als altered, his own importance reduced, his authority even
ignored.

But what mattered now to his young wife the ill-humor which he no
longer took the trouble to conceal? Mother, she defied her tyrant.

Now, at least, she had in this world a being upon whom she could
lavish all her caresses so brutally repelled. There existed a soul
within which she reigned supreme. What troubles would not a smile
of her son have made her forget?

With the admirable instinct of an egotist, M. Favoral understood so
well what passed in the mind of his wife, that he dared not complain
too much of what the little fellow cost. He made up his mind bravely;
and when four years later, his daughter Gilberte was born, instead
of lamenting:

"Bash!" said he: "God blesses large families."

VII

But already, at this time, M. Vincent Favoral's situation had been
singularly modified.

The revolution of 1848 had just taken place. The factory in the
Faubourg St. Antoine, where he was employed, had been compelled to
close its doors.

One evening, as he came home at the usual hour, he announced that
he had been discharged.

Mme. Favoral shuddered at the thought of what her husband might be,
without work, and deprived of his salary.

"What is to become of us?" she murmured.

He shrugged his shoulders. Visibly he was much excited. His cheeks
were flushed; his eyes sparkled.

"Bash!" he said: "we shan't starve for all that." And, as his wife
was gazing at him in astonishment:

"Well," he went on, "what are you looking at? It is so: I know many a one
who affects to live on his income, and who are not as well off as
we are."

It was, for over six years since he was married, the first time that
he spoke of his business otherwise than to groan and complain, to
accuse fate, and curse the high price of living. The very day before,
he had declared himself ruined by the purchase of a pair of shoes
for Maxence. The change was so sudden and so great, that she hardly
knew what to think, and wondered if grief at the loss of his situation
had not somewhat disturbed his mind.

"Such are women," he went on with a giggle. "Results astonish them,
because they know nothing of the means used to bring them about. Am
I a fool, then? Would I impose upon myself privations of all sorts,
if it were to accomplish nothing? Parbleu! I love fine living
too, I do, and good dinners at the restaurant, and the theatre, and
the nice little excursion