but here in Paris the spectacle was so unusual that remarks of astonishment, sarcasm, and even compassion were exchanged.  Mathieu and Marianne divined, even if they did not actually hear, these comments, but they cared nothing for them.  They bravely went their way, smiling at one another, and feeling convinced that the course they had taken in life was the right one, whatever other folks might think or say.

It was three o’clock when they turned their steps homeward; and Marianne, feeling rather tired, then took a little rest on a sofa in the drawing-room, where Zoe had previously lighted a good fire.  The children, quieted by fatigue, were sitting round a little table, listening to a tale which Denis read from a story-book, when a visitor was announced.  This proved to be Constance, who, after driving out with Maurice, had thought of calling to inquire after Marianne, whom she saw only once or twice a week, although the little pavilion was merely separated by a garden from the large house on the quay.

“Oh! are you poorly, my dear?” she inquired as she entered the room and perceived Marianne on the sofa.

“Oh! dear, no,” replied the other, “but I have been out walking for the last two hours and am now taking some rest.”

Mathieu had brought an armchair forward for his wife’s rich, vain cousin, who, whatever her real feelings, certainly strove to appear amiable.  She apologized for not being able to call more frequently, and explained what a number of duties she had to discharge as mistress of her home.  Meantime Maurice, clad in black velvet, hung round her petticoats, gazing from a distance at the other children, who one and all returned his scrutiny.

“Well, Maurice,” exclaimed his mother, “don’t you wish your little cousins good-day?”

He had to do as he was bidden and step towards them.  But all five remained embarrassed.  They seldom met, and had as yet had no opportunity to quarrel.  The four little savages of Chantebled felt indeed almost out of their element in the presence of this young Parisian with bourgeois manners.

“And are all your little folks quite well?” resumed Constance, who, with her sharp eyes, was comparing her son with the other lads.  “Ambroise has grown; his elder brothers also look very strong.”

Her examination did not apparently result to Maurice’s advantage.  The latter was tall and looked sturdy, but he had quite a waxen complexion.  Nevertheless, the glance that Constance gave the others was full of irony, disdain, and condemnation.  When she had first heard that Marianne was likely to become a mother once more she had made no secret of her disapproval.  She held to her old opinions more vigorously than ever.

Marianne, knowing full well that they would fall out if they discussed the subject of children, sought another topic of conversation.  She inquired after Beauchene.  “And Alexandre,” said she, “why did you not bring him with you?  I haven’t seen him for a week!”