ard.
"That man's wandering memory comes back to him in the nick of
time,--just when he needed it to hinder us from taking precautions
against him! I have cracked my brains to save the property of those
children. I meant to proceed regularly and come to an understanding
with old Conyncks, and here's the end of it! I shall lose ground with
Marguerite, for she will certainly ask her father why I wanted an
inventory of the property, which she now sees was not necessary; and
Claes will tell her that notaries have a passion for writing documents,
that we are lawyers above all, above cousins or friends or relatives,
and all such stuff as that."

He slammed the street door violently, railing at clients who ruin
themselves by sensitiveness.

Balthazar was right. No inventory could be made. Nothing, therefore, was
done to settle the relation of the father to the children in the matter
of property.

CHAPTER XI

Several months went by and brought no change to the House of Claes.
Gabriel, under the wise management of his tutor, Monsieur de Solis,
worked studiously, acquired foreign languages, and prepared to pass the
necessary examinations to enter the Ecole Polytechnique. Marguerite and
Felicie lived in absolute retirement, going in summer to their father's
country place as a measure of economy. Monsieur Claes attended to his
business affairs, paid his debts by borrowing a considerable sum of
money on his property, and went to see the forest at Waignies.

About the middle of the year 1817, his grief, slowly abating, left him
a prey to solitude and defenceless under the monotony of the life he
was leading, which heavily oppressed him. At first he struggled bravely
against the allurements of Science as they gradually beset him; he
forbade himself even to think of Chemistry. Then he did think of it.
Still, he would not actively take it up, and only gave his mind to his
researches theoretically. Such constant study, however, swelled his
passion which soon became exacting. He asked himself whether he was
really bound not to continue his researches, and remembered that his
wife had refused his oath. Though he had pledged his word to himself
that he would never pursue the solution of the great Problem, might he
not change that determination at a moment when he foresaw success? He
was now fifty-nine years old. At that age a predominant idea contracts a
certain peevish fixedness which is the first stage of monomania.

Circumst