purity, felt more and more
confused, more and more ashamed of himself, ashamed of having given heed
to the base, sordid, calculating principles which others made the basis
of their lives. He thought with loathing of the sudden frenzy which had
possessed him during the evening in Paris. Some poison must have been
instilled into his veins; he could not recognize himself. But honor
and rectitude, clear-sightedness and trustfulness in life were fast
returning. Through the window, which had remained open, all the sounds
of the lovely spring night poured into the room. It was spring, the
season of love, and beneath the palpitating stars in the broad heavens,
from fields and forests and waters came the murmur of germinating
life. And never had Mathieu more fully realized that, whatever loss may
result, whatever difficulty may arise, whatever fate may be in store,
all the creative powers of the world, whether of the animal order,
whether of the order of the plants, for ever and ever wage life's great
incessant battle against death. Man alone, dissolute and diseased among
all the other denizens of the world, all the healthful forces of nature,
seeks death for death's sake, the annihilation of his species. Then
Mathieu again caught his wife in a close embrace, printing on her lips a
long, ardent kiss.

"Ah! dear heart, forgive me; I doubted both of us. It would be
impossible for either of us to sleep unless you forgive me. Well, let
the others hold us in derision and contempt if they choose. Let us love
and live as nature tells us, for you are right: therein lies true wisdom
and true courage."

V

MATHIEU rose noiselessly from his little folding iron bedstead beside
the large one of mahogany, on which Marianne lay alone. He looked at
her, and saw that she was awake and smiling.

"What! you are not asleep?" said he. "I hardly dared to stir for fear of
waking you. It is nearly nine o'clock, you know."

It was Sunday morning. January had come round, and they were in Paris.
During the first fortnight in December the weather had proved frightful
at Chantebled, icy rains being followed by snow and terrible cold. This
rigorous temperature, coupled with the circumstance that Marianne was
again expecting to become a mother, had finally induced Mathieu to
accept Beauchene's amiable offer to place at his disposal the little
pavilion in the Rue de la Federation, where the founder of the works had
lived before building the superb