'Just once more! Just once more!' cried Pauline again.
She, full of health and cheerfulness, kept sending the little lad to and fro between the two men, from the grandfather, who obstinately lived on in hopeless suffering, to the father, who was already undermined by terror of the hereafter.
'Perhaps his generation will be a less foolish one than this,' she suddenly exclaimed. 'He won't accuse chemistry of spoiling his life; he will believe that it is still possible to live, even with the certainty of having some day to die.'
Lazare smiled in an embarrassed way.
'Bah!' he muttered, 'he will have the gout like my father, and his nerves will be worse strung than mine. Just see how weak he is! It is the law of degeneration.'
'Be quiet!' cried Pauline. 'I will bring him up, and you'll see if I don't make a man of him!'
There was a moment's silence, while she clasped the child to her in a motherly embrace.
'Why don't you get married, as you're so fond of children?' Lazare asked.
She looked at him in amazement.