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allowed maternal love to have its way。 The mother now seemed the more
delightful because her motherhood had blossomed late。 Like all
generous persons； she passed through sensitive phases of feeling that
she mistook for remorse。 Believing that she had defrauded her children
of the tenderness that should have been theirs； she sought to redeem
those imaginary wrongs； bestowing attentions and tender cares which
made her precious to them； she longed to make her children live； as it
were； within her heart； to shelter them beneath her feeble wings； to
cherish them enough in the few remaining days to redeem the time
during which she had neglected them。 The sufferings of her mind gave
to her words and her caresses a glowing warmth that issued from her
soul。 Her eyes caressed her children； her voice with its yearning
intonations touched their hearts； her hand showered blessings on their
heads。
CHAPTER IX
The good people of Douai were not surprised that visitors were no
longer received at the House of Claes； and that Balthazar gave no more
fetes on the anniversary of his marriage。 Madame Claes's state of
health seemed a sufficient reason for the change； and the payment of
her husband's debts put a stop to the current gossip； moreover； the
political vicissitudes to which Flanders was subjected； the war of the
Hundred…days； and the occupation of the Allied armies； put the chemist
and his researches completely out of people's minds。 During those two
years Douai was so often on the point of being taken； it was so
constantly occupied either by the French or by the enemy； so many
foreigners came there； so many of the country…people sought refuge
within its walls； so many lives were in peril； so many catastrophes
occurred； that each man thought only of himself。
The Abbe de Solis and his nephew； and the two Pierquins； doctor and
lawyer； were the only persons who now visited Madame Claes； for whom
the winter of 1814…1815 was a long and dreary death…scene。 Her husband
rarely came to see her。 It is true that after dinner he remained some
hours in the parlor； near her bed； but as she no longer had the
strength to keep up a conversation； he merely said a few words；
invariably the same； sat down； spoke no more； and a dreary silence
settled down upon the room。 The monotony of this existence was broken
only on the days when the Abbe de Solis and his nephew passed the
evening with Madame Claes。
While the abbe played backgammon with Balthazar； Marguerite talked
with Emmanuel by the bedside of her mother； who smiled at their
innocent joy； not allowing them to see how painful and yet how
soothing to her wounded spirit were the fresh breezes of their virgin
love； murmuring in fitful words from heart to heart。 The inflection of
their voices； to them so full of charm； to her was heart…breaking； a
glance of mutual understanding surprised between the two threw her；
half…dead as she was； back to the young and happy past which gave such
bitterness to the present。 Emmanuel and Marguerite with intuitive
delicacy of feeling repressed the sweet half…childish play of love；
lest it should hurt the saddened woman whose wounds they instinctively
divined。
No one has yet remarked that feelings have an existence of their own；
a nature which is developed by the circumstances that environ them；
and in which they are born； they bear a likeness to the places of
their growth； and keep the imprint of the ideas that influenced their
development。 There are passions ardently conceived which remain
ardent； like that of Madame Claes for her husband： there are
sentiments on which all life has smiled； these retain their spring…
time gaiety； their harvest…time of joy； seasons that never fail of
laughter or of fetes； but there are other loves； framed in melancholy；
circled by distress； whose pleasures are painful； costly； burdened by
fears； poisoned by remorse； or blackened by despair。 The love in the
heart of Marguerite and Emmanuel； as yet unknown to them for love； the
sentiment that budded into life beneath the gloomy arches of the
picture…gallery； beside the stern old abbe； in a still and silent
moment； that love so grave and so discreet； yet rich in tender depths；
in secret delights that were luscious to the taste as stolen grapes
snatched from a corner of the vineyard； wore in coming years the
sombre browns and grays that surrounded the hour of its birth。
Fearing to give expression to their feelings beside that bed of pain；
they unconsciously increased their happiness by a concentration which
deepened its imprint on their hearts。 The devotion of the daughter；
shared by Emmanuel； happy in thus uniting himself with Marguerite and
becoming by anticipation the son of her mother； was their medium of
communication。 Melancholy thanks from the lips of the young girl
supplanted the honeyed language of lovers； the sighing of their
hearts； surcharged with joy at some interchange of looks； was scarcely
distinguishable from the sighs wrung from them by the mother's
sufferings。 Their happy little moments of indirect avowal； of
unuttered promises； of smothered effusion； were like the allegories of
Raphael painted on a black ground。 Each felt a certainty that neither
avowed； they knew the sun was shining over them； but they could not
know what wind might chase away the clouds that gathered about their
heads。 They doubted the future； fearing that pain would ever follow
them； they stayed timidly among the shadows of the twilight； not
daring to say to each other； 〃Shall we end our days together？〃
The tenderness which Madame Claes now testified for her children nobly
concealed much that she endeavored to hide from herself。 Her children
caused her neither fear nor passionate emotion： they were her
comforters； but they were not her life： she lived by them； she died
through Balthazar。 However painful her husband's presence might be to
her； lost as he was for hours together in depths of thought from which
he looked at her without seeing her； it was only during those cruel
moments that she forgot her griefs。 His indifference to the dying
woman would have seemed criminal to a stranger； but Madame Claes and
her daughters were accustomed to it； they knew his heart and they
forgave him。 If； during the daytime； Josephine was seized by some
sudden illness； if she were worse and seemed near dying； Claes was the
only person in the house or in the town who remained ignorant of it。
Lemulquinier knew it； but neither the daughters； bound to silence by
their mother； nor Josephine herself let Balthazar know the danger of
the being he had once so passionately loved。
When his heavy step sounded in the gallery as he came to dinner；
Madame Claes was happyshe was about to see him！ and she gathered up
her strength for that happiness。 As he entered； the pallid face
blushed brightly and recovered for an instant the semblance of health。
Balthazar came to her bedside； took her hand； saw