That very day, soon after his return, Denis and Blaise, Ambroise, Rose,
and Reine were sent round to the Beauchenes', where they filled the house
with their romping mirth. Maurice, however, was again ailing, and had to
lie upon a sofa, disconsolate at being unable to take part in the play of
the others. "He has pains in his legs," said his father to Mathieu, when
he came round to inquire after Marianne; "he's growing so fast, and
getting such a big fellow, you know."

Lightly as Beauchene spoke, his eyes even then wavered, and his face
remained for a moment clouded. Perhaps, in his turn, he also had felt the
passing of that icy breath from the unknown which one evening had made
Constance shudder with dread whilst she clasped her swooning boy in her
arms.

But at that moment Mathieu, who had left Marianne's room to answer
Beauchene's inquiries, was summoned back again. And there he now found
the sunlight streaming brilliantly, like a glorious greeting to new life.
While he yet stood there, dazzled by the glow, the doctor said to him:
"It is a boy."

Then Mathieu leant over his wife and kissed her lovingly. Her beautiful
eyes were still moist with the tears of anguish, but she was already
smiling with happiness.

"Dear, dear wife," said Mathieu, "how good and brave you are, and how I
love you!"

"Yes, yes, I am very happy," she faltered, "and I must try to give you
back all the love that you give me."