Through all the preoccupations of science, the desire to see his native town, his house, his family, agitated Balthazar’s mind.  His daughter’s letters had told him of the happy family events; he dreamed of crowning his career by a series of experiments that must lead to the solution of the great Problem, and he awaited Marguerite’s arrival with extreme impatience.

The daughter threw herself into her father’s arms and wept for joy.  This time she came to seek a recompense for years of pain, and pardon for the exercise of her domestic authority.  She seemed to herself criminal, like those great men who violate the liberties of the people for the safety of the nation.  But she shuddered as she now contemplated her father and saw the change which had taken place in him since her last visit.  Monsieur Conyncks shared the secret alarm of his niece, and insisted on taking Balthazar as soon as possible to Douai, where the influence of his native place might restore him to health and reason amid the happiness of a recovered domestic life.

After the first transports of the heart were over,—­which were far warmer on Balthazar’s part than Marguerite had expected,—­he showed a singular state of feeling towards his daughter.  He expressed regret at receiving her in a miserable inn, inquired her tastes and wishes, and asked what she would have to eat, with the eagerness of a lover; his manner was even that of a culprit seeking to propitiate a judge.

Marguerite knew her father so well that she guessed the motive of this solicitude; she felt sure he had contracted debts in the town which he wished to pay before his departure.  She observed him carefully for a time, and saw the human heart in all its nakedness.  Balthazar had dwindled from his true self.  The consciousness of his abasement, and the isolation of his life in the pursuit of science made him timid and childish in all matters not connected with his favorite occupations.  His daughter awed him; the remembrance of her past devotion, of the energy she had displayed, of the powers he had allowed her to take away from him, of the wealth now at her command, and the indefinable feelings that had preyed upon him ever since the day when he had abdicated a paternity he had long neglected,—­all these things affected his mind towards her, and increased her importance in his eyes.  Conyncks was nothing to him beside Marguerite; he saw only his daughter, he thought only of her, and seemed to fear her, as certain weak husbands fear a superior woman who rules them.  When he raised his eyes and looked at her, Marguerite noticed with distress an expression of fear, like that of a child detected in a fault.  The noble girl was unable to reconcile the majestic and terrible expression of that bald head, denuded by science and by toil, with the puerile smile, the eager servility exhibited on the lips and countenance of the old man.  She suffered from the contrast of that greatness to that littleness, and resolved to use her utmost influence to restore her father’s sense of dignity before the solemn day on which he was to reappear in the bosom of his family.  Her first step when they were alone was to ask him,—­