--all the ambitious dreams of rank and
wealth in which his wife and he had indulged, now showed no likelihood
of fulfilment, since it seemed probable that Valerie might again have
a child. Both she and her husband were in despair over it, and though
Marianne had done her utmost to pacify her friend and reconcile her
to circumstances, there were reasons to fear that in her distracted
condition she might do something desperate.

Four days later, when the Froments lunched with the Seguins du Hordel
at the luxurious mansion in the Avenue d'Antin, they came upon similar
trouble there. Seguin, who was positively enraged, did not scruple to
accuse his wife of infidelity, and, on his side, he took to quite a
bachelor life. He had been a gambler in his younger days, and had never
fully cured himself of that passion, which now broke out afresh, like a
fire which has only slumbered for a time. He spent night after night at
his club, playing at baccarat, and could be met in the betting ring
at every race meeting. Then, too, he glided into equivocal society and
appeared at home only at intervals to vent his irritation and spite and
jealousy upon his ailing wife.

She, poor woman, was absolutely guiltless of the charges preferred
against her. But knowing her husband, and unwilling for her own part to
give up her life of pleasure, she had practised concealment as long
as possible. And now she was really very ill, haunted too by an
unreasoning, irremovable fear that it would all end in her death.
Mathieu, who had seen her but a few months previously looking so
fair and fresh, was amazed to find her such a wreck. And on her side
Valentine gazed, all astonishment, at Marianne, noticing with surprise
how calm and strong the young woman seemed, and how limpid her clear and
smiling eyes remained.

On the day of the Froments' visit Seguin had gone out early in the
morning, and when they arrived he had not yet returned. Thus the lunch
was for a short time kept waiting, and during the interval Celeste, the
maid, entered the room where the visitors sat near her mistress, who was
stretched upon a sofa, looking a perfect picture of distress. Valentine
turned a questioning glance on the servant, who forthwith replied:

"No, madame, Monsieur has not come back yet. But that woman of my
village is here. You know, madame, the woman I spoke to you about,
Sophie Couteau, La Couteau as we call her at Rougemont, who brings
nurses to Paris?"

"Well,