like tales of the ancient world, which do not concern us. And yet I
believe that, if the mother has not some ideal, in the name of which she
can sacrifice the animal feeling, and if this force finds no employment,
she will transfer it to chimerical attempts to physically preserve her
child, aided in this task by the doctor, and she will suffer as she does
suffer.

"So it was with my wife. Whether there was one child or five, the
feeling remained the same. In fact, it was a little better when there
had been five. Life was always poisoned with fear for the children, not
only from their real or imaginary diseases, but even by their simple
presence. For my part, at least, throughout my conjugal life, all my
interests and all my happiness depended upon the health of my children,
their condition, their studies. Children, it is needless to say, are a
serious consideration; but all ought to live, and in our days parents
can no longer live. Regular life does not exist for them. The whole life
of the family hangs by a hair. What a terrible thing it is to suddenly
receive the news that little Basile is vomiting, or that Lise has a
cramp in the stomach! Immediately you abandon everything, you forget
everything, everything becomes nothing. The essential thing is the
doctor, the enema, the temperature. You cannot begin a conversation but
little Pierre comes running in with an anxious air to ask if he may eat
an apple, or what jacket he shall put on, or else it is the servant who
enters with a screaming baby.

"Regular, steady family life does not exist. Where you live, and
consequently what you do, depends upon the health of the little ones,
the health of the little ones depends upon nobody, and, thanks to the
doctors, who pretend to aid health, your entire life is disturbed. It is
a perpetual peril. Scarcely do we believe ourselves out of it when a new