ed by the sound of the
piano from hearing what happened behind her, Lydie did not notice their
entrance.

"Now have you any remembrance of her?" said Corentin.

La Peyrade advanced a step, and no sooner had he caught a glimpse of the
girl's profile than he threw up his hands above his head, striking them
together.

"It is she!" he cried.

Hearing his cry, Lydie turned round, and fixing her attention on
Corentin, she said:--

"How naughty and troublesome you are to come and disturb me; you know
very well I don't like to be listened to. Ah! but--" she added, catching
sight of la Peyrade's black coat, "you have brought the doctor; that is
very kind of you; I was just going to ask you to send for him. The baby
has done nothing but cry since morning; I was singing to put her to
sleep, but nothing can do that."

And she ran to fetch what she called her child from a corner of the
room, where with two chairs laid on their backs and the cushions of the
sofa, she had constructed a sort of cradle.

As she went towards la Peyrade, carrying her precious bundle with one
hand, with the other she was arranging the imaginary cap of her "little
darling," having no eyes except for the sad creation of her disordered
brain. Step by step, as she advanced, la Peyrade, pale, trembling, and
with staring eyes, retreated backwards, until he struck against a seat,
into which, losing his equilibrium, he fell.

A man of Corentin's power and experience, and who, moreover, knew to its
slightest detail the horrible drama in which Lydie had lost her reason,
had already, of course, taken in the situation, but it suited his
purpose and his ideas to allow the clear light of evidence to pierce
this darkness.

"Look, doctor," said Lydie, unfastening the bundle, and putting the pins
in her mouth as she did so, "don't you see that she is growing thinner
every day?"

La Peyrade could not answer; he kept his handkerchief over his face,
and his breath came so fast from his chest that he was totally unable to
utter a word.

Then, with one of those gestures of feverish impatience, to which her
mental state predisposed her, she exclaimed, hastily:--

"But look at her doctor, look!" taking his arm violently and forcing him
to show his features. "My God!" she cried, when she had looked him in
the face.

Letting fall the linen bundle in her arms, she threw herself hastily
backwards, and her eyes grew haggard. Passing her white hands rapidly
over her