Full of courage against the sufferings of the mind, she was helpless against the generous impulses of the heart.

She dared not question Balthazar when she saw him listening to the laughter of little Jean or the chatter of his girls, with the air of a man absorbed in secret thoughts; but she shuddered when she saw him shake off his melancholy and try, with generous intent, to seem cheerful, that he might not distress others.

The little coquetries of the father with his daughters, or his games with little Jean, moistened the eyes of the poor wife, who often left the room to hide the feelings that heroic effort caused her,--a heroism the cost of which is well understood by women, a generosity that well-nigh breaks their heart.

At such times Madame Claes longed to say, "Kill me, and do what you will!" Little by little Balthazar's eyes lost their fire and took the glaucous opaque tint which overspreads the eyes of old men.

His attentions to his wife, his manner of speaking, his whole bearing, grew heavy and inert.
These symptoms became more marked towards the end of April, terrifying Madame Claes, to whom the sight was now intolerable, and who had all along reproached herself a thousand times while she admired the Flemish loyalty which kept her husband faithful to his promise.
At last, one day when Balthazar seemed more depressed than ever, she hesitated no longer; she resolved to sacrifice everything and bring him back to life.
"Dear friend," she said, "I release you from your promise." Balthazar looked at her in amazement.
"You are thinking of your researches, are you not ?" she continued.
He answered by a gesture of startling eagerness.