et　imaginings；　that　child　is　an　incomplete　creation。　Yes；　those　two　should　find　the　poetic　dreams　of　their　intimate　double　life　realized　in　their　child　as　in　an　exquisite　miniature；　it　should　be　for　them　a　never…failing　spring　of　emotion；　implying　their　whole　past　and　their　whole　future。
  〃My　poor　little　Helene　is　her　father's　child；　the　offspring　of　duty　and　of　chance。　In　me　she　finds　nothing　but　the　affection　of　instinct；　the　woman's　natural　compassion　for　the　child　of　her　womb。　Socially　speaking；　I　am　above　reproach。　Have　I　not　sacrificed　my　life　and　my　happiness　to　my　child？　Her　cries　go　to　my　heart；　if　she　were　to　fall　into　the　water；　I　should　spring　to　save　her；　but　she　is　not　in　my　heart。
  〃Ah！　love　set　me　dreaming　of　a　motherhood　far　greater　and　more　complete。　In　a　vanished　dream　I　held　in　my　arms　a　child　conceived　in　desire　before　it　was　begotten；　the　exquisite　flower　of　life　that　blossoms　in　the　soul　before　it　sees　the　light　of　day。　I　am　Helene's　mother　only　in　the　sense　that　I　brought　her　forth。　When　she　needs　me　no　longer；　there　will　be　an　end　of　my　motherhood；　with　the　extinction　of　the　cause；　the　effects　will　cease。　If　it　is　a　woman's　adorable　prerogative　that　her　motherhood　may　last　through　her　child's　life；　surely　that　divine　persistence　of　sentiment　is　due　to　the　far…reaching　glory　of　the　conception　of　the　soul？　Unless　a　child　has　lain　wrapped　about　from　life's　first　beginnings　by　the　mother's　soul；　the　instinct　of　motherhood　dies　in　her　as　in　the　animals。　This　is　true；　I　feel　that　it　is　true。　As　my　poor　little　one　grows　older；　my　heart　closes。　My　sacrifices　have　driven　us　apart。　And　yet　I　know；　monsieur；　that　to　another　child　my　heart　would　have　gone　out　in　inexhaustible　love；　for　that　other　I　should　not　have　known　what　sacrifice　meant；　all　had　been　delight。　In　this；　monsieur；　my　instincts　are　stronger　than　reason；　stronger　than　religion　or　all　else　in　me。　Does　the　woman　who　is　neither　wife　nor　mother　sin　in　wishing　to　die　when；　for　her　misfortune；　she　has　caught　a　glimpse　of　the　infinite　beauty　of　love；　the　limitless　joy　of　motherhood？　What　can　become　of　her？　/I/　can　tell　you　what　she　feels。　I　cannot　put　that　memory　from　me　so　resolutely　but　that　a　hundred　times；　night　and　day；　visions　of　a　happiness；　greater　it　may　be　than　the　reality；　rise　before　me；　followed　by　a　shudder　which　shakes　brain　and　heart　and　body。　Before　these　cruel　visions；　my　feelings　and　thoughts　grow　colorless；　and　I　ask　myself；　'What　would　my　life　have　been　/if/？'　〃
  She　hid　her　face　in　her　hands　and　burst　into　tears。
  〃There　you　see　the　depths　of　my　heart！〃　she　continued。　〃For　/his/　child　I　could　have　acquiesced　in　any　lot　however　dreadful。　He　who　died；　bearing　the　burden　of　the　sins　of　the　world　will　forgive　this　thought　of　which　I　am　dying；　but　the　world；　I　know；　is　merciless。　In　its　ears　my　words　are　blasphemies；　I　am　outraging　all　its　codes。　Oh！　that　I　could　wage　war　against　this　world　and　break　down　and　refashion　its　laws　and　traditions！　Has　it　not　turned　all　my　thoughts；　and　feelings；　and　longings；　and　hopes；　and　every　fibre　in　me　into　so　many　sources　of　pain？　Spoiled　my　future；　present；　and　past？　For　me　the　daylight　is　full　of　gloom；　my　thoughts　pierce　me　like　a　sword；　my　child　is　and　is　not。
  〃Oh；　when　Helene　speaks　to　me；　I　wish　that　her　voice　were　different；　when　she　looks　into　my　face　I　wish　that　she　had　other　eyes。　She　constantly　keeps　me　in　mind　of　all　that　should　have　been　and　is　not。　I　cannot　bear　to　have　her　near　me。　I　smile　at　her；　I　try　to　make　up　to　her　for　the　real　affection　of　which　she　is　defrauded。　I　am　wretched；　monsieur；　too　wretched　to　live。　And　I　am　supposed　to　be　a　pattern　wife。　And　I　have　committed　no　sins。　And　I　am　respected！　I　have　fought　down　forbidden　love　which　sprang　up　at　unawares　within　me；　but　if　I　have　kept　the　letter　of　the　law；　have　I　kept　it　in　my　heart？　There　has　never　been　but　one　here；〃　she　said；　laying　her　right　hand　on　her　breast；　〃one　and　no　other；　and　my　child　feels　it。　Certain　looks　and　tones　and　gestures　mould　a　child's　nature；　and　my　poor　little　one　feels　no　thrill　in　the　arm　I　put　about　her；　no　tremor　comes　into　my　voice；　no　softness　into　my　eyes　when　I　speak　to　her　or　take　her　up。　She　looks　at　me；　and　I　cannot　endure　the　reproach　in　her　eyes。　There　are　times　when　I　shudder　to　think　that　some　day　she　may　be　my　judge　and　condemn　her　mother　unheard。　Heaven　grant　that　hate　may　not　grow　up　between　us！　Ah！　God　in　heaven；　rather　let　the　tomb　open　for　me；　rather　let　me　end　my　days　here　at　Saint…Lange！I　want　to　go　back　to　the　world　where　I　shall　find　my　other　soul　and　become　wholly　a　mother。　Ah！　forgive　me；　sir；　I　am　mad。　Those　words　were　choking　me；　now　they　are　spoken。　Ah！　you　are　weeping　too！　You　will　not　despise　me〃
  She　heard　the　child　come　in　from　a　walk。　〃Helene；　my　child；　come　here！〃　she　called。　The　words　sounded　like　a　cry　of　despair。
  The　little　girl　ran　in；　laughing　and　calling　to　her　mother　to　see　a　butterfly　which　she　had　caught；　but　at　the　sight　of　that　mother's　tears　she　grew　quiet　of　a　sudden；　and　went　up　close；　and　received　a　kiss　on　her　forehead。
  〃She　will　be　very　beautiful　some　day；〃　said　the　priest。
  〃She　is　her　father's　child；〃　said　the　Marquise；　kissing　the　little　one　with　eager　warmth；　as　if　she　meant　to　pay　a　debt　of　affection　or　to　extinguish　some　feeling　of　remorse。
  〃How　hot　you　are；　mamma！〃
  〃There；　go　away；　my　angel；〃　said　the　Marquise。
  The　child　went。　She　did　not　seem　at　all　sorry　to　go；　she　did　not　look　back；　glad　perhaps　to　escape　from　a　sad　face；　and　instinctively　comprehending　already　an　antagonism　of　feeling　in　its　expression。　A　mother's　love　finds　language　in　smiles；　they　are　a　part　of　the　divine　right　of　motherhood。　The　Marquise　could　not　smile。　She　flushed　red　as　she　felt　the　cure's　eyes。　She　had　hoped　to　act　a　mother's　part　before　him；　but　neither　she　nor　her　child　could　deceive　him。　And；　indeed；　when　a　woman　loves　sincerely；　in　the　kiss　she　gives　there　is　a　divine　honey；　it　is　as　if　a　soul　were　breathed　forth　in　the　caress；　a　subtle　flame　of　fire　which　brings　warmth　to　the　heart；　the　kiss　that　lacks　this　delicious　unction　is　meagre　and　formal。　The　priest　had　felt　the　difference。　He　could　fathom　the　depths　that　lie　between　the　motherhood　of　the　flesh　and　the　motherhood　of　the　heart。　He　gave　the　Marquise　a　keen；　scrutinizing　glance；　then　he　said：
  〃You　are　right；　madame；　it　would　be　better　for　you　if　you　were　dead〃
  〃Ah！〃　she　cried；　〃then　you　know　all　my　misery；　I　see　you　do　if；　Christian　priest　as　you　are；　you　can　guess　my　determination　to　die　and　sanction　it。　Yes；　I　meant　to　die；　but　I　have　lacked　the　courage。　The　spirit　was　strong；　but　the　flesh　was　weak；　and　when　my　hand　did　not　tremble；　the　spirit　within　me　wavered。
  〃I　do　not　know　the　reason　of　these　inner　struggles；　and　alternations。　I　am　very　pitiably　a　woman　no　doubt；　weak　in　my　will；　strong　only　to　love。　Oh；　I　despise　myself。　At　night；　when　all　my　household　was　asleep；　I　would　go　out　bravely　as　far　as　the　lake；　but　when　I　stood　on　the　brink；　my　cowardice　shrank　from　self…destruction。　To　you　I　will　confess　my　weakness。　When　I　lay　in　my　bed；　again；　shame　would　come　over　me；　and　courage　would　come　back。　Once　I　took　a　dose　of　laudanum；　I　was　ill；　but　I　did　not　die。　I　thought　I　had　emptied　the　phial；　but　I　had　only　taken　half　the　dose。〃
  〃You　are　lost；　madame；〃　the　cure　said　gravely；　with　tears　in　his　voice。　〃You　will　go　back　into　the　world；　and　you　will　deceive　the　world。　You　will　seek　and　find　a　compensation　（as　you　imagine　it　to　be）　for　your　woes；　then　will　come　a　day　of　reckoning　for　your　pleasures〃
  〃Do　you　think；〃　she　cried；　〃that　/I/　shall　bestow　the　last；　the　most　precious　treasures　of　my　heart　upon　the　first　base　impostor　who　can　play　the　comedy　of　passion？　That　I　would　pollute　my　life　for　a　moment　of　doubtful　pleasure？　No；　the　flame　which　shall　consume　my　soul　shall　be　love；　and　nothing　but　love。　All　men；　monsieur；　have　the　senses　of　their　sex；　but　not　all　have　the　man's　soul　which　satisfies　all　the　requirements　of　our　nature；　drawing　out　the　melodious　harmony　which　never　breaks　forth　save　in　response　to　the　pressure　of　feeling。　Such　a　soul　is　not　found　twice　in　our　lifetime。　The　future　that　lies　before　me　is　hideous；　I　know　it。　A　woman　is　nothing　without　love；　beauty　is　nothing　without　pleasure。　And　even　if　happiness　were　offered　to　me　a　second　time；　would　not　the　world　frown　upon　it？　I　owe　my　daughter　an　honored　mother。　Oh！　I　am　condemned　to　live　in　an　iron　circle；　from　which　there　is　but　one　shameful　way　of　escape。　The　round　of　family　duties；　a　thankless　and　irksome　task；　is　in　store　for　me。　I　shall　curse　life；　but　my　child　shall　have　at　least　a　fair　semblance　of　a　mother。　I　will　give　her　treasures　of　virtue　for　the　treasures　of　love　of　which　I　defraud　her。
  〃I　have　not　even　the　mother's　desire　to　live　to　enjoy　her　child's　happiness。　I　have　no　belief　in　happiness。　What　will　Helene's　fate　be？　My　own；　beyond　doubt。　How　can　a　mother　ensure　that　the　man　to　whom　she　gives　her　daughter　will　be　the　husband　of　her　heart？　You　pour　scorn　on　the　miserable　creatures　who　sell　themselves　for　a　few　coins　to　any　passer…by；　though　want　and　hunger　absolve　the　brief　union；　while　another　union；　horrible　for　quite　other　reasons；　is　tolerated；　nay　encouraged；　by　society；　and　a　young　a