This time her
defeat was complete; destiny, which she awaited, had turned against her
and thrown her to the ground. A mother the less, perverted by the love
which she had set on her one child, a mother duped, robbed, and maddened,
who had glided into murder amid the dementia born of inconsolable
motherliness! And now she lay there, stretched out, scraggy and withered,
poisoned by the affection which she had been unable to bestow.
Mathieu became anxious, and summoned the old servant, who, after
procuring assistance, carried her mistress to her bed and then undressed
her. Meantime, as Constance gave no sign of life, seized as she was by
one of those fainting fits which often left her quite breathless, Mathieu
himself went for Boutan, and meeting him just as he was returning home
for dinner, was luckily able to bring him back at once.
Boutan, who was now nearly seventy-two, and was quietly spending his last
years in serene cheerfulness, born of his hope in life, had virtually
ceased practising, only attending a very few old patients, his friends.
However, he did not refuse Mathieu's request. When he had examined
Constance he made a gesture of hopelessness, the meaning of which was so
plain that Mathieu, his anxiety increasing, bethought himself of trying
to find Beauchene in order that the latter might, at least, be present if
his wife should die.
Pages:
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714