The servants uttered cries of joy; the marquis and marchioness exchanged
a look, but a very troublous one; they, however, restrained themselves
so far as to simulate a great satisfaction, and the marquis brought
himself to congratulate the servants on their attachment to their master
and mistress. After this they were left alone, looking very serious,
while crackers exploded and violins resounded under the windows. For
some time they preserved silence, the first thought which occurred to
both being that the count and countess had allowed themselves to be
deceived by trifling symptoms, that people had wished to flatter their
hopes, that it was impossible for a constitution to change so suddenly
after twenty years, and that it was a case of simulative pregnancy. This
opinion gaining strength in their minds made them somewhat calmer.

The next day they took a walk side by side in a solitary path in the
park and discussed the chances of their situation. M. de Saint-Maixent
brought before the marchioness the enormous injury which this event
would bring them. He then said that even supposing the news to be true,
there were many rocks ahead to be weathered before the succession could
be pronounced secure.

"The child may die," he said at last.

And he uttered some sinister expressions on the slight damage caused
by the loss of a puny creature without mind, interest, or consequence;
nothing, he said, but a bit of ill-organised matter, which only came
into the world to ruin so considerable a person as the marchioness.

"But what is the use of tormenting ourselves?" he went on impatiently;
"the countess is not pregnant, nor can she be."