cannot bear to have her near me. I smile at her, I try to make up to
her for the real affection of which she is defrauded. I am wretched,
monsieur, too wretched to live. And I am supposed to be a pattern
wife. And I have committed no sins. And I am respected! I have fought
down forbidden love which sprang up at unawares within me; but if I
have kept the letter of the law, have I kept it in my heart? There has
never been but one here," she said, laying her right hand on her
breast, "one and no other; and my child feels it. Certain looks and
tones and gestures mould a child's nature, and my poor little one
feels no thrill in the arm I put about her, no tremor comes into my
voice, no softness into my eyes when I speak to her or take her up.
She looks at me, and I cannot endure the reproach in her eyes. There
are times when I shudder to think that some day she may be my judge
and condemn her mother unheard. Heaven grant that hate may not grow up
between us! Ah! God in heaven, rather let the tomb open for me, rather
let me end my days here at Saint-Lange!--I want to go back to the
world where I shall find my other soul and become wholly a mother. Ah!
forgive me, sir, I am mad. Those words were choking me; now they are
spoken. Ah! you are weeping too! You will not despise me--"

She heard the child come in from a walk. "Helene, my child, come
here!" she called. The words sounded like a cry of despair.

The little girl ran in, laughing and calling to her mother to see a
butterfly which she had caught; but at the sight of that mother's
tears she grew quiet of a sudden, and went up close, and received a
kiss on her forehead.

"She will be very beautiful some day," said the priest.