his ruin.  Women and gaming had been responsible for the loss of part of his large fortune, and now horses were devouring the remainder.  It was said, too, that he gambled at the bourse, in the hope of recouping himself for his losses on the turf, and by way, too, of affecting an air of power and influence, for he allowed it to be supposed that he obtained information direct from members of the Government.  And as his losses increased and downfall threatened him, all that remained of the bel esprit and moralist, once so prone to discuss literature and social philosophy with Santerre, was an embittered, impotent individual—­one who had proclaimed himself a pessimist for fashion’s sake, and was now caught in his own trap; having so spoilt his existence that he was now but an artisan of corruption and death.

All was disaster in his home.  Celeste the maid had long since been dismissed, and the children were now in the charge of a certain German governess called Nora, who virtually ruled the house.  Her position with respect to Seguin was evident to one and all; but then, what of Seguin’s wife and Santerre?  The worst was, that this horrible life, which seemed to be accepted on either side, was known to the children, or, at all events, to the elder daughter Lucie, yet scarcely in her teens.  There had been terrible scenes with this child, who evinced a mystical disposition, and was ever talking of becoming a nun when she grew up.  Gaston, her brother, resembled his father; he was brutal in his ways, narrow-minded, supremely egotistical.  Very different was the little girl Andree, whom La Catiche had suckled.  She had become a pretty child—­so affectionate, docile, and gay, that she scarcely complained even of her brother’s teasing, almost bullying ways.  “What a pity,” thought Mathieu, “that so lovable a child should have to grow up amid such surroundings!”

And then his thoughts turned to his own home—­to Chantebled.  The debts contracted at the outset of his enterprise had at last been paid, and he alone was now the master there, resolved to have no other partners than his wife and children.  It was for each of his children that he conquered a fresh expanse of land.  That estate would remain their home, their source of nourishment, the tie linking them together, even if they became dispersed through the world in a variety of social positions.  And thus how decisive was that growth of the property, the acquisition of that last lot of marshland which allowed the whole plateau to be cultivated!  There might now come yet another child, for there would be food for him; wheat would grow to provide him with daily bread.  And when the work was finished, when the last springs were captured, and the land had been drained and cleared, how prodigious was the scene at springtide!—­with the whole expanse, as far as eye could see, one mass of greenery, full of the promise of harvest.  Therein was compensation for every tear, every worry and anxiety of the earlier days of labor.