rheumatic he thought them, had been alarming him for some time past;
he saw himself in fancy already an invalid tied down to an easy-chair;
and his father's sudden return to France, the fresh activity which
Saccard was putting forth, completed his disquietude. He knew well
this devourer of millions; he trembled at finding him again bustling
about him with his good-humored, malicious laugh. He felt that he was
being watched, and he had the conviction that he would be cut up and
devoured if he should be for a single day at his mercy, rendered
helpless by the pains which were invading his limbs. And so great a
fear of solitude had taken possession of him that he had now yielded
to the idea of seeing his son again. If he found the boy gentle,
intelligent, and healthy, why should he not take him to live with him?
He would thus have a companion, an heir, who would protect him against
the machinations of his father. Gradually he came to see himself, in
his selfish forethought, loved, petted, and protected; yet for all
that he might not have risked such a journey, if his physician had not
just at that time sent him to the waters of St. Gervais. Thus, having
to go only a few leagues out of his way, he had dropped in
unexpectedly that morning on old Mme. Rougon, firmly resolved to take
the train again in the evening, after having questioned her and seen
the boy.

At two o'clock Pascal and Clotilde were still beside the fountain
under the plane trees where they had taken their coffee, when Felicite
arrived with Maxime.

"My dear, here's a surprise! I have brought you your brother."

Startled, the young girl had risen, seeing this thin and sallow
stranger, whom she scarcely recognized. Since their parting in 1854