He had expected to find a carelessness, a feminine indulgence in the education of the two children, and he discovered instead an unexpected development and liveliness of intelligence and body to which he had contributed nothing. His desertion had not brought with it any loss to them. Instead of giving to Elizabeth the credit for it, he was irritated by it, because it seems cruel to us to discover how unimportant our influence may be. The little boy was the first to tire of these effusions and put questions which referred to unimportant events in his life, which were insolvable to anyone who had not been directly concerned in them. Marie Louise herself even discontinued her playfulness and fancies, in order to explain to her brother that Papa could not know, that after all Papa was only an amateur father, who was very little in touch with their doings and movements. This was the meaning of her remarks which she uttered in her little decided authoritative voice. Mamma,--she never left them, except to look after Grandmamma. "It is I who am the stranger here," thought Albert, suffering from such frankness. The conquest of children, even of his own, could not be undertaken in an hour. He left Marie Louise and Philippe, his heart sick with disappointment, his nerves wrung. As soon as he no longer saw their dear little heads, he was filled with an immediate wish to bring them back, to keep them with him, without saying anything to her who had separated them. And when he came back to his mother's house he took with him an added regret, a deep melancholy which Anne's love could no more satisfy than it could his grief for his mother. He remained in the death chamber until evening, filled with despair in relinquishing one by one the ties which had exalted his life. The next day, spent in the same way, was even more cruel to him. He had a letter and a telegram from Anne who was awaiting him at Lyons. He read them absently and in a spirit of injustice! What could she know of his thoughts? When on the morning of the funeral he again saw Elizabeth, who came to do the honors of the house, he wished he had been mistaken the evening before in finding that her expression was changed, that she was more awakened and bearing alone a sorrow as great as his own. She asked him complacently how he was, but pitied him with her looks, with her entire uneasy attitude, friendly and dismayed at one and the same time. The Molay-Norrois arrived in their turn, and manifested an attitude of discreet sympathy toward their son-in-law. Then came other relations and friends. He was accepted once more by the family connections, relatives and the social circle with which he had believed all ties were broken. And in his great pride he endured it with bitterness.