h a deaf and dumb gardener older than
himself, was he not an example of the greatest happiness possible on
earth? Without a responsibility, without a duty, without an anxiety,
other than that of taking care of his dear health! He was a wise man, he
would live a hundred years.

"Ah, the fear of life! that is cowardice which is truly the best wisdom.
To think that I should ever have regretted not having a child of my own!
Has any one a right to bring miserable creatures into the world? Bad
heredity should be ended, life should be ended. The only honest man is
that old coward there!"

M. Bellombre continued peacefully making the round of his pear trees in
the March sunshine. He did not risk a too hasty movement; he economized
his fresh old age. If he met a stone in his path, he pushed it aside
with the end of his cane, and then walked tranquilly on.

"Look at him! Is he not well preserved; is he not handsome? Have not all
the blessings of heaven been showered down upon him? He is the happiest
man I know."

Clotilde, who had listened in silence, suffered from the irony of
Pascal, the full bitterness of which she divined. She, who usually took
M. Bellombre's part, felt a protest rise up within her. Tears came to
her eyes, and she answered simply in a low voice:

"Yes; but he is not loved."

These words put a sudden end to the painful scene. Pascal, as if he had
received an electric shock, turned and looked at her. A sudden rush of
tenderness brought tears to his eyes also, and he left the room to keep
from weeping.

The days wore on in the midst of these alternations of good and bad
hours. He recovered his strength but slowly, and what put him in despair
was that whenever he attempted to work he was seized by a profuse
perspiration. If he had persisted, he would assuredly have fainted. So
long as he did not work he felt that his convalescence was making little
progress. He began to take an interest again, however, in his accustomed
investigations. He read over again the last pages that he had written,
and, with this reawakening of the scientist in him, his former anxieties
returned. At one time he fell into a state of such depression, that the
house and all it contained ceased to exist for him. He might have been
robbed, everything he possessed might have been taken and destroyed,
without his even being conscious of the disaster. Now he became again
watchful, from time to time he would feel his pocket, to assure hims