"She wished to spare our daughter-in-law too great
a shock; I trust that she herself will not be struck down by it."
_Enceinte_, good heavens! As Constance heard this, it seemed as if a
bludgeon were falling on her to make her defeat complete. And so, even if
she should now let Denis, in his turn, kill himself, another Froment was
coming who would replace him. There was ever another and another of that
race--a swarming of strength, an endless fountain of life, against which
it became impossible to battle. Amid her stupefaction at finding the
breach repaired when scarce opened, Constance realized her powerlessness
and nothingness, childless as she was fated to remain. And she felt
vanquished, overcome with awe, swept away as it were herself; thrust
aside by the victorious flow of everlasting Fruitfulness.
XVIII
FOURTEEN months later there was a festival at Chantebled. Denis, who had
taken Blaise's place at the factory, was married to Marthe Desvignes. And
after all the grievous mourning this was the first smile, the bright warm
sun of springtime, so to say, following severe winter. Mathieu and
Marianne, hitherto grief-stricken and clad in black, displayed a gayety
tinged with soft emotion in presence of the sempiternal renewal of life.
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