The fatigue resulting from the effort exceeding our forces， imposed by the unsatisfactory conditions of our labor， was augmented by the invasion of publicity. The overturn of our voluntary isolation was a cause of real suffering for us and had all the effect of disaster. It was serious trouble brought into the organization of our life， and I have already explained how indispensable was our freedom from external distraction， in order to maintain our family life and our scientific activity. Of course， people who contribute to that kind of trouble generally mean it kindly. It is only that they do not realize the conditions of the problem.
In our second daughter， Eve Denise， came to us. I had， of course， to interrupt my work in the laboratory for a while. In the same year， because of the awarding of the Nobel prize and the general public recognition， a new chair of physics was created in Sorbonne， and my husband was named as its occupant. At the same time I was named chief of work in the laboratory that was to be created for him. But in reality the laboratory was not constructed then， and only a few rooms taken from other uses were available to us.
In just as we were definitely giving up the old shed laboratory where we had been so happy， there came the dreadful catastrophe which took my husband away from me and left me alone to bring up our children and， at the same time， to continue our work of research.
It is impossible for me to express the profoundness and importance of the crisis brought into my life by the loss of the one who had been my closest companion and best friend. Crushed by the blow， I did not feel able to face the future. I could not forget， however， what my husband used sometimes to say， that， even deprived of him， I ought to continue my work.
The death of my husband， coming immediately after the general knowledge of the discoveries with which his name is associated， was felt by the public， and especially by the scientific circles， to be a national misfortune. It was largely under the influence of this emotion that the Faculty of Sciences of Paris decided to offer me the chair， as professor， which my husband had occupied only one year and a half in the Sorbonne. It was an exceptional decision， as up to then no woman had held such a position. The University by doing this offered me a precious mark of esteem and gave me opportunity to pursue the researches which otherwise might have had to be abandoned. I had not expected a gift of this kind； I never had any other ambition than to be able to work freely for science. The honor that now came to me was deeply painful under the cruel circumstances of its coming. Besides I wondered whether I would be able to face such a grave responsibility. After much hesitation， I decided that I ought at least to try to meet the task， and so I began in my teaching in the Sorbonne， as assistant professor， and two years later I was named titular professor.
In my new situation the difficulties of my life were considerably augmented， as I alone had now to carry the burden formerly weighing on my husband and me together. The cares of my young children required close vigilance； in this， my husband's father， who continued to live with us， willingly took his share. He was happy to be occupied with the little girls， whose company was his chief consolation after his son's death. By his effort and mine， the children had a bright home， even if we lived with our inner grief， which they were too young to realize. The strong desire of my father-in-law being to live in the country， we took a house with a garden in Sceaux， a suburb of Paris， from which I could reach the city in half an hour.
This country life had great advantages， not only for my father-in-law， who enjoyed his new surroundings， and especially his garden， but also for my girls， who had the benefit of walks in the open country. But they were more separated from me， and it became necessary to have a governess for them. This position was filled first by one of my cousins， and then by a devoted woman who had already brought up the daughter of one of my sisters. Both of them were Polish， and in this way my daughters learned my native tongue. From time to time， some one of my Polish family came to see me in my grief， and we managed to meet in vacation time， at the seashore in France， and once in the mountains of Poland.
In we suffered the loss of my very dear father-in-law， after a long illness， which brought me many sorrowful days. I used to spend at his bedside as much time as I could， listening to his remembrances of passed years. His death affected deeply my elder daughter， who， at twelve， knew the value of the cheerful hours spent in his company.
There were few resources for the education of my daughters in Sceaux. The youngest one， a small child， needed principally a hygienic life， outdoor walks and quite elementary schooling. She had already shown a vivid intelligence and an unusual disposition for music. Her elder sister resembled her father in the form of her intelligence. She was not quick， but one could already see that she had a gift of reasoning power and that she would like science. She had some training in a private school in Paris， but I had not wanted to keep her in a lycée， as I have always found the class hours in these schools too long for the health of the children.
My view is that in the education of children the requirement of their growth and physical evolution should be respected， and that some time should be left for their artistic culture. In most schools， as they exist to-day， the time spent in various reading and writing exercises is too great， and the study required to be done at home too much. I also find these schools lacking， in general， in practical exercises to accompany the scientific studies.