"A compound of hydrogen and oxygen gives off, according to their relative proportions, under the same conditions and by the same principle, these manifold colors, each of which constitutes a distinct result." His wife heard the words of his proposition, but it was uttered so rapidly that she did not seize its exact meaning; and Balthazar, as if remembering that she had studied his favorite science, made her a mysterious sign, saying,-- "You do not yet understand me, but you will." Then he apparently fell back into the absorbed meditation now habitual to him.
"No, I am sure you do not understand him," said Pierquin, taking his coffee from Marguerite's hand.

"The Ethiopian can't change his skin, nor the leopard his spots," he whispered to Madame Claes.

"Have the goodness to remonstrate with him later; the devil himself couldn't draw him out of his cogitation now; he is in it for to-day, at any rate." So saying, he bade good-bye to Claes, who pretended not to hear him, kissed little Jean in his mother's arms, and retired with a low bow.
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.