He turned as red as fire and, in his shame and misery, did not know which way to look.  But if he attempted to speak she became as stiff as a poker, and, raising her small hand, “Taisez-vous des egards, sil vous plait.”

It must be said in her excuse that, notwithstanding the daring books which she had written, she had had no experience of real life; she knew no form of words for such an occasion.  It came at last to this pass, that she, who had at one time wished to control his whole life and every thought in it, and who would not share him with any one, not even with a book, gradually became unwilling to have any relations with him outside his studies.

The French language especially lends itself to formal intercourse and diplomacy.  They grasped this fact from the first.  It may, indeed, have contributed to form their mutual life.  It was more equitable and caused fewer collisions.  At the slightest disagreement it was at once “Monsieur mon fils” or simply “Monsieur,” or “Madame ma mere,” or “Madame.”

At one time his health seemed likely to suffer:  his rapid growth and the studies, to which she kept him very closely, were too much for his strength.

But just then something remarkable occurred.  At the time when Rafael was nineteen he was one day in a French chemical factory, and, as it were in a flash, saw how half the power used in the machinery might be saved.  The son of the owner who had brought him there was a fellow-student.  To him he confided his discovery.  They worked it out together with feverish excitement to the most minute details.  It was very complex, for it was the working of the factory itself which was involved.  The scheme was carefully gone into by the owner, his son, and their assistants together, and it was decided to try it.  It was entirely successful; less than half the motive power now sufficed.

Rafael was away at the time that it was inaugurated; he had gone down a mine.  His mother was not with him; he never took her down mines with him.  As soon as ever he returned home he hurried off with her to see the result of his work.  They saw everything, and they both blushed at the respect shown to them by the workmen.  They were quite touched when, the owner being called, they heard his expressions of boundless delight.  Champagne flowed for them, accompanied by the warmest thanks.  The mother received a beautiful bouquet.  Excited by the wine and the congratulations, proud of his recognition as a genius, Rafael left the place with his mother on his arm.  It seemed to him as though he were on one side, and all the rest of the world on the other.  His mother walked happily beside him, with her bouquet in her hand.  Rafael wore a new overcoat—­one after his own heart, very long and faced with silk, and of which he was excessively proud.  It was a clear winter’s day; the sun shone on the silk, and on something more as well.

“There is not a speck on the sky, mother,” he said.