There's monsieur on the high-road to hell.

Pray God he mayn't kill you as he killed my poor mistress." "It is not possible!" exclaimed Marguerite.
"Come and see the signs of their traffic." Mademoiselle Claes ran to the window and saw the light smoke rising from the flue of the laboratory.
"I shall be twenty-one in a few months," she thought, "and I shall know how to oppose the destruction of our property." In giving way to his passion Balthazar necessarily felt less respect for the interests of his children than he formerly had felt for the happiness of his wife.

The barriers were less high, his conscience was more elastic, his passion had increased in strength.

He now set forth in his career of glory, toil, hope, and poverty, with the fervor of a man profoundly trustful of his convictions.

Certain of the result, he worked night and day with a fury that alarmed his daughters, who did not know how little a man is injured by work that gives him pleasure.
Her father had no sooner recommenced his experiments than Marguerite retrenched the superfluities of the table, showing a parsimony worthy of a miser, in which Josette and Martha admirably seconded her.