bstacles and suffering, ever making good all losses, and
at each succeeding hour setting more energy, more health, and more joy
in the veins of the world.

But during those two years, while Chantebled grew, while labor and worry
and victory alternated, Mathieu suddenly found himself mixed up in a
terribly tragedy. He was obliged to come to Paris at times--more often
indeed than he cared--now through his business relations with Seguin,
now to sell, now to buy, now to order one thing or another. He often
purchased implements and appliances at the Beauchene works, and had thus
kept up intercourse with Morange, who once more seemed a changed man.
Time had largely healed the wound left by his wife's death, particularly
as she seemed to live again in Reine, to whom he was more attached than
ever. Reine was no longer a child; she had become a woman. Still her
father hoped to keep her with him some years yet, while working with all
diligence, saving and saving every penny that he could spare, in order
to increase her dowry.

But the inevitable was on the march, for the girl had become the
constant companion of Seraphine. The latter, however depraved she
might be, had certainly in the first instance entertained no idea of
corrupting the child whom she patronized. She had at first taken
her solely to such places of amusement as were fit for her years and
understanding. But little by little the descent had come. Reine, too,
as she grew into a woman, amid the hours of idleness when she was
left alone by her father--who, perforce, had to spend his days at the
Beauchene works--developed an ardent temperament and a thirst for every
frivolous pleasure. And by degrees the once simply petted child became a
participator in Seraphine's own reckless and dissolute life.

When the end came, and Reine found herself in dire trouble because of
a high State functionary, a married man, a friend of Seraphine's--both
women quite lost their heads. Such a blow might kill Morange. Everything
must be hidden from him; but how? Thereupon Seraphine devised a plan.
She obtained permission for Reine to accompany her on a visit into
the country; but while the fond father imagined that his daughter was
enjoying herself among society folk at a chateau in the Loiret, she
was really hiding in Paris. It was indeed a repetition of her mother's
tragic story, with this difference--that Seraphine addressed herself to
no vulgar Madame Rouche, but to an assistant of h