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〃they dared！ 。 。 。 What an insult！〃
〃What does this bad word mean； mother？〃 asked the child； half
frightened by her anger。 〃Is that what they call poor children who
have no father？〃
His mother folded him in her arms。 〃Oh！〃 she continued； 〃it is an
infamous slander！ These people never saw your father； they have only
been here six years； and this is the eighth since he went away； but
this is abominable！ We were married in that church； we came at once
to live in this house； which was my marriage portion； and my poor
Martin has relations and friends here who will not allow his wife to
be insulted〃
〃Say rather； his widow；〃 interrupted a solemn voice。
〃Ah！ uncle！〃 exclaimed the woman； turning towards an old man who had
just emerged from the house。
〃Yes； Bertrande；〃 continued the new…comer； 〃you must get reconciled
to the idea that my nephew has ceased to exist。 I am sure he was not
such a fool as to have remained all this time without letting us hear
from him。 He was not the fellow to go off at a tangent； on account
of a domestic quarrel which you have never vouchsafed to explain to
me； and to retain his anger during all these eight years！ Where did
he go？ What did he do？ We none of us know； neither you nor I； nor
anybody else。 He is assuredly dead； and lies in some graveyard far
enough from here。 May God have mercy on his soul！〃
Bertrande； weeping； made the sign of the cross； and bowed her head
upon her hands。
〃Good…bye； Sanxi；〃 said the uncle； tapping the child's；' cheek。
Sanxi turned sulkily away。
There was certainly nothing specially attractive about the uncle： he
belonged to a type which children instinctively dislike； false；
crafty； with squinting eyes which continually appeared to contradict
his honeyed tongue。
〃Bertrande；〃 he said； 〃your boy is like his father before him； and
only answers my kindness with rudeness。〃
〃Forgive him；〃 answered the mother； 〃he is very young； and does not
understand the respect due to his father's uncle。 I will teach him
better things； he will soon learn that he ought to be grateful for
the care you have taken of his little property。〃
〃No doubt； no doubt；〃 said the uncle； trying hard to smile。 〃I will
give you a good account of it； for I shall only have to reckon with
you two in future。 Come； my dear； believe me； your husband is really
dead； and you have sorrowed quite enough for a good…for…nothing
fellow。 Think no more of him。〃
So saying； he departed； leaving the poor young woman a prey to the
saddest thoughts。
Bertrande de Rolls； naturally gifted with extreme sensibility； on
which a careful education had imposed due restraint； had barely
completed her twelfth year when she was married to Martin Guerre； a
boy of about the same age； such precocious unions being then not
uncommon； especially in the Southern provinces。 They were generally
settled by considerations of family interest； assisted by the
extremely early development habitual to the climate。 The young
couple lived for a long time as brother and sister； and Bertrande；
thus early familiar with the idea of domestic happiness； bestowed her
whole affection on the youth whom she had been taught to regard as
her life's companion。 He was the Alpha and Omega of her existence；
all her love； all her thoughts； were given to him； and when their
marriage was at length completed； the birth of a son seemed only
another link in the already long existing bond of union。 But； as
many wise men have remarked； a uniform happiness； which only attaches
women more and more； has often upon men a precisely contrary effect；
and so it was with Martin Guerre。 Of a lively and excitable
temperament； he wearied of a yoke which had been imposed so early；
and； anxious to see the world and enjoy some freedom； he one day took
advantage of a domestic difference； in which Bertrande owned herself
to have been wrong； and left his house and family。 He was sought and
awaited in vain。 Bertrande spent the first month in vainly expecting
his return； then she betook herself to prayer； but Heaven appeared
deaf to her supplications； the truant returned not。 She wished to go
in search of him； but the world is wide； and no single trace remained
to guide her。 What torture for a tender heart！ What suffering for a
soul thirsting for love！ What sleepless nights！ What restless
vigils！ Years passed thus； her son was growing up； yet not a word
reached her from the man she loved so much。 She spoke often of him
to the uncomprehending child； she sought to discover his features in
those of her boy； but though she endeavoured to concentrate her whole
affection on her son； she realised that there is suffering which
maternal love cannot console； and tears which it cannot dry。
Consumed by the strength of the sorrow which ever dwelt in her heart；
the poor woman was slowly wasting； worn out by the regrets of the
past； the vain desires of the present； and the dreary prospect of the
future。 And now she had been openly insulted； her feelings as a
mother wounded to the quirk； and her husband's uncle； instead of
defending and consoling her； could give only cold counsel and
unsympathetic words！
Pierre Guerre； indeed； was simply a thorough egotist。 In his youth
he had been charged with usury； no one knew by what means he had
become rich； for the little drapery trade which he called his
profession did not appear to be very profitable。
After his nephew's departure it seemed only natural that he should
pose as the family guardian； and he applied himself to the task of
increasing the little income； but without considering himself bound
to give any account to Bertrande。 So； once persuaded that Martin was
no more； he was apparently not unwilling to prolong a situation so
much to his own advantage。
Night was fast coming on； in the dim twilight distant objects became
confused and indistinct。 It was the end of autumn； that melancholy
season which suggests so many gloomy thoughts and recalls so many
blighted hopes。 The child had gone into the house。 Bertrande； still
sitting at the door； resting her forehead on her hand； thought sadly
of her uncle's words； recalling in imagination the past scenes which
they suggested； the time of their childhood； when； married so young；
they were as yet only playmates； prefacing the graver duties of life
by innocent pleasures； then of the love which grew with their
increasing age； then of how this love became altered； changing on her
side into passion； on his into indifference。 She tried to recollect
him as he had been on the eve of his departure； young and handsome；
carrying his head high； coming home from a fatiguing hunt and sitting
by his son's cradle； and then also she remembered bitterly the
jealous suspicions she had conceived； the anger with which she had
allowed them to escape her； the consequent quarrel； followed by the
disappearance of her offended husband；