Plassans, in a bright little house
of the new town. And thirteen years later, when Saccard, a brother of
Pascal, sent him his daughter Clotilde, aged seven, after his wife's
death and at the moment when he was about to marry again, it was she
who brought up the child, taking it to church, and communicating to it
a little of the devout flame with which she had always burned; while the
doctor, who had a broad mind, left them to their joy of believing,
for he did not feel that he had the right to interdict to any one the
happiness of faith; he contented himself later on with watching over
the young girl's education and giving her clear and sound ideas about
everything. For thirteen years, during which the three had lived this
retired life at La Souleiade, a small property situated in the outskirts
of the town, a quarter of an hour's walk from St. Saturnin, the
cathedral, his life had flowed happily along, occupied in secret great
works, a little troubled, however, by an ever increasing uneasiness--the
collision, more and more violent, every day, between their beliefs.

Pascal took a few turns gloomily up and down the room. Then, like a man
who did not mince his words, he said:

"See, my dear, all this phantasmagoria of mystery has turned your pretty
head. Your good God had no need of you; I should have kept you for
myself alone; and you would have been all the better for it."

But Clotilde, trembling with excitement, her clear eyes fixed boldly
upon his, held her ground.

"It is you, master, who would be all the better, if you did not shut
yourself up in your eyes of flesh. That is another thing, why do you not
wish to see?"

And Martine came to her assistance, in her own style.

"Indeed, it is true, monsieur, that you, who are a saint, as I say
everywhere, should accompany us to church. Assuredly, God will save
you. But at the bare idea that you should not go straight to paradise, I
tremble all over."

He paused, for he had before him, in open revolt, those two whom he had
been accustomed to see submissive at his feet, with the tenderness of
women won over by his gaiety and his goodness. Already he opened his
mouth, and was going to answer roughly, when the uselessness of the
discussion became apparent to him.

"There! Let us have peace. I would do better to go and work. And above
all, let no one interrupt me!"

With hasty steps he gained his chamber, where he had installed a sort of
laboratory, and shut himse