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And besides, hard though it was for the mother to bear the dread

of illness, the illnesses themselves, and the grief of seeing

signs of evil propensities in her children-the children

themselves were even now repaying her in small joys for her

sufferings. Those joys were so small that they passed unnoticed,

like gold in sand, and at bad moments she could see nothing but

the pain, nothing but sand; but there were good moments too when

she saw nothing but the joy, nothing but gold.

Now in the solitude of the country, she began to be more and more

frequently aware of those joys. Often, looking at them, she would

make every possible effort to persuade herself that she was

mistaken, that she as a mother was partial to her children. All

the same, she could not help saying to herself that she had

charming children, all six of them in different ways, but a set

of children such as is not often to be met with, and she was

happy in them, and proud of them.

Chapter 8