it filled her with sweet emotion to see the beautiful child, so
plump and rosy, with his mouth still wet with milk, whose gaze had
been arrested by the sunbeam full of dancing motes. His eyes were fixed
wonderingly on the golden brightness, the dazzling miracle of light.
Then sleep came over him, and he let his little, round, bare head,
covered thinly with fair hair, fall back on his mother's arm.

Clotilde rose softly and laid him in the cradle, which stood beside the
table. She remained leaning over him for an instant to assure herself
that he was asleep; then she let down the curtain in the already
darkened room. Then she busied herself with supple and noiseless
movements, walking with so light a step that she scarcely touched the
floor, in putting away some linen which was on the table. Twice she
crossed the room in search of a little missing sock. She was very
silent, very gentle, and very active. And now, in the solitude of the
house, she fell into a reverie and all the past year arose before her.

First, after the dreadful shock of the funeral, came the departure of
Martine, who had obstinately kept to her determination of going away at
once, not even remaining for the customary week, bringing to replace her
the young cousin of a baker in the neighborhood--a stout brunette, who
fortunately proved very neat and faithful. Martine herself lived at
Sainte-Marthe, in a retired corner, so penuriously that she must be
still saving even out of her small income. She was not known to have any
heir. Who, then, would profit by this miserliness? In ten months she had
not once set foot in La Souleiade--monsieur was not there, and she had
not even the desire to see monsieur's son.

Then in Clotilde's reverie rose the figure of her grandmother Felicite.
The latter came to see her from time to time with the condescension of a
powerful relation who is liberal-minded enough to pardon all faults when
they have been cruelly expiated. She would come unexpectedly, kiss
the child, moralize, and give advice, and the young mother had adopted
toward her the respectful attitude which Pascal had always maintained.
Felicite was now wholly absorbed in her triumph. She was at last about
to realize a plan that she had long cherished and maturely deliberated,
which would perpetuate by an imperishable monument the untarnished glory
of the family. The plan was to devote her fortune, which had become
considerable, to the construction and endowment