The wife had fortunately secured a post as one of
the delegates of the Poor Relief Board, an inspectorship with various
duties, such as watching over the mothers and children assisted by the
board, and reporting thereon. And she was wont to say, with a sad smile,
that this work of looking after the little ones was something of a
consolation for her, since it was now certain that she would never have a
child of her own. As for her husband, whose eyesight was failing more and
more, he had been obliged to relinquish painting altogether, and he
dragged out his days in morose desolation, his life wrecked, annihilated.
With short steps, as if she were leading a child, Madame Angelin brought
him to an armchair near Marianne and seated him in it. He had retained
the lofty mien of a musketeer, but his features had been ravaged by
anxiety, and his hair was white, though he was only forty-four years of
age. And what memories arose at the sight of that sorrowful lady leading
that infirm, aged man, for those who had known the young couple, all
tenderness and good looks, rambling along the secluded paths of Janville,
amid the careless delights of their love.
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