When de Solis or Pierquin asked for news of her he seemed annoyed.

Did he suspect that Marguerite was working against him?
Was he humiliated at having resigned the majestic rights of paternity to his own child?
Had he come to love her less because she was now the father, he the child?
Perhaps there were many of these reasons, many of these inexpressible feelings which float like vapors through the soul, in the mute disgrace which he laid upon Marguerite.

However great may be the great men of earth, be they known or unknown, fortunate or unfortunate in their endeavors, all have likenesses which belong to human nature.
By a double misfortune they suffer through their greatness not less than through their defects; and perhaps Balthazar needed to grow accustomed to the pangs of wounded vanity.

The life he was leading, the evenings when these four persons met together in Marguerite's absence, were full of sadness and vague, uneasy apprehensions.

The days were barren like a parched-up soil; where, nevertheless, a few flowers grew, a few rare consolations, though without Marguerite, the soul, the hope, the strength of the family, the atmosphere seemed misty.
Two months went by in this way, during which Balthazar awaited the return of his daughter.