accidents of life.

But the young man spoke as master. He claimed work as children claim
toys, not from a feeling of duty, but by instinct, by a necessity of
nature. The tenderness, the devotedness of his mother had instilled into
him an egotism that was ferocious. He fancied he loved those who pitied
and caressed him; but, in reality, he lived apart, within himself,
loving naught but his comfort, seeking by all possible means to increase
his enjoyment. When the tender affection of Madame Raquin disgusted him,
he plunged with delight into a stupid occupation that saved him from
infusions and potions.

In the evening, on his return from the office, he ran to the bank of the
Seine with his cousin Therese who was then close upon eighteen. One day,
sixteen years previously, while Madame Raquin was still a mercer, her
brother Captain Degans brought her a little girl in his arms. He had
just arrived from Algeria.

"Here is a child," said he with a smile, "and you are her aunt. The
mother is dead and I don't know what to do with her. I'll give her to
you."

The mercer took the child, smiled at her and kissed her rosy cheeks.
Although Degans remained a week at Vernon, his sister barely put a
question to him concerning the little girl he had brought her. She
understood vaguely that the dear little creature was born at Oran, and
that her mother was a woman of the country of great beauty. The Captain,
an hour before his departure, handed his sister a certificate of birth
in which Therese, acknowledged by him to be his child, bore his name. He
rejoined his regiment, and was never seen again at Vernon, being killed