This it was which led to her reconciliation with her husband, and for six months they lived together on the best of terms.  Then, however, came another six months, and it was evident that they no longer agreed so well together, for Beauchene took himself off at times under the pretext of seeking fresh air, and Constance remained at home, feverish, her eyes red with weeping.

One day Mathieu, who had come to Grenelle to see his daughter-in-law, Charlotte, was lingering in the garden playing with little Berthe, who had climbed upon his knees, when he was surprised by the sudden approach of Constance, who must have seen him from her windows.  She invented a pretext to draw him into the house, and kept him there nearly a quarter of an hour before she could make up her mind to speak her thoughts.  Then, all at once, she began:  “My dear Mathieu, you must forgive me for mentioning a painful matter, but there are reasons why I should do so.  Nearly fifteen years ago, I know it for a fact, my husband had a child by a girl who was employed at the works.  And I also know that you acted as his intermediary on that occasion, and made certain arrangements with respect to that girl and her child—­a boy, was it not?”

She paused for a reply.  But Mathieu, stupefied at finding her so well informed, and at a loss to understand why she spoke to him of that sorry affair after the lapse of so many years, could only make a gesture by which he betrayed both his surprise and his anxiety.

“Oh!” said she, “I do not address any reproach to you; I am convinced that your motives were quite friendly, even affectionate, and that you wished to hush up a scandal which might have been very unpleasant for me.  Moreover, I do not desire to indulge in recriminations after so long a time.  My desire is simply for information.  For a long time I did not care to investigate the statements whereby I was informed of the affair.  But the recollection of it comes back to me and haunts me persistently, and it is natural that I should apply to you.  I have never spoken a word on the subject to my husband, and indeed it is best for our tranquillity that I should not attempt to extort a detailed confession from him.  One circumstance which has induced me to speak to you is that on an occasion when I accompanied Madame Angelin to a house in the Rue de Miromesnil, I perceived you there with that girl, who had another child in her arms.  So you have not lost sight of her, and you must know what she is doing, and whether her first child is alive, and in that case where he is, and how he is situated.”

Mathieu still refrained from replying, for Constance’s increasing feverishness put him on his guard, and impelled him to seek the motive of such a strange application on the part of one who was as a rule so proud and so discreet.  What could be happening?  Why did she strive to provoke confidential revelations which might have far-reaching effects?  Then, as she closely scanned him with her keen eyes, he sought to answer her with kind, evasive words.