A very sad event marked the first months of our life in our new home: Eugénie lost her mother. Dear Madame Dumeillan was taken from us after a short illness, when we had every reason to hope that we might long enjoy her presence and her affection. I felt the loss almost as keenly as my wife, for Madame Dumeillan was our best friend. Careful not to take part in our disputes, pretending not to notice them, Madame Dumeillan, without blaming either of us, had the art of bringing us together again, and of reviving the most affectionate sentiments in our hearts. Whenever Eugénie had been to see her mother, I knew it at once, because she was more amiable with me. Ah! how seldom do we see parents who long for our happiness without trying to govern our conduct, our actions; and without fatiguing us with their advice! The loss we had sustained was irreparable; one does not meet twice in one’s life people who love us for ourselves alone and who do not impose a thousand obligations on us as the price of their affection. Eugénie’s sorrow was very deep and very keen. To divert her, I took her into society. We went to evening parties, to the theatre, to concerts; we received company at our house more frequently. The commotion of society does not altogether enable one to forget one’s loss, but it gives one employment and distraction. There are sorrows with which one loves to withdraw into oneself; there are others which compel us to shun ourselves, and in which reflection is deadly. We brought our daughter home. Her presence helped to divert my wife’s thoughts from her grief. The sight of her Henriette, her caresses, her first words, unintelligible to anybody but ourselves, enabled Eugénie at last to endure the loss she had sustained. A woman is a daughter before she is a mother, but she is a mother much longer than she has been a daughter; and in our hearts affection does not look backward, it inclines rather toward the later generation. Madame Dumeillan’s death made my wife richer than I by four thousand francs a year. I did not envy her her wealth, but I regretted that my children should owe more to their mother than to me. That thought led me to work much harder; I passed a large part of my time in my study and at the Palais. We saw each other less frequently; was that the reason that we agreed better? I hoped that that circumstance was not accountable for it. I was always glad to return to Eugénie and I was very happy when I held my daughter in my arms. My little Henriette was so pretty! she seemed already very bright and intelligent to me, and I was disposed to spoil her, to do whatever she wished; but my wife was more strict than I.