THE COMPLETE WORKS OF ÉMILE ZOLA. Эмиль Золя

young man continued to laugh.

      “My poor Madeleine,” he would say taking his wife to his arms, “you are nervous tonight. Come, get into bed, and don’t have bad dreams. Geneviève is an old fool, and it is wrong of you to mind her gloomy prayers. It is all habit; formerly, I could not see her open her Bible without being terrified; now, I should feel something was wanting if she did not lull me with her monotonous murmur. Don’t you feel greatly soothed, at night, as we sit lovingly in this silence, tremulous with complaints?”

      “Yes, sometimes,” replied the young wife, “when I don’t catch the words, and her voice moves along like a breath of wind. But what stories of horror! what crimes and punishments!”

      “Geneviève,” William went on to say, “is a devoted creature; she saves us a great deal of trouble and annoyance by looking after everything in the château; she was with us when I was born and when my father was horn too. Do you know that she must be more than ninety years old, and that she is still strong and straight? She will work till she is more than a hundred... You must try to like her, Madeleine; she is an old servant of the family.” Madeleine was not listening. She was rapt in an uneasy reverie. Then, with sudden anxiety, she asked:

      “Do you think that Heaven never pardons?”

      Her husband, surprised and saddened, then kissed her, as he asked her, in a voice touched with emotion, why she had doubts about pardon. She did not give a direct reply but murmured:

      “Geneviève says that Heaven will have its reckoning of tears — There is no pardon.”

      This scene occurred several times. It was, however, the only trouble which disturbed the serenity of the young couple. In this way they passed the first four years of their marriage, in a seclusion scarcely disturbed by the visits of the De Rieus, and in a state of happiness, the smooth course of which even Geneviève’s lamentations were powerless to trouble seriously. It would have taken a greater calamity than this to rack their hearts again.

      It was at the beginning of the fifth year, in the early part of November, that Tiburce accompanied Hélène to Paris. William and Madeleine, certain of not being disturbed again, settled down to spend their winter in the large quiet room where they bad already lived so peacefully for four seasons. At one time, they spoke of going to live in Paris in their little house in the Rue de Boulogne; but they put off this project to the following winter, as they did every year; they could not see any necessity for leaving Véteuil. For two months, from November to January, they lived their secluded life, enlivened by the prattle of little Lucy, who was now growing up. A peaceful tranquillity shed on them its balm, and they thought that they would never be disturbed in their bliss.