d all been made, he would say,--

"You are rather pale to-day, my poor wife."

Absolute forgetfulness of his daughter seemed graven on his stony brow,
on his closed lips. He was unmoved by the tears which flowed down the
white cheeks of his unhappy wife as she listened to his meaningless
answers.

"May God pardon you," she said, "even as I pardon you! You will some day
stand in need of mercy."

Since Madame Grandet's illness he had not dared to make use of his
terrible "Ta, ta, ta, ta!" Yet, for all that, his despotic nature was
not disarmed by this angel of gentleness, whose ugliness day by day
decreased, driven out by the ineffable expression of moral qualities
which shone upon her face. She was all soul. The spirit of prayer seemed
to purify her and refine those homely features and make them luminous.
Who has not seen the phenomenon of a like transfiguration on sacred
faces where the habits of the soul have triumphed over the plainest
features, giving them that spiritual illumination whose light comes from
the purity and nobility of the inward thought? The spectacle of this
transformation wrought by the struggle which consumed the last shreds of
the human life of this woman, did somewhat affect the old cooper,
though feebly, for his nature was of iron; if his language ceased to
be contemptuous, an imperturbable silence, which saved his dignity as
master of the household, took its place and ruled his conduct.

When the faithful Nanon appeared in the market, many quips and quirks
and complaints about the master whistled in her ears; but however loudly
public opinion condemned Monsieur Grandet, the old servant defended him,
for the honor of the family.

"Well!" she would say to his detractors, "don't we all get hard as
we grow old? Why shouldn't he get horny too? Stop telling lies.
Mademoiselle lives like a queen. She's alone, that's true; but she likes
it. Besides, my masters have good reasons."

At last, towards the end of spring, Madame Grandet, worn out by grief
even more than by illness, having failed, in spite of her prayers, to
reconcile the father and daughter, confided her secret troubles to the
Cruchots.

"Keep a girl of twenty-three on bread and water!" cried Monsieur de
Bonfons; "without any reason, too! Why, that constitutes wrongful
cruelty; she can contest, as much in as upon--"

"Come, nephew, spare us your legal jargon," said the notary. "Set your
mind at ease, madame; I will put a stop to su