? Where is he? Those are things which I cannot tell you. A
long inquiry would be necessary. If, however, you wish for my opinion,
I think it probable that he is dead, for the mortality among these poor
cast-off children is very great."

Constance looked at him fixedly. "You are telling me the real truth? You
are hiding nothing?" she asked. And as he began to protest, she went on:
"Yes, yes, I have confidence in you. And so you believe that he is dead!
Ah! to think of all those children who die, when so many women would be
happy to save one, to have one for themselves. Well, if you haven't been
able to tell me anything positive, you have at least done your best.
Thank you."

During the ensuing months Mathieu often found himself alone with
Constance, but she never reverted to the subject. She seemed to set
her energy on forgetting all about it, though he divined that it still
haunted her. Meantime things went from bad to worse in the Beauchene
household. The husband gradually went back to his former life of
debauchery, in spite of all the efforts of Constance to keep him near
her. She, for her part, clung to her fixed idea, and before long she
consulted Boutan. There was a terrible scene that day between husband
and wife in the doctor's presence. Constance raked up the story of
Norine and cast it in Beauchene's teeth, while he upbraided her in a
variety of ways. However, Boutan's advice, though followed for a time,
proved unavailing, and she at last lost confidence in him. Then she
spent months and months in consulting one and another. She placed
herself in the hands of Madame Bourdieu, she even went to see La Rouche,
she applied to all sorts of charlatans, exasperated to fury at finding
that there was no real succor for her. She might long ago have had a
family had she so chosen. But she had elected otherwise, setting all her
egotism and pride on that only son whom death had snatched away; and now
the motherhood she longed for was denied her.

For nearly two years did Constance battle, and at last in despair she
was seized with the idea of consulting Dr. Gaude. He told her the brutal
truth; it was useless for her to address herself to charlatans; she
would simply be robbed by them; there was absolutely no hope for her.
And Gaude uttered those decisive words in a light, jesting way, as
though surprised and amused by her profound grief. She almost fainted
on the stairs as she left his flat, and for a moment indeed death