and most practical point of view; and from such a view his
marriage had been rather a failure than otherwise, since the
memory of the little fortune she had brought with her had
vanished with the fortune itself. But it had not been
altogether for money that he had married her; he had been in
love with her at one time, and that time repeated itself, with
a pertinacity not to be shaken off, as he stood now in her
silent presence.

Whatever his feelings may have been, however, they found no
expression then. He turned sharply on the women standing
round, who had already, after the fashion of womankind,
contrived, without speaking, to let him know their opinion of
a man who had left his wife alone for six months at an hotel,
whilst he went and amused himself. He scarcely glanced at the
small daughter, now presented to him for the first time; and
he bade Madame Lavaux, the mistress of the hotel, "make haste
and finish with all that," when, with tearful voice, and
discursive minuteness, she related to him the history of his
wife's last days. He made all necessary arrangements; took
possession of Madame Linders' watch and few trinkets; himself
superintended the packing of her clothes and other trifling
properties into a large trunk, which he left in Madame Lavaux'
charge; attended the funeral on the following day; and
immediately on his return from it, ordered a fiacre to be in
readiness to convey him to the railway station, as he was
going to quit Paris immediately. He was on the point of
departure, when he was confronted by Madame Lavaux and the
nurse bearing the infant, who begged to know if he had any
directions to leave concerning his child.