When the street-door clanged behind him, Balthazar caught his wife
round the waist, and put an end to the uneasiness his feigned reverie
was causing her by whispering in her ear,--
"I knew how to get rid of him."
Madame Claes turned her face to her husband, not ashamed to let him
see the tears of happiness that filled her eyes: then she rested her
forehead against his shoulder and let little Jean slide to the floor.
"Let us go back into the parlor," she said, after a pause.
Balthazar was exuberantly gay throughout the evening. He invented
games for the children, and played with such zest himself that he did
not notice two or three short absences made by his wife. About
half-past nine, when Jean had gone to bed, Marguerite returned to the
parlor after helping her sister Felicie to undress, and found her
mother seated in the deep armchair, and her father holding his wife's
hand as he talked to her. The young girl feared to disturb them, and
was about to retire without speaking, when Madame Claes caught sight
of her, and said:--
"Come in, Marguerite; come here, dear child." She drew her down,
kissed her tenderly on the forehead, and said, "Carry your book into
your own room; but do not sit up too late."
"Good-night, my darling daughter," said Balthazar.
Marguerite kissed her father and mother and went away. Husband and
wife remained alone for some minutes without speaking, watching the
last glimmer of the twilight as it faded from the trees in the garden,
whose outlines were scarcely discernible through the gathering
darkness.
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