o talk. Claude looked at Dubuche, astonished to find him so aged;
his flabby face had become wrinkled--it was of a yellowish hue, and
streaked with red, as if bile had splashed his skin; whilst his hair
and his moustaches were already growing grey. In addition, his figure
appeared to have become more compact; a bitter weariness made each of
his gestures seem an effort. Were defeats in money matters as hard to
bear, then, as defeats in art? Everything about this vanquished man--his
voice, his glance--proclaimed the shameful dependency in which he had to
live: the bankruptcy of his future which was cast in his teeth, with the
accusation of having allowed a talent he did not possess to be set down
as an asset in the marriage contract. Then there was the family money
which he nowadays stole, the money spent on what he ate, the clothes he
wore, and the pocket-money he needed--in fact, the perpetual alms which
were bestowed upon him, just as they might have been bestowed upon some
vulgar swindler, whom one unluckily could not get rid of.

'Wait a bit,' resumed Dubuche; 'I have to stop here five minutes longer
with one of my poor duckies, and afterwards we'll go indoors.'

Gently, and with infinite motherly precautions, he removed little Alice
from the perambulator and lifted her to the trapeze. Then, stammering
coaxing words and smiling, he encouraged her, and left her hanging for
a couple of minutes, so as to develop her muscles; but he remained with
open arms, watching each movement with the fear of seeing her smashed to
pieces, should her weak little wax-like hands relax their hold. She
did not say anything, but obeyed him in spite of the terror that this
exercise caused her; and she was so pitifully light in weight that
she did not even fully stretch the ropes, being like one of those poor
scraggy little birds which fall from a young tree without as much as
bending it.

At this moment, Dubuche, having given Gaston a glance, became distracted
on remarking that the rug had slipped and that the child's legs were
uncovered.

'Good heavens! good heavens! Why, he'll catch cold on this grass! And I,
who can't move! Gaston, my little dear! It's the same thing every day;
you wait till I'm occupied with your sister. Sandoz, pray cover him
over! Ah, thanks! Pull the rug up more; don't be afraid!'

So this was the outcome of his splendid marriage--those two poor, weak
little beings, whom the least breath from the sky threatened t