She did not answer this inquiry, but in her turn, speaking slowly and
gravely, put a question to him: "So it is useless for me to speak to you
of the children, myself and the house?" said she. "You have thought it
all over, you are quite determined?" And as he simply answered "Yes," she
added: "'Tis well, you are the master. . . . I will be the one who is to
remain behind and act. And you may be without fear, your bequest is in
good hands. All that we have decided together shall be done."

Once more they became silent. Then she again inquired: "At four o'clock,
you say, at the moment of that consecration?"

"Yes, at four o'clock."

She was still looking at him with her pale eyes, and there seemed to be
something superhuman in her simplicity and grandeur as she sat there in
her thin black gown. Her glance, in which the greatest bravery and the
deepest sadness mingled, filled Guillaume with acute emotion. His hands
began to tremble, and he asked: "Will you let me kiss you, mother?"

"Oh! right willingly, my son," she responded. "Your path of duty may not
be mine, but you see I respect your views and love you."

They kissed one another, and when Pierre, whom the scene had chilled to
his heart, presented himself as if he were just arriving, Mere-Grand had
quietly taken up her needlework once more, while Guillaume was going to
and fro, setting one of his laboratory shelves in order with all his
wonted activity.

At noon when lunch was ready, they found it necessary to wait for Thomas,
who had not yet come home. His brothers Francois and Antoine complained