She was holding the child by the head and body, and her eyes seemed to shed two rays of life into the poor frail creature.

“You are so extraordinarily imprudent,” said the count, sharply; “you expose him to the river damps and let him sit on a stone bench.”

“Why, papa, the stone is burning hot,” cried Madeleine.

“They were suffocating higher up,” said the countess.

“Women always want to prove they are right,” said the count, turning to me.

To avoid agreeing or disagreeing with him by word or look I watched Jacques, who complained of his throat.  His mother carried him away, but as she did so she heard her husband say:—­

“When they have brought such sickly children into the world they ought to learn how to take care of them.”

Words that were cruelly unjust; but his self-love drove him to defend himself at the expense of his wife.  The countess hurried up the steps and across the portico, and I saw her disappear through the glass door.  Monsieur de Mortsauf seated himself on the bench, his head bowed in gloomy silence.  My position became annoying; he neither spoke nor looked at me.  Farewell to the walk he had proposed, in the course of which I had hoped to fathom him.  I hardly remember a more unpleasant moment.  Ought I to go away, or should I not go?  How many painful thoughts must have arisen in his mind, to make him forget to follow Jacques and learn how he was!  At last however he rose abruptly and came towards me.  We both turned and looked at the smiling valley.

“We will put off our walk to another day, Monsieur le comte,” I said gently.

“No, let us go,” he replied.  “Unfortunately, I am accustomed to such scenes—­I, who would give my life without the slightest regret to save that of the child.”

“Jacques is better, my dear; he has gone to sleep,” said a golden voice.  Madame de Mortsauf suddenly appeared at the end of the path.  She came forward, without bitterness or ill-will, and bowed to me.

“I am glad to see that you like Clochegourde,” she said.

“My dear, should you like me to ride over and fetch Monsieur Deslandes?” said the count, as if wishing her to forgive his injustice.

“Don’t be worried,” she said.  “Jacques did not sleep last night, that’s all.  The child is very nervous; he had a bad dream, and I told him stories all night to keep him quiet.  His cough is purely nervous; I have stilled it with a lozenge, and he has gone to sleep.”

“Poor woman!” said her husband, taking her hand in his and giving her a tearful look, “I knew nothing of it.”

“Why should you be troubled when there is no occasion?” she replied.  “Now go and attend to the rye.  You know if you are not there the men will let the gleaners of the other villages get into the field before the sheaves are carried away.”

“I am going to take a first lesson in agriculture, madame,” I said to her.