“Is that Francoise?” he asked.

“Is that my daughter?” I answered that it was. He said: “And is there a child?”

“Yes, Papa.

Your little granddaughter, Genevieve. ” His face puckered and I was frightened. He began to whisper: ” I have seen the signs. The sins of the fathers . Oh my God, the sins of the fathers . ” I felt I had to comfort him. I said: ” Papa, I think I understand. You loved your wife. That was no sin. It is natural to love, natural for men and women to have children. That is the way the world goes on. ” He kept murmuring to himself and I wondered whether to call Maurice.

Occasionally a coherent sentence emerged.

“I knew it. There was the hysteria…. There was the time when we found her playing with fire. There was the time when we found her building a fire in the bedroom, laying the sticks across each other.. We were always finding sticks laid as though for a fire … in cupboards … under beds…. She would run out to gather sticks … Then the doctors came.”

“Papa,” ‘s I said, “do you mean that my mother was mad?” He did not answer, but went on as though I had not spoken: “I could have sent her away. I should have sent her away … ; but I could not do without her… and I still went to her… even though I knew. And in time there was fruit of her madness. That is my sin and there will be vengeance…. I watch for it… wait for it.” I was frightened, I forgot he was a sick man. I knew that what he was telling me was the truth as he saw it. I knew now why my mother had been kept in the room with the barred windows; I knew the reason for our strange household. My mother had been mad. It was for this reason that my father had not wanted me to marry.

“Francoise,” he mumbled.

“Francoise… my daughter.”

“I am here, Papa.”

“I watched over Francoise,” he said.

“She was a good child… quiet, shy, retiring.. not like her mother. Not brazen, bold … in love with the sins of the flesh. No, my daughter has escaped … But it is written ‘unto the third and fourth generation…” She was sought in marriage by the de la Talks . and I gave my consent. That was my sin of pride. I could not say to the Comte when he asked for my daughter for his son:

“Her mother is mad.” So I said my daughter should marry and then I scourged myself for my pride and my lust for I was guilty of two of the deadliest sins. But I did not stop the marriage and so my daughter went to the chateau. ” I tried to soothe him.

“All is well, Papa. There is nothing to fear. The past is done with. All is well now.”

“Unto the third and fourth generation …” he whispered.

“The sins of the fathers … I have seen it in the child. She is wild and she has the look of her grandmother. I know the signs. She will be like her grandmother… unable to resist the pleasures of the flesh and the evil seed will pass on and on through the generations to come.”

“You can’t mean Genevieve … my little girl.” He whispered: “The seed is there in Genevieve… I have seen it. It will grow and grow until it destroys her. I should have warned my daughter. She has escaped but her children will not!” I was frightened. I began to see so much more than I ever had before. I knew now why he had been overcome with horror when I told him I was to have another child. I sat by my bed numb with horror. “

“There is no one I can talk to. When I returned from

Carrefour I went into one of the flower gardens and sat alone for a long time thinking of it. Genevieve! My daughter! Incidents from the past rose in my mind. It was like watching a play in a series of scenes, all significant, leading to a climax. I remembered violent rages; her way of laughing immoderately and I heard her laughter mingling with echoes from the past. My mother. my daughter. They even looked alike . The more I tried to recall my mother’s face the more she looked like Genevi eve. I knew now that I should watch my daughter as my father had watched me. Every little misdemeanour of her childhood which I had once thought of as a prank took on a new significance. The evil seed had passed on through me to the coming generation. My father, who had wanted to be a monk, had been unable to suppress his passion for his wife even though he knew her to be mad, and as a result I had been born and I in my turn had borne a child.

Then the horror of my situation made me tremble with fear for not only was there my poor Genevieve. There was the unborn child. “

“I did not go to Carrefour yesterday. I could not. I made the excuse that my tooth was bad. Nounou fussed over me. She gave me a few drops of her laudanum and that sent me to sleep. I felt refreshed when I awoke but my anxieties were soon nagging at my mind. The child I longed for … what would it be like? What of my poor Genevieve? She came in this morning, as she always does first thing. I heard her with Nounou outside the door. Nounou said:

“Your mother is not well. She has a toothache and wants to rest.”

“But I always go in,” replied my daughter.

“Not today, my dear. Let your Maman rest.” But Genevieve flew into a rage. She stamped her feet and when Nounou tried to hold her off she bit poor Nounou’s hand. I lay there shivering. He is right. These sudden passions are more than childish temper. Nounou can’t control

them . nor can I. I called that she was to come in and she came, her eyes bright with angry tears, her lips sullen. She threw herself at me; she hugged me far too wildly, far too passionately.

“Nounou is trying to keep us apart. I won’t let her. I’ll kill her.” That was how she talked, wildly, extravagantly. She doesn’t mean it, I always said.

It is just her way. Just her way! Honorine’s way. My father had noticed the seed in her. I believed it was there. and I was seized with terror. “

“Papa was asking for me. So I went over to Carrefour.

“He waits for you to come all the time,” they told me.

“He watches the door. He asks for your mother,” they say.

“He thinks you are your mother perhaps.”

So I sat by his bed and he looked at me with those wild glazed eyes and he said my name and sometimes that of my mother. He murmured of sin and vengeance but he wa not as coherent as he had been. I thought he was dying. I could see that he was working himself up to an excitement and I bent over him to hear what he was saying.

“A child?” he said.

“There is going to be a child?” I thought he was thinking of what I had told him until I realized he was farther back in time.

“A child. Honorine is going to have a child. How could this have happened? Oh, but it is God’s vengeance. I knew. and in spite of my knowledge. I went to her and this is the vengeance of the Lord . ‘unto the third and fourth generation . and the seed . the evil seed . will live for ever. “

” Papa, I said, “it is all long ago.

Honorine is dead and I am well. There is nothing wrong with me. ” His wild uncomprehending eyes were on me. He murmured: ” They told me she was with child. I remember the day well.

“You are to be a father,” they said. And they smiled at me. not knowing the horror that was in my heart. It had come. Vengeance had come. My sin would not die with me. It would live to the third and fourth generation. I went to her room that night. I stood over her. She was sleeping. I held the pillow in my hands. I could press it over her face . that would be the end . the end of her and the child.

But she was beautiful. her black hair. the round childishness of her face . and I was a coward, so I fell upon her, embracing her and I knew I could never kill her. “

“You distress yourself, Papa,” I said.

“It is over. Nothing can change what is done. I am here now . and I am well, I assure you.” He was not listening to me and I was thinking of Genevieve and the child who was not yet born. “

“I couldn’t sleep last night. I kept thinking of Papa’s grief. And I could not forget Genevieve. I thought of the wildness in her, which frightened Nounou. I knew why. Nounou had known my mother. Nounou’s fears were a reflection of my father’s. I had seen Nounou watching my daughter. I dozed and suffered a nightmare. There was someone in a room with a barred window. I had to kill her; I stood there with a pillow in my hand. It was my mother … but she had Genevieve’s face and in her arms she carried a child … a child who was not yet born.

I made her lie down and I stood over her with the pillow. I woke up crying: “No! No!” I was shivering. I couldn’t rest after that. I was afraid to sleep for fear of more nightmares so I took some of Nounou’s laudanum and then I fell into a long dreamless sleep. “

‘“When I awoke this morning my mind was very clear. If my child is a boy, I thought, he will carry on the line of the de la Talles. And I thought of that evil seed of madness entering the chateau like a ghost that would haunt it for the centuries to come. I should have brought that to them. Genevieve? She has Nounou to care for her. And Nounou knows. Nounou will watch over her. She will see that she never marries. Perhaps Nounou will persuade her to go into a convent as Papa wanted to persuade me. But the child … if it is a boy … Papa lacked the courage. It needs courage. Had Papa killed my mother I should never have been born. I should have known no pain … nothing. And that is how it would be with the child.”

“Last night a strange thing happened. I awoke from a nightmare and I remembered the peaceful sleep which comes from the little green bottle with the crinkly sides. Crinkly, Nounou told me, because if you should pick it up in the dark you would know it for a poison bottle. Poison!

But it gives such sweet sleep, such relief! I thought how easy it would be to take twice . three times . the dose Nounou gave me for my toothache . and then no more fears . no more worries. The child would know nothing. The child would be saved from coming into the world, to be continually watched for the first sign of the evil seed. I reached for the bottle and I thought: “I will not be a coward as Papa was.” I thought of myself old as he is now. lying on my death-bed, reproaching myself for all the unhappiness I had brought to my children. I looked at the bottle and I was afraid. I took a few drops and slept and in the morning I told myself, “That is not the way.” ‘ “It is night and the fears are with me again. I can’t sleep. I keep thinking of Papa and my mother in the room with the bars, and I am very conscious of the child I am carrying. Nounou, please take care of Genevieve. I leave her to your care. I am wondering now whether I have the courage which Papa lacked. I believe that had he succeeded it would have been better for so many of us. My little Genevieve would never have been born … Nounou would have been saved her fears … I should never have been born. I believe my father was right. I can see the bottle. Green with the crinkly sides. I will put my notebook with the others in the cupboard and Nounou will find them. She loves reading about the days when I was little and says my books bring them back. She will explain to them why … I wonder if I ‘can. I wonder if it is right… Now I shall try to sleep … but if I can’t… In the morning I shall write that this is how one feels at night. By daylight it seems different.