A strange phenomenon had taken place in the mind of this creature. The simple painting of a humble and rude condition--the mere recital by turns--lighted up by the soft rays from the domestic hearth, gilded by some joyful sunbeams, refreshed by the breeze of the great woods, or perfumed by the odour of wild flowers,--this narrative had made on La Louve a more profound or more sensible impression than could an exhortation of the most pious morality have effected. In truth, in proportion as Fleur-de-Marie spoke, La Louve had longed to be, and meant to be, an indefatigable manager, a worthy wife, an affectionate and devoted mother. To inspire, even for an instant, a violent, immoral, and degraded woman with a love of home, respect for duty, a taste for labour, and gratitude towards her Creator; and that, by only promising her what God gives to all, the sun, the sky, and the depths of the forest,--what society owes to those who lack a roof and a loaf,--was, indeed, a glorious triumph for Fleur-de-Marie! Could the most severe moralist--the most overpowering preacher--have obtained more in threatening, in their monotonous and menacing orations, all human vengeances--all divine thunders? The painful anger with which La Louve was possessed when she returned to the reality, after having allowed herself to be charmed by the new and wholesome reverie in which, for the first time, Fleur-de-Marie had plunged her, proved the influence of her words on her unfortunate companion. The more bitter were La Louve's regrets when she fell back from this consoling delusion to the horrors of her real position, the greater was La Goualeuse's triumph. After a moment's silence and reflection, La Louve raised her head suddenly, passed her hand over her brow, and rose threatening and angry. "See, see! I had reason to mistrust you, and to desire not to listen to you, because it would turn to ill for me! Why did you talk thus to me? Why make a jest of me? Why mock me? And because I have been so weak as to say to you that I should like to live in the depths of a forest with my man. Who are you, then, that you should make a fool of me in this way? You, miserable girl, don't know what you have done! Now, in spite of myself, I shall always be thinking of this forest, the house, and--and--the children--and all that happiness which I shall never have--never--never! And if I cannot forget what you have told me, why, my life will be one eternal punishment,--a hell,--and that by your fault! Yes, by your fault!" "So much the better! Oh, so much the better!" said Fleur-de-Marie. "You say, so much the better!" exclaimed La Louve, with her eyes glaring. "Yes,--so much the better! For if your present miserable life appears to you a hell, you will prefer that of which I have spoken to you."