Idolized by his father, idolized by his aunt, the young heir was a spoilt child in every sense of the word; but still a spoilt child who justified paternal and maternal illusions.  Maternal, be it said, for Victurnien’s aunt was truly a mother to him; and yet, however careful and tender she may be that never bore a child, there is something lacking in her motherhood.  A mother’s second sight cannot be acquired.  An aunt, bound to her nursling by ties of such pure affection as united Mlle. Armande to Victurnien, may love as much as a mother might; may be as careful, as kind, as tender, as indulgent, but she lacks the mother’s instinctive knowledge when and how to be severe; she has no sudden warnings, none of the uneasy presentiments of the mother’s heart; for a mother, bound to her child from the beginnings of life by all the fibres of her being, still is conscious of the communication, still vibrates with the shock of every trouble, and thrills with every joy in the child’s life as if it were her own.  If Nature has made of woman, physically speaking, a neutral ground, it has not been forbidden to her, under certain conditions, to identify herself completely with her offspring.  When she has not merely given life, but given of her whole life, you behold that wonderful, unexplained, and inexplicable thing—­the love of a woman for one of her children above the others.  The outcome of this story is one more proof of a proven truth—­a mother’s place cannot be filled.  A mother foresees danger long before a Mlle. Armande can admit the possibility of it, even if the mischief is done.  The one prevents the evil, the other remedies it.  And besides, in the maiden’s motherhood there is an element of blind adoration, she cannot bring herself to scold a beautiful boy.

A practical knowledge of life, and the experience of business, had taught the old notary a habit of distrustful clear-sighted observation something akin to the mother’s instinct.  But Chesnel counted for so little in the house (especially since he had fallen into something like disgrace over that unlucky project of a marriage between a d’Esgrignon and a du Croisier), that he had made up his mind to adhere blindly in future to the family doctrines.  He was a common soldier, faithful to his post, and ready to give his life; it was never likely that they would take his advice, even in the height of the storm; unless chance should bring him, like the King’s bedesman in The Antiquary, to the edge of the sea, when the old baronet and his daughter were caught by the high tide.

Du Croisier caught a glimpse of his revenge in the anomalous education given to the lad.  He hoped, to quote the expressive words of the author quoted above, “to drown the lamb in its mother’s milk.” This was the hope which had produced his taciturn resignation and brought that savage smile on his lips.