And as the servant rose to leave the room, seeing the turn the
conversation was taking, she stopped her by a quick gesture.

"No, no, Martine; stay! You are not in the way, since you are now one
of the family."

Then, in a hissing voice:

"A collection of falsehoods, of gossip, all the lies that our enemies,
enraged by our triumph, hurled against us in former days! Think a
little of that, my child. Against all of us, against your father,
against your mother, against your brother, all those horrors!"

"But how do you know they are horrors, grandmother?"

She was disconcerted for a moment.

"Oh, well; I suspect it! Where is the family that has not had
misfortunes which might be injuriously interpreted? Thus, the mother
of us all, that dear and venerable Aunt Dide, your great-grandmother,
has she not been for the past twenty-one years in the madhouse at the
Tulettes? If God has granted her the grace of allowing her to live to
the age of one hundred and four years, he has also cruelly afflicted
her in depriving her of her reason. Certainly, there is no shame in
that; only, what exasperates me--what must not be--is that they should
say afterward that we are all mad. And, then, regarding your
grand-uncle Macquart, too, deplorable rumors have been spread. Macquart
had his faults in past days, I do not seek to defend him. But to-day, is
he not living very reputably on his little property at the Tulettes, two
steps away from our unhappy mother, over whom he watches like a good