ast-table or the dinner-table, she guessed that Balthazar's
experiments were satisfactory, and there were prospects of a coming
success; if, on the other hand, the man were morose and gloomy, she
looked at him and trembled,--Balthazar must surely be dissatisfied.
Mistress and valet ended by understanding each other, notwithstanding
the proud reserve of the one and the reluctant submission of the other.

Feeble and defenceless against the terrible prostrations of thought, the
poor woman at last gave way under the alternations of hope and despair
which increased the distress of the loving wife, and the anxieties of
the mother trembling for her children. She now practised the doleful
silence which formerly chilled her heart, not observing the gloom that
pervaded the house, where whole days went by in that melancholy parlor
without a smile, often without a word. Led by sad maternal foresight,
she trained her daughters to household work, and tried to make them
skilful in womanly employments, that they might have the means of
living if destitution came. The outward calm of this quiet home covered
terrible agitations. Towards the end of the summer Balthazar had used
the money derived from the diamonds, and was twenty thousand francs in
debt to Messieurs Protez and Chiffreville.

In August, 1813, about a year after the scene with which this history
begins, although Claes had made a few valuable experiments, for which,
unfortunately, he cared but little, his efforts had been without result
as to the real object of his researches. There came a day when he ended
the whole series of experiments, and the sense of his impotence crushed
him; the certainty of having fruitlessly wasted enormous sums of money
drove him to despair. It was a frightful catastrophe. He left the
garret, descended slowly to the parlor, and threw himself into a chair
in the midst of his children, remaining motionless for some minutes as
though dead, making no answer to the questions his wife pressed upon
him. Tears came at last to his relief, and he rushed to his own chamber
that no one might witness his despair.

Josephine followed him and drew him into her own room, where, alone with
her, Balthazar gave vent to his anguish. These tears of a man, these
broken words of the hopeless toiler, these bitter regrets of the husband
and father, did Madame Claes more harm than all her past sufferings. The
victim consoled the executioner. When Balthazar said to her in a