‘Madame Vanzade is dead,’ she said.

He looked surprised.  Ah! really?  How did she, Christine, know it?

’I met the old man-servant.  Oh, he’s a gentleman by now, looking very sprightly, in spite of his seventy years.  I did not know him again.  It was he who spoke to me.  Yes, she died six weeks ago.  Her millions have gone to various charities, with the exception of an annuity to the old servants, upon which they are living snugly like people of the middle-classes.’

He looked at her, and at last murmured, in a saddened voice:  ’My poor Christine, you are regretting things now, aren’t you?  She would have given you a marriage portion, have found you a husband!  I told you so in days gone by.  She would, perhaps, have left you all her money, and you wouldn’t now be starving with a crazy fellow like myself.’

She then seemed to wake from her dream.  She drew her chair to his, caught hold of one of his arms and nestled against him, as if her whole being protested against his words: 

’What are you saying?  Oh! no; oh! no.  It would have been shameful to have thought of her money.  I would confess it to you if it were the case, and you know that I never tell lies; but I myself don’t know what came over me when I heard the news.  I felt upset and saddened, so sad that I imagined everything was over for me.  It was no doubt remorse; yes, remorse at having deserted her so brutally, poor invalid that she was, the good old soul who called me her daughter!  I behaved very badly, and it won’t bring me luck.  Ah! don’t say “No,” I feel it well enough; henceforth there’s an end to everything for me.’

Then she wept, choked by those confused regrets, the significance of which she failed to understand, regrets mingling with the one feeling that her life was spoilt, and that she now had nothing but unhappiness before her.

‘Come, wipe your eyes,’ said Claude, becoming affectionate once more.  ’Is it possible that you, who were never nervous, can conjure up chimeras and worry yourself in this way?  Dash it all, we shall get out of our difficulties!  First of all, you know that it was through you that I found the subject for my picture.  There cannot be much of a curse upon you, since you bring me luck.’

He laughed, and she shook her head, seeing well enough that he wanted to make her smile.  She was suffering on account of his picture already; for on the bridge he had completely forgotten her, as if she had ceased to belong to him!  And, since the previous night, she had realised that he was farther and farther removed from her, alone in a world to which she could not ascend.  But she allowed him to soothe her, and they exchanged one of their kisses of yore, before rising from the table to retire to rest.

Little Jacques had heard nothing.  Benumbed by his stillness, he had fallen asleep, with his cheek on his picture-book; and his big head, so heavy at times that it bent his neck, looked pale in the lamplight.  Poor little offspring of genius, which, when it begets at all, so often begets idiocy or physical imperfection!  When his mother put him to bed Jacques did not even open his eyes.