French fiction -- Translations into English; Philosophical anthropology -- Fiction
Thus it happened that Balthazar was again carried away by a passion all
the more violent because it had lain dormant so long. Marguerite,
who watched every evidence of her father’s state of mind, opened the
long-closed parlor. By living in it she recalled the painful memories
which her mother’s death had caused, and succeeded for a time in
re-awaking her father’s grief, and retarding his plunge into the gulf to
the depths of which he was, nevertheless, doomed to fall. She determined
to go into society and force Balthazar to share in its distractions.
Several good marriages were proposed to her, which occupied Claes’s
mind, but to all of them she replied that she should not marry until
after she was twenty-five. But in spite of his daughter’s efforts, in
spite of his remorseful struggles, Balthazar, at the beginning of the
winter, returned secretly to his researches. It was difficult, however,
to hide his operations from the inquisitive women in the kitchen; and
one morning Martha, while dressing Marguerite, said to her:--
“Mademoiselle, we are as good as lost. That monster of a Mulquinier--who
is a devil disguised, for I never saw him make the sign of the
cross--has gone back to the garret. There’s monsieur on the high-road to
hell. Pray God he mayn’t kill you as he killed my poor mistress.”
“It is not possible!” exclaimed Marguerite.
“Come and see the signs of their traffic.”
Mademoiselle Claes ran to the window and saw the light smoke rising from
the flue of the laboratory.
“I shall be twenty-one in a few months,” she thought, “and I shall know
how to oppose the destruction of our property.”
In giving way to his passion Balthazar necessarily felt less respect
for the interests of his children than he formerly had felt for the
happiness of his wife. The barriers were less high, his conscience was
more elastic, his passion had increased in strength. He now set forth in
his career of glory, toil, hope, and poverty, with the fervor of a man
profoundly trustful of his convictions. Certain of the result, he worked
night and day with a fury that alarmed his daughters, who did not know
how little a man is injured by work that gives him pleasure.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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