of all resigned women
which might melt a granite rock. "Do not be astonished at my frank
confidence; it shows you life as it is, not as your imagination pictures
it. We all have our defects and our good qualities. If I had married a
spendthrift he would have ruined me. If I had given myself to an ardent
and pleasure-loving young man, perhaps I could not have retained him;
he might have left me, and I should have died of jealousy. For I
am jealous!" she said, in a tone of excitement, which was like the
thunderclap of a passing storm. "But Monsieur de Mortsauf loves me
as much as he is capable of loving; all that his heart contains of
affection he pours at my feet, like the Magdalen's cup of ointment.
Believe me, a life of love is an exception to the laws of this earth;
all flowers fade; great joys and emotions have a morrow of evil--if
a morrow at all. Real life is a life of anguish; its image is in that
nettle growing there at the foot of the wall,--no sun can reach it and
it keeps green. Yet, here, as in parts of the North, there are smiles in
the sky, few to be sure, but they compensate for many a grief.
Moreover, women who are naturally mothers live and love far more through
sacrifices than through pleasures. Here I draw upon myself the storms I
fear may break upon my children or my people; and in doing so I feel
a something I cannot explain, which gives me secret courage. The
resignation of the night carries me through the day that follows.
God does not leave me comfortless. Time was when the condition of my
children filled me with despair; to-day as they advance in life they
grow healthier and stronger. And then, after all, our home is improved
and beautified, our means are improving also. Who knows but Monsieur de
Mortsauf's old age may be a blessing to me? Ah, believe me! those
who stand before the Great Judge with palms in their hands, leading
comforted to Him the beings who cursed their lives, they, they have
turned their sorrows into joy. If my sufferings bring about the
happiness of my family, are they sufferings at all?"

"Yes," I said, "they are; but they were necessary, as mine have been, to
make us understand the true flavor of the fruit that has ripened on our
rocks. Now, surely, we shall taste it together; surely we may admire its
wonders, the sweetness of affection it has poured into our souls,
that inward sap which revives the searing leaves--Good God! do you not
understand me?" I cried, falling into