s of the boy. The thought that her
husband had two sons and she but one was painful to her, now that
all her motherly nature was aroused. But she devoted herself yet more
ardently to her fondly loved Maurice; she made a demi-god of him, and
for his sake even sacrificed her just rancor. She indeed came to the
conclusion that he must not suffer from his father's indignity, and
so it was for him that, with extraordinary strength of will, she
ever preserved a proud demeanor, feigning that she was ignorant of
everything, never addressing a reproach to her husband, but remaining,
in the presence of others, the same respectful wife as formerly.
And even when they were alone together she kept silence and avoided
explanations and quarrels. Never even thinking of the possibility of
revenge, she seemed, in the presence of her husband's profligacy,
to attach herself more firmly to her home, clinging to her son, and
protected by him from thought of evil as much as by her own sternness
of heart and principles. And thus sorely wounded, full of repugnance
but hiding her contempt, she awaited the triumph of that son who would
purify and save the house, feeling the greatest faith in his strength,
and quite surprised and anxious whenever, all at once, without
reasonable cause, a little quiver from the unknown brought her a chill,
affecting her heart as with remorse for some long-past fault which she
no longer remembered.

That little quiver came back while she listened to all that Madame
Angelin confided to her. And at last she became quite interested in her
friend's case, and offered to accompany her some day when she might
be calling on Madame Bourdieu. In the end they arranged to meet one
Thursday afternoon for the purpose of going together to the Rue de
Miromesnil.

As it happened, that same Thursday, about two o'clock, Mathieu, who had
come to Paris to see about a threshing-machine at Beauchene's works, was
quietly walking along the Rue La Boetie when he met Cecile Moineaud, who
was carrying a little parcel carefully tied round with string. She was
now nearly twenty-one, but had remained slim, pale, and weak, since
passing through the hands of Dr. Gaude. Mathieu had taken a great liking
to her during the few months she had spent as a servant at Chantebled;
and later, knowing what had befallen her at the hospital, he had
regarded her with deep compassion. He had busied himself to find her
easy work, and a friend of his had given her