* * *

X

The next few days were very sad, as they always must be directly after a
death. The absence of the familiar face from its accustomed place makes
the house seem empty, and each time the eye falls on anything the dear,
dead one has had in constant use, a fresh pang of sorrow darts through
the heart. There is the empty chair, the umbrella still standing in the
hall, the glass which the maid has not yet washed. In every room there
is something lying just as it was left for the last time; the scissors,
an odd glove, the fingered book, the numberless other objects, which,
insignificant in themselves, become a source of sharp pain because they
recall so vividly the loved one who has passed away. And the voice rings
in one's ears till it seems almost a reality, but there is no escape
from the house haunted by this presence, for others are suffering also,
and all must stay and suffer with each other.

In addition to her natural grief, Jeanne had to bear the pain of her
discovery. She was always thinking of it, and the terrible secret
increased her former sense of desolation tenfold, for now she felt that
she could never put her trust or confidence in anyone again.

The baron soon went away, thinking to find relief from the grief which
was deadening all his faculties in change of air and change of scene,
and the household at Les Peuples resumed its quiet regular life again.

Then Paul fell ill, and Jeanne passed twelve days in an agony of fear,
unable to sleep and scarcely touching food. The boy got well, but there
remained the thought that he might die. What should she do if he did?
What would become of her? Gradually there came a vague longing for
another child, and soon she could think of nothing else; she had always
fancied she should like two children, a boy and a girl, and the idea of
having a daughter haunted her. But since Rosalie had been sent away, she
had lived quite apart from her husband, and at the present moment it
seemed utterly impossible to renew their former relations. Julien's
affections were centered elsewhere; she knew that; and, on her side, the
mere thought of having to submit to his caresses again, made her shudder
with disgust.

Still, she would have overcome her repugnance (so tormented was she by
the desire of another child) if she could have seen any way to bring
about the intimacy she desired; but she would have died rather than let
her husband guess what was in her