hristine emerged from the lane and found themselves in front of a large
estate, where a big white building stood, girt with fine trees, they
learnt from an old peasant woman that La Richaudiere, as it was called,
had belonged to the Margaillans for three years past. They had paid
fifteen hundred thousand francs for it, and had just spent more than a
million in improvements.

'That part of the country won't see much of us in future,' said Claude,
as they returned to Bennecourt. 'Those monsters spoil the landscape.'

Towards the end of the summer, an important event changed the current
of their lives. Christine was _enceinte_. At first, both she and Claude
felt amazed and worried. Now for the first time they seemed to dread
some terrible complications in their life. Later on, however, they
gradually grew accustomed to the thought of what lay before them and
made all necessary preparations. But the winter proved a terribly
inclement one, and Christine was compelled to remain indoors, whilst
Claude went walking all alone over the frost-bound, clanking roads.
And he, finding himself in solitude during these walks, after months of
constant companionship, wondered at the way his life had turned, against
his own will, as it were. He had never wished for home life even with
her; had he been consulted, he would have expressed his horror of it;
it had come about, however, and could not be undone, for--without
mentioning the child--he was one of those who lack the courage to break
off. This fate had evidently been in store for him, he felt; he had been
destined to succumb to the first woman who did not feel ashamed of him.
The hard ground resounded beneath his wooden-soled shoes, and the blast
froze the current of his reverie, which lingered on vague thoughts, on
his luck of having, at any rate, met with a good and honest girl, on how
cruelly he would have suffered had it been otherwise. And then his love
came back to him; he hurried home to take Christine in his trembling
arms as if he had been in danger of losing her.

The child, a boy, was born about the middle of February, and at once
began to revolutionise the home, for Christine, who had shown herself
such an active housewife, proved to be a very awkward nurse. She failed
to become motherly, despite her kind heart and her distress at the sight
of the slightest pimple. She soon grew weary, gave in, and called for
Melie, who only made matters worse by her gaping stupidity. The