Destroyed, decrepit, suffering, weakened by the fasts he suffered out of pride? But would he have his reason?

Tears flowed from her eyes without her realizing it when she found this devastated sanctuary. The images of his whole life, his efforts, his useless precautions, his childhood, his happy and unhappy mother, everything, even the sight of his little Joseph who smiled at this spectacle of desolation, composed for him a poem of heartbreaking melancholy. But, although she foresaw misfortunes, she did not expect the outcome which was to crown her father's life, this life both so grandiose and so miserable. The state in which Monsieur Claës found himself was no secret. To the shame of men, there were not two generous hearts found in Douai who would do honor to his perseverance as a man of genius. For all of society, Balthazar was a man to be banned, a bad father, who had eaten six fortunes, millions, and who was looking for the philosopher's stone, in the Nineteenth Century, this enlightened century, this incredulous century, this century, etc. ... He was slandered by calling him an alchemist and throwing this word in his face: - He wants to make gold! What praise was not said about this century, where, as in all others, talent expires under an indifference as brutal as that of the times when Dante, Cervantes, Tasso e tutti quanti died .

People understand the creations of genius even later than Kings understood them.

These opinions had imperceptibly filtered from the high Douaisian society into the bourgeoisie, and from the bourgeoisie into the lower classes. The septuagenarian chemist therefore aroused a deep feeling of pity among well-bred people, a mocking curiosity among the people, two expressions full of contempt and of this vae victis! with which great men are burdened by the masses when they see them miserable. Many people came in front of Maison Claës to show each other the rose window of the attic where so much gold and coal had been consumed. When Balthazar passed by, he was pointed out; often, at his sight, a word of mockery or pity escaped the lips of a man of the people or a child; but Lemulquinier took care to translate it as praise, and could deceive him with impunity.

If Balthazar's eyes had retained that sublime lucidity that the habit of great thoughts imprints on them, his sense of hearing had weakened. For many peasants, crude and superstitious people, this old man was a sorcerer. The noble, the great Claës house was called, in the suburbs and in the countryside, the house of the devil. There was not even Lemulquinier's face which did not lend itself to the ridiculous beliefs which had been spread about his master. Also, when the poor old helot went to the market to look for the foodstuffs necessary for subsistence, and which he took among the cheapest of all, he obtained nothing without receiving a few insults in the form of rejoicing; happy even, if, often, some superstitious merchants did not refuse to sell him his meager pittance for fear of damning himself through contact with a servant of hell. The feelings of the whole town were therefore generally hostile to this grand old man and his companion. The disorder of each other's clothing slower itself to this; they went about dressed like those shameful poor people who maintain a decent appearance and who hesitate to ask for alms. Sooner or later these two old people might be insulted. Pierquin, feeling how dishonorable a public insult would be for the family, always sent, during his father-in-law's walks, two or three of his people who surrounded him at a distance with the mission of protecting him, because the July revolution was not had not contributed to making the people respectful.

By one of those fatalities which cannot be explained, Claës and Lemulquinier, going out early in the morning, had deceived the secret surveillance of Monsieur and Madame Pierquin, and found themselves alone in town. On their return from their walk they came to sit in the sun, on a bench in the Place Saint-Jacques where a few children were passing by on their way to school or college. Seeing these two defenseless old men from afar, whose faces blossomed in the sun, the children began to talk about them.

Ordinarily, children's talks soon lead to laughter; from laughter, they came to mystifications without knowing the cruelty. Seven or eight of the first to arrive stood at a distance and began to examine the two old faces while suppressing stifled laughter which attracted the attention of Lemulquinier.

- Hey, do you see this one whose head is like a knee?

- Yes.

- Hey! well he is a scholar by birth.

- Dad says he makes gold, said another.

- From where? Is it this way or this way? added a third, pointing with a mocking gesture to that part of themselves that schoolchildren so often show as a sign of contempt.

The smallest of the group, who had his basket full of provisions, and who was licking a piece of buttered toast, naively advanced towards the bench and said to Lemulquinier: - It's true, sir, that you make pearls and diamonds?

- Yes, my little militiaman, replied Lemulquinier, smiling and slapping him on the cheek, we will give you some when you are very knowledgeable.

- Ha! sir, give me some too, was a general exclamation.

All the children came running like a flock of birds and surrounded the two chemists. Balthazar, absorbed in meditation from which he was drawn out by these cries, then made a gesture of astonishment which caused general laughter.

- Come on, kids, respect to a great man! said Lemulquinier.

-To the dog! shouted the children. You are wizards. -Yes, wizards, old wizards! wizards, na!

Lemulquinier rose to his feet and threatened the children with his cane, who ran away collecting mud and stones. A worker, who was having lunch a few steps away, having seen Lemulquinier raising his cane to save the children, believed that he had hit them, and supported them with these terrible words: Down with the sorcerers!

The children, feeling supported, launched their projectiles which struck the two old men, at the moment when the Count of Solis appeared at the end of the square, accompanied by Pierquin's servants. They did not arrive quickly enough to prevent the children from covering the grand old man and his valet with mud.

The blow was struck. Balthazar, whose faculties had until then been preserved by the chastity natural to scientists in whom the preoccupation with a discovery destroys the passions, guessed, through a phenomenon of intussusception, the secret of this scene, his decrepit body did not support the terrible reaction he experienced in the upper region of his feelings, he fell struck by an attack of paralysis in the arms of Lemulquinier who took him home on a stretcher, surrounded by his two sons-in-law and their people. No power could prevent the populace of Douai from escorting the old man to the door of his house, where there were Félicie and her children, Jean, Marguerite and Gabriel who, warned by his sister, had arrived from Cambrai with his wife.

It was a terrible sight to see the entrance of this old man who was struggling less against death than against the terror of seeing his children penetrating the secret of his misery. Immediately a bed was set up in the middle of the parlor, assistance was provided to Balthazar whose situation allowed, towards the end of the day, to entertain some hopes for his preservation. The paralysis, although skillfully combated, nevertheless left him for quite a long time in a state close to childhood. When the paralysis had gradually ceased, it remained on the tongue which it had particularly affected, perhaps because anger had directed all the strength of the old man there at the moment when he wanted to address the children.

This scene sparked general indignation in the city. By a law, hitherto unknown, which directs the affections of the masses, this event brought all minds back to Monsieur Claës. In a moment he became a great man, he excited admiration and obtained all the feelings that had been denied him the day before. Everyone praised his patience, his will, his courage, his genius. The magistrates wanted to take action against those who had participated in this attack; But the damage was done. The Claës family was the first to ask that this matter be put to rest. Marguerite had ordered the parlor to be furnished, the bare walls of which were soon hung with silk. When, a few days after this event, the old father had recovered his faculties, and found himself in an elegant sphere, surrounded by everything necessary for a happy life, he made it understood that his daughter Marguerite must have come, at the very moment she returned to the visiting room; upon seeing her, Balthazar blushed, his eyes became wet without tears coming out.

He was able to press his daughter's hand with his cold fingers, and put into this pressure all the feelings and all the ideas that he could no longer express. It was something holy and solemn, the farewell of the brain that still lived, of the heart that gratitude revived. Exhausted by his unsuccessful attempts, worn out by his struggle with a gigantic problem and perhaps desperate for the incognito that awaited his memory, this giant would soon cease to live; all his children surrounded him with a respectful feeling, so that his eyes could be recreated by the images of abundance, of wealth, and by the touching picture that his beautiful family presented to him. He was constantly affectionate in his looks, through which he could manifest his feelings; his eyes suddenly contracted such a wide variety of expressions that they had a language of light, easy to understand.

Marguerite paid her father's debts, and in a few days restored the Claës house to a modern splendor which was to dispel any idea of ​​decadence. She never left the bedside of Balthazar, whose every thought she tried to divine, and to fulfill the slightest wishes. A few months passed in the alternations of evil and good which signal among old people the struggle between life and death; every morning his children went to him, stayed during the day in the parlor eating dinner in front of his bed, and only came out when he was falling asleep. The distraction that pleased him the most among all those that we sought to give him, was reading the newspapers which political events then made very interesting.

Monsieur Claës listened attentively to this reading that Monsieur de Solis was doing aloud and near him.

Towards the end of the year 1832 ["1832": "1831" in the Béchet edition, a date more consistent with the chronology.] , Balthazar spent an extremely critical night during which Monsieur Pierquin the doctor was called by the guard, frightened of a sudden change which took place in the patient; in fact, the doctor wanted to watch over him, fearing at every moment that he would die under the strain of an internal crisis whose effects had the character of agony.

The old man indulged in movements of incredible force to shake off the leaps of paralysis, he wanted to speak and moved his tongue without being able to form any sounds; his blazing eyes projected thoughts; his contracted features expressed incredible pain; his fingers were moving desperately, he was sweating profusely. In the morning, the children came to embrace their father with that affection that the fear of his imminent death made them express more ardently and more vividly every day; but he did not show them the satisfaction which these expressions of tenderness usually caused him. Emmanuel, warned by Pierquin, hastened to open the newspaper to see if reading it would distract from the internal crises that were plaguing Balthazar. Unfolding the sheet, he saw these words, discovery of the absolute , which struck him keenly, and he read to Marguerite an article in which there was talk of a trial relating to the sale that a famous Polish mathematician had made of the 'Absolute. Although Emmanuel read the announcement of the fact quietly to Marguerite who asked him to pass on the article, Balthazar had heard.

Suddenly the dying man stood up on his two fists, cast a look at his frightened children who reached them all like lightning, the hair which adorned the back of his neck moved, his wrinkles quivered, his face came alive with a spirit of fire, a breath passed over this face and made it sublime, he raised a hand clenched in rage, and shouted in a booming voice the famous words of Archimedes: EUREKA! ( I found it ).

He fell back on his bed, making the heavy sound of an inert body, he died uttering a terrible groan, and his convulsed eyes expressed, until the moment the doctor closed them, the regret of not having been able to bequeath to Science the word of an enigma whose veil had belatedly torn beneath the fleshless fingers of Death.


Paris, June-September 1834