“My dear Reine,” said he, “come with these little ones into the dining-room.  We will see what afternoon snack there is, and lay the cloth.”

This proposal was greeted with shouts of delight, and all the children trooped into the dining-room with Mathieu.  A quarter of an hour later, when everything was ready there, and Valerie came in, the latter’s eyes looked very red, as if she had been weeping.  And that evening, when Mathieu was alone with his wife, he learnt what the trouble was.  Morange’s scheme of leaving the Beauchene works and entering the service of the Credit National, where he would speedily rise to a high and lucrative position, his hope too of giving Reine a big dowry and marrying her off to advantage—­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: