proached Madame de
Mortsauf, who suddenly dropped the book in which Madeleine was reading
to her and took Jacques upon her knees, in the paroxysms of a violent
cough.

"What's the matter?" cried the count, turning livid.

"A sore throat," answered the mother, who seemed not to see me; "but it
is nothing serious."

She was holding the child by the head and body, and her eyes seemed to
shed two rays of life into the poor frail creature.

"You are so extraordinarily imprudent," said the count, sharply; "you
expose him to the river damps and let him sit on a stone bench."

"Why, papa, the stone is burning hot," cried Madeleine.

"They were suffocating higher up," said the countess.

"Women always want to prove they are right," said the count, turning to
me.

To avoid agreeing or disagreeing with him by word or look I watched
Jacques, who complained of his throat. His mother carried him away, but
as she did so she heard her husband say:--

"When they have brought such sickly children into the world they ought
to learn how to take care of them."

Words that were cruelly unjust; but his self-love drove him to defend
himself at the expense of his wife. The countess hurried up the steps
and across the portico, and I saw her disappear through the glass door.
Monsieur de Mortsauf seated himself on the bench, his head bowed in
gloomy silence. My position became annoying; he neither spoke nor looked
at me. Farewell to the walk he had proposed, in the course of which I
had hoped to fathom him. I hardly remember a more unpleasant moment.
Ought I to go away, or should I not go? How many painful thoughts must
have arisen in his mind, to make him forget to follow Jacques and learn
how he was! At last however he rose abruptly and came towards me. We
both turned and looked at the smiling valley.

"We will put off our walk to another day, Monsieur le comte," I said
gently.

"No, let us go," he replied. "Unfortunately, I am accustomed to such
scenes--I, who would give my life without the slightest regret to save
that of the child."

"Jacques is better, my dear; he has gone to sleep," said a golden voice.
Madame de Mortsauf suddenly appeared at the end of the path. She came
forward, without bitterness or ill-will, and bowed to me.

"I am glad to see that you like Clochegourde," she said.

"My dear, should you like me to ride over and fetch Monsieur Deslandes?"
said the count, as if wishing her to forgive his injustice.

"