seemed
welcome. But by a great effort of will she recovered self-possession,
the courage to face the life of loneliness that now lay before her.
Moreover, another idea vaguely dawned upon her, and the first time she
found herself alone with Mathieu she again spoke to him of Norine's boy.

"Forgive me," said she, "for reverting to a painful subject, but I am
suffering too much now that I know there is no hope for me. I am haunted
by the thought of that illegitimate child of my husband's. Will you do
me a great service? Make the inquiry you once spoke to me about, try to
find out if he is alive or dead. I feel that when I know the facts peace
may perhaps return to me."

Mathieu was almost on the point of answering her that, even if this
child were found again, it could hardly cure her of her grief at having
no child of her own. He had divined her agony at seeing Blaise take
Maurice's place at the works now that Beauchene had resumed his
dissolute life, and daily intrusted the young man with more and more
authority. Blaise's home was prospering too; Charlotte had now given
birth to a second child, a boy, and thus fruitfulness was invading the
place and usurpation becoming more and more likely, since Constance
could never more have an heir to bar the road of conquest. Without
penetrating her singular feelings, Mathieu fancied that she perhaps
wished to sound him to ascertain if he were not behind Blaise, urging
on the work of spoliation. She possibly imagined that her request
would make him anxious, and that he would refuse to make the necessary
researches. At this idea he decided to do as she desired, if only to
show her that he was above all the base calculations of ambition.

"I am at your disposal, cousin," said he. "It is enough for me that this
inquiry may give you a little relief. But if the lad is alive, am I to
bring him to you?"

"Oh! no, no, I do not ask that!" And then, gesticulating almost wildly,
she stammered: "I don't know what I want, but I suffer so dreadfully
that I am scarce able to live!"

In point of fact a tempest raged within her, but she really had no
settled plan. One could hardly say that she really thought of that
boy as a possible heir. In spite of her hatred of all conquerors from
without, was it likely that she would accept him as a conqueror, in
the face of her outraged womanly feelings and her bourgeois horror
of illegitimacy? And yet if he were not her son, he was at least her
husband