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diff --git a/10330-h/10330-h.htm b/10330-h/10330-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..68c1243 --- /dev/null +++ b/10330-h/10330-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,19097 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Fruitfulnees (Fécondité) + by Émile Zola. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; + text-indent:4%; +} + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} +.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} + +.nind {text-indent:0%;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +.tb { + text-align: center; + padding-top: .76em; + padding-bottom: .24em; + letter-spacing: 1.5em; + margin-right: -1.5em; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + + +/* Notes */ +.footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + +.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + +.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: + none; +} + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10330 ***</div> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> +<img src="images/fruitfulness_frontispiece.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> +</div> + + +<h1>FRUITFULNESS</h1> +<h3>(FÉCONDITÉ)</h3> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h2>BY +<br /> +ÉMILE ZOLA</h2> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h3><i>Translated and edited by</i> +<br /> +Ernest Alfred Vizetelly</h3> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h4>NEW YORK</h4> + +<h4>DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & CO.</h4> + +<h5>1900</h5> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4>CONTENTS</h4> +<p class="nind"><a href="#PREFACE">TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE</a><br /> +<a href="#FRUITFULNESS">FRUITFULNESS</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#I">I</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#II">II</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#III">III</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#IV">IV</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#V">V</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#VI">VI</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#VII">VII</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#VIII">VIII</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#IX">IX</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#X">X</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#XI">XI</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#XII">XII</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#XIII">XIII</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#XIV">XIV</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#XV">XV</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#XVI">XVI</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#XVII">XVII</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#XVIII">XVIII</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#XIX">XIX</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#XX">XX</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#XXI">XXI</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#XXII">XXII</a><br /> +CHAPTER <a href="#XXIII">XXIII</a></p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="PREFACE">TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE</a></h4> + +<p> +"FRUITFULNESS" is the first of a series of four works in which M. Zola +proposes to embody what he considers to be the four cardinal principles +of human life. These works spring from the previous series of The Three +Cities: "Lourdes," "Rome," and "Paris," which dealt with the principles +of Faith, Hope, and Charity. The last scene in "Paris," when Marie, +Pierre Froment's wife, takes her boy in her arms and consecrates him, so +to say, to the city of labor and thought, furnishes the necessary +transition from one series to the other. "Fruitfulness," says M. Zola, +"creates the home. Thence springs the city. From the idea of citizenship +comes that of the fatherland; and love of country, in minds fed by +science, leads to the conception of a wider and vaster fatherland, +comprising all the peoples of the earth. Of these three stages in the +progress of mankind, the fourth still remains to be attained. I have +thought then of writing, as it were, a poem in four volumes, in four +chants, in which I shall endeavor to sum up the philosophy of all my +work. The first of these volumes is 'Fruitfulness'; the second will be +called 'Work'; the third, 'Truth'; the last, 'Justice.' In 'Fruitfulness' +the hero's name is Matthew. In the next work it will be Luke; in 'Truth,' +Mark; and in 'justice,' John. The children of my brain will, like the +four Evangelists preaching the gospel, diffuse the religion of future +society, which will be founded on Fruitfulness, Work, Truth, and +Justice." +</p> +<p> +This, then, is M. Zola's reply to the cry repeatedly raised by his hero, +Abbé Pierre Froment, in the pages of "Lourdes," "Paris," and "Rome": "A +new religion, a new religion!" Critics of those works were careful to +point out that no real answer was ever returned to the Abbé's despairing +call; and it must be confessed that one must yet wait for the greater +part of that answer, since "Fruitfulness," though complete as a +narrative, forms but a portion of the whole. It is only after the +publication of the succeeding volumes that one will be able to judge how +far M. Zola's doctrines and theories in their <i>ensemble</i> may appeal to +the requirements of the world. +</p> +<p> +While "Fruitfulness," as I have said, constitutes a first instalment of +M. Zola's conception of a social religion, it embodies a good deal else. +The idea of writing some such work first occurred to him many years ago. +In 1896 he contributed an article to the Paris <i>Figaro</i>, in which he +said: "For some ten years now I have been haunted by the idea of a novel, +of which I shall, doubtless, never write the first page.... That novel +would have been called 'Wastage'... and I should have pleaded in it in +favor of all the rights of life, with all the passion which I may have in +my heart."<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> M. Zola's article then proceeds to discuss the various social +problems, theories, and speculations which are set forth here and there +in the present work. Briefly, the genesis of "Fruitfulness" lies in the +article I have quoted. +</p> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="nind"><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a>See <i>Nouvelle Campagne</i> (1896), par Émile Zola. +Paris, 1897, pp. 217-228.</p></div> + +<p> +"Fruitfulness" is a book to be judged from several standpoints. It would +be unjust and absurd to judge it from one alone, such, for instance, as +that of the new social religion to which I have referred. It must be +looked at notably as a tract for the times in relation to certain +grievous evils from which France and other countries—though more +particularly France—are undoubtedly suffering. And it may be said +that some such denunciation of those evils was undoubtedly necessary, and +that nobody was better placed to pen that denunciation than M. Zola, who, +alone of all French writers nowadays, commands universal attention. +Whatever opinion may be held of his writings, they have to be reckoned +with. Thus, in preparing "Fruitfulness," he was before all else +discharging a patriotic duty, and that duty he took in hand in an hour of +cruel adversity, when to assist a great cause he withdrew from France and +sought for a time a residence in England, where for eleven months I was +privileged to help him in maintaining his incognito. "Fruitfulness" was +entirely written in England, begun in a Surrey country house, and +finished at the Queen's Hotel, Norwood. +</p> +<p> +It would be superfluous for me to enter here into all the questions +which M. Zola raises in his pages. The evils from which France suffers +in relation to the stagnancy of its population, are well known, and that +their continuance—if continuance there be—will mean the +downfall of the country from its position as one of the world's great +powers before the close of the twentieth century, is a mathematical +certainty. That M. Zola, in order to combat those evils, and to do his +duty as a good citizen anxious to prevent the decline of his country, +should have dealt with his subject with the greatest frankness and +outspokenness, was only natural. Moreover, absolute freedom of speech +exists in France, which is not the case elsewhere. Thus, when I first +perused the original proofs of M. Zola's work, I came to the conclusion +that any version of it in the English language would be well-nigh +impossible. For some time I remained of that opinion, and I made a +statement to that effect in a leading literary journal. Subsequently, +however, my views became modified. "The man who is ridiculous," wrote a +French poet, Barthélemy, "is he whose opinions never change," and thus +I at last reverted to a task from which I had turned aside almost in +despair. +</p> +<p> +Various considerations influenced me, and among them was the thought that +if "Fruitfulness" were not presented to the public in an English dress, +M. Zola's new series would remain incomplete, decapitated so far as +British and American readers were concerned. After all, the criticisms +dealing with the French original were solely directed against matters of +form, the mould in which some part of the work was cast. Its high moral +purpose was distinctly recognized by several even of its most bitter +detractors. For me the problem was how to retain the whole <i>ensemble</i> +of the narrative and the essence of the lessons which the work inculcates, +while recasting some portion of it and sacrificing those matters of form +to which exception was taken. It is not for me to say whether I have +succeeded in the task; but I think that nothing in any degree offensive +to delicate susceptibilities will be found in this present version of M. +Zola's book. +</p> +<p> +The English reviews of the French original showed that if certain +portions of it were deemed indiscreet, it none the less teemed with +admirable and even delightful pages. Among the English reviewers were two +well-known lady writers, Madame Darmesteter (formerly Miss Mary Robinson), +and Miss Hannah Lynch. And the former remarked in one part of her +<i>critique</i>: "Even this short review reveals how honest, how moral, how +human and comely is the fable of <i>Fécondité</i>,"<a name="FNanchor_2_1" id="FNanchor_2_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_1" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> while the latter +expressed the view that the work was "eminently, pugnaciously virtuous in +M. Zola's strictly material conception of virtue." And again: "The pages +that tell the story of Mathieu and Marianne, it must be admitted, are as +charming as possible. They have a bloom, a beauty, a fragrance we never +expected to find in M. Zola's work. The tale is a simple one: the +cheerful conquest of fortune and the continual birth of offspring."<a name="FNanchor_3_1" id="FNanchor_3_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_1" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> +</p> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="nind"><a name="Footnote_2_1" id="Footnote_2_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_1"><span class="label">[2]</span></a><i>Manchester Guardian</i>, October 27, 1899.</p></div> +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="nind"><a name="Footnote_3_1" id="Footnote_3_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_1"><span class="label">[3]</span></a><i>Fortnightly Review</i>, January 1900.</p></div> + +<p> +Of course, these lady critics did not favor certain features of the +original, and one of them, indeed, referred to the evil denounced by M. +Zola as a mere evil of the hour, whereas it has been growing and +spreading for half a century, gradually sapping all the vitality of +France. But beside that evil, beside the downfall of the families it +attacks, M. Zola portrays the triumph of rectitude, the triumph which +follows faith in the powers of life, and observance of the law of +universal labor. "Fruitfulness" contains charming pictures of homely +married life, delightful glimpses of childhood and youth: the first +smile, the first step, the first word, followed by the playfulness and +the flirtations of boyhood, and the happiness which waits on the +espousals of those who truly love. And the punishment of the guilty is +awful, and the triumph of the righteous is the greatest that can be +conceived. All those features have been retained, so far as my abilities +have allowed, in the present version, which will at the same time, I +think, give the reader unacquainted with the French language a general +idea of M. Zola's views on one of the great questions of the age, as well +as all the essential portions of a strongly conceived narrative. +</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 60%;">E. A. V.</p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5%;">MERTON, SURREY, ENGLAND: <i>April</i>, 1900.</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<hr /> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="FRUITFULNESS">FRUITFULNESS</a></h4> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="I">I</a></h4> + +<p> +THAT morning, in the little pavilion of Chantebled, on the verge of the +woods, where they had now been installed for nearly a month, Mathieu was +making all haste in order that he might catch the seven-o'clock train +which every day conveyed him from Janville to Paris. It was already +half-past six, and there were fully two thousand paces from the pavilion +to Janville. Afterwards came a railway journey of three-quarters of an +hour, and another journey of at least equal duration through Paris, from +the Northern Railway terminus to the Boulevard de Grenelle. He seldom +reached his office at the factory before half-past eight o'clock. +</p> +<p> +He had just kissed the children. Fortunately they were asleep; otherwise +they would have linked their arms about his neck, laughed and kissed him, +being ever unwilling to let him go. And as he hastily returned to the +principal bedroom, he found his wife, Marianne, in bed there, but awake +and sitting up. She had risen a moment before in order to pull back a +curtain, and all the glow of that radiant May morning swept in, throwing +a flood of gay sunshine over the fresh and healthy beauty of her +four-and-twenty years. He, who was three years the elder, positively +adored her. +</p> +<p> +"You know, my darling," said he, "I must make haste, for I fear I may +miss the train—and so manage as well as you can. You still have +thirty sous left, haven't you?" +</p> +<p> +She began to laugh, looking charming with her bare arms and her +loose-flowing dark hair. The ever-recurring pecuniary worries of the +household left her brave and joyous. Yet she had been married at +seventeen, her husband at twenty, and they already had to provide for +four children. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! we shall be all right," said she. "It's the end of the month to-day, +and you'll receive your money to-night. I'll settle our little debts at +Janville to-morrow. There are only the Lepailleurs, who worry me with +their bill for milk and eggs, for they always look as if they fancied one +meant to rob them. But with thirty sous, my dear! why, we shall have +quite a high time of it!" +</p> +<p> +She was still laughing as she held out her firm white arms for the +customary morning good-by. +</p> +<p> +"Run off, since you are in a hurry. I will go to meet you at the little +bridge to-night." +</p> +<p> +"No, no, I insist on your going to bed! You know very well that even if +I catch the quarter-to-eleven-o'clock train, I cannot reach Janville +before half-past eleven. Ah! what a day I have before me! I had to +promise the Moranges that I would take <i>déjeuner</i> with them; and +this evening Beauchêne is entertaining a customer—a business +dinner, which I'm obliged to attend. So go to bed, and have a good sleep +while you are waiting for me." +</p> +<p> +She gently nodded, but would give no positive promise. "Don't forget to +call on the landlord," she added, "to tell him that the rain comes into +the children's bedroom. It's not right that we should be soaked here as +if we were on the high-way, even if those millionaires, the Séguins du +Hordel, do let us have this place for merely six hundred francs a year." +</p> +<p> +"Ah, yes! I should have forgotten that. I will call on them, I promise +you." +</p> +<p> +Then Mathieu took her in his arms, and there was no ending to their +leave-taking. He still lingered. She had begun to laugh again, while +giving him many a kiss in return for his own. There was all the love of +bounding health between them, the joy that springs from the most perfect +union, as when man and wife are but one both in flesh and in soul. +</p> +<p> +"Run off, run off, darling! Remember to tell Constance that, before she +goes into the country, she ought to run down here some Sunday with +Maurice." +</p> +<p> +"Yes, yes, I will tell her—till to-night, darling." +</p> +<p> +But he came back once more, caught her in a tight embrace, and pressed to +her lips a long, loving kiss, which she returned with her whole heart. +And then he hurried away. +</p> +<p> +He usually took an omnibus on his arrival at the Northern Railway +terminus. But on the days when only thirty sous remained at home he +bravely went through Paris on foot. It was, too, a very fine walk by way +of the Rue la Fayette, the Opera-house, the Boulevards, the Rue Royale, +and then, after the Place de la Concorde, the Cours la Reine, the Alma +bridge, and the Quai d'Orsay. +</p> +<p> +Beauchêne's works were at the very end of the Quai d'Orsay, between the +Rue de la Fédération and the Boulevard de Grenelle. There was hereabouts +a large square plot, at one end of which, facing the quay, stood a +handsome private house of brickwork with white stone dressings, that had +been erected by Léon Beauchêne, father of Alexandre, the present master +of the works. From the balconies one could perceive the houses which were +perched aloft in the midst of greenery on the height of Passy, beyond the +Seine; whilst on the right arose the campanile of the Trocadero palace. +On one side, skirting the Rue de la Fédération, one could still see a +garden and a little house, which had been the modest dwelling of Léon +Beauchêne in the heroic days of desperate toil when he had laid the +foundations of his fortune. Then the factory buildings and sheds, quite a +mass of grayish structures, overtopped by two huge chimneys, occupied +both the back part of the ground and that which fringed the Boulevard de +Grenelle, the latter being shut off by long windowless walls. This +important and well-known establishment manufactured chiefly agricultural +appliances, from the most powerful machines to those ingenious and +delicate implements on which particular care must be bestowed if +perfection is to be attained. In addition to the hundreds of men who +worked there daily, there were some fifty women, burnishers and +polishers. +</p> +<p> +The entry to the workshops and offices was in the Rue de la Fédération, +through a large carriage way, whence one perceived the far-spreading +yard, with its paving stones invariably black and often streaked by +rivulets of steaming water. Dense smoke arose from the high chimneys, +strident jets of steam emerged from the roof, whilst a low rumbling and a +shaking of the ground betokened the activity within, the ceaseless bustle +of labor. +</p> +<p> +It was thirty-five minutes past eight by the big clock of the central +building when Mathieu crossed the yard towards the office which he +occupied as chief designer. For eight years he had been employed at the +works where, after a brilliant and special course of study, he had made +his beginning as assistant draughtsman when but nineteen years old, +receiving at that time a salary of one hundred francs a month. His +father, Pierre Froment,<a name="FNanchor_4_1" id="FNanchor_4_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_1" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> had four sons by Marie his wife—Jean the +eldest, then Mathieu, Marc, and Luc—and while leaving them free to +choose a particular career he had striven to give each of them some +manual calling. Léon Beauchêne, the founder of the works, had been dead a +year, and his son Alexandre had succeeded him and married Constance +Meunier, daughter of a very wealthy wall-paper manufacturer of the +Marais, at the time when Mathieu entered the establishment, the master of +which was scarcely five years older than himself. It was there that +Mathieu had become acquainted with a poor cousin of Alexandre's, +Marianne, then sixteen years old, whom he had married during the +following year. +</p> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="nind"><a name="Footnote_4_1" id="Footnote_4_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_1"><span class="label">[4]</span></a>Of <i>Lourdes</i>, <i>Rome</i>, and <i>Paris</i>.</p></div> + +<p> +Marianne, when only twelve, had become dependent upon her uncle, Léon +Beauchêne. After all sorts of mishaps a brother of the latter, one Félix +Beauchêne, a man of adventurous mind but a blunderhead, had gone to +Algeria with his wife and daughter, there to woo fortune afresh; and the +farm he had established was indeed prospering when, during a sudden +revival of Arab brigandage, both he and his wife were murdered and their +home was destroyed. Thus the only place of refuge for the little girl, +who had escaped miraculously, was the home of her uncle, who showed her +great kindness during the two years of life that remained to him. With +her, however, were Alexandre, whose companionship was rather dull, and +his younger sister, Séraphine, a big, vicious, and flighty girl of +eighteen, who, as it happened, soon left the house amid a frightful +scandal—an elopement with a certain Baron Lowicz, a genuine baron, +but a swindler and forger, to whom it became necessary to marry her. She +then received a dowry of 300,000 francs. Alexandre, after his father's +death, made a money match with Constance, who brought him half a million +francs, and Marianne then found herself still more a stranger, still +more isolated beside her new cousin, a thin, dry, authoritative woman, +who ruled the home with absolute sway. Mathieu was there, however, and a +few months sufficed: fine, powerful, and healthy love sprang up between +the young people; there was no lightning flash such as throws the +passion-swayed into each other's arms, but esteem, tenderness, faith, +and that mutual conviction of happiness in reciprocal bestowal which +tends to indissoluble marriage. And they were delighted at marrying +penniless, at bringing one another but their full hearts forever and +forever. The only change in Mathieu's circumstances was an increase of +salary to two hundred francs a month. True, his new cousin by marriage +just vaguely hinted at a possible partnership, but that would not be +till some very much later date. +</p> +<p> +As it happened Mathieu Froment gradually became indispensable at the +works. The young master, Alexandre Beauchêne, passed through an anxious +crisis. The dowry which his father had been forced to draw from his +coffers in order to get Séraphine married, and other large expenses +which had been occasioned by the girl's rebellious and perverse conduct, +had left but little working capital in the business. Then, too, on the +morrow of Léon Beauchêne's death it was found that, with the +carelessness often evinced in such matters, he had neglected to leave a +will; so that Séraphine eagerly opposed her brother's interests, +demanding her personal share of the inheritance, and even suggesting the +sale of the works. The property had narrowly escaped being cut up, +annihilated. And Alexandre Beauchêne still shivered with terror and +anger at the recollection of that time, amidst all his delight at having +at last rid himself of his sister by paying her in money the liberally +estimated value of her share. It was in order to fill up the void thus +created in his finances that he had espoused the half-million +represented by Constance—an ugly creature, as he himself bitterly +acknowledged, coarse male as he was. Truth to tell, she was so thin, so +scraggy, that before consenting to make her his wife he had often called +her "that bag of bones." But, on the other hand, thanks to his marriage +with her, all his losses were made good in five or six years' time; the +business of the works even doubled, and great prosperity set in. And +Mathieu, having become a most active and necessary coadjutor, ended by +taking the post of chief designer, at a salary of four thousand two +hundred francs per annum. +</p> +<p> +Morange, the chief accountant, whose office was near Mathieu's, thrust +his head through the doorway as soon as he heard the young man installing +himself at his drawing-table. "I say, my dear Froment," he exclaimed, +"don't forget that you are to take <i>déjeuner</i> with us." +</p> +<p> +"Yes, yes, my good Morange, it's understood. I will look in for you at +twelve o'clock." +</p> +<p> +Then Mathieu very carefully scrutinized a wash drawing of a very simple +but powerful steam thresher, an invention of his own, on which he had +been working for some time past, and which a big landowner of Beauce, M. +Firon-Badinier, was to examine during the afternoon. +</p> +<p> +The door of the master's private room was suddenly thrown wide open and +Beauchêne appeared—tall, with a ruddy face, a narrow brow, and big +brown, protruding eyes. He had a rather large nose, thick lips, and a +full black beard, on which he bestowed great care, as he likewise did on +his hair, which was carefully combed over his head in order to conceal +the serious baldness that was already coming upon him, although he was +scarcely two-and-thirty. Frock-coated the first thing in the morning, he +was already smoking a big cigar; and his loud voice, his peals of gayety, +his bustling ways, all betokened an egotist and good liver still in his +prime, a man for whom money—capital increased and increased by the +labor of others—was the one only sovereign power. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! ah! it's ready, is it not?" said he; "Monsieur Firon-Badinier has +again written me that he will be here at three o'clock. And you know that +I'm going to take you to the restaurant with him this evening; for one +can never induce those fellows to give orders unless one plies them with +good wine. It annoys Constance to have it done here; and, besides, I +prefer to entertain those people in town. You warned Marianne, eh?" +</p> +<p> +"Certainly. She knows that I shall return by the +quarter-to-eleven-o'clock train." +</p> +<p> +Beauchêne had sunk upon a chair: "Ah! my dear fellow, I'm worn out," he +continued; "I dined in town last night; I got to bed only at one o'clock. +And there was a terrible lot of work waiting for me this morning. One +positively needs to be made of iron." +</p> +<p> +Until a short time before he had shown himself a prodigious worker, +endowed with really marvellous energy and strength. Moreover, he had +given proof of unfailing business instinct with regard to many profitable +undertakings. Invariably the first to appear at the works, he looked +after everything, foresaw everything, filling the place with his bustling +zeal, and doubling his output year by year. Recently, however, fatigue +had been gaining ground on him. He had always sought plenty of amusement, +even amid the hard-working life he led. But nowadays certain "sprees," as +he called them, left him fairly exhausted. +</p> +<p> +He gazed at Mathieu: "You seem fit enough, you do!" he said. "How is it +that you manage never to look tired?" +</p> +<p> +As a matter of fact, the young man who stood there erect before his +drawing-table seemed possessed of the sturdy health of a young oak tree. +Tall and slender, he had the broad, lofty, tower-like brow of the +Froments. He wore his thick hair cut quite short, and his beard, which +curled slightly, in a point. But the chief expression of his face rested +in his eyes, which were at once deep and bright, keen and thoughtful, and +almost invariably illumined by a smile. They showed him to be at once a +man of thought and of action, very simple, very gay, and of a kindly +disposition. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! I," he answered with a laugh, "I behave reasonably." +</p> +<p> +But Beauchêne protested: "No, you don't! The man who already has four +children when he is only twenty-seven can't claim to be reasonable. And +twins too—your Blaise and your Denis to begin with! And then your boy +Ambroise and your little girl Rose. Without counting the other little +girl that you lost at her birth. Including her, you would now have had +five youngsters, you wretched fellow! No, no, I'm the one who behaves +reasonably—I, who have but one child, and, like a prudent, sensible +man, desire no others!" +</p> +<p> +He often made such jesting remarks as these, through which filtered his +genuine indignation; for he deemed the young couple to be over-careless +of their interests, and declared that the prolificness of his cousin +Marianne was quite scandalous. +</p> +<p> +Accustomed as Mathieu was to these attacks, which left him perfectly +serene, he went on laughing, without even giving a reply, when a workman +abruptly entered the room—one who was currently called "old +Moineaud," though he was scarcely three-and-forty years of age. Short +and thick-set, he had a bullet head, a bull's neck, and face and hands +scarred and dented by more than a quarter of a century of toil. By +calling he was a fitter, and he had come to submit a difficulty which +had just arisen in the piecing together of a reaping machine. But, his +employer, who was still angrily thinking of over-numerous families, did +not give him time to explain his purpose. +</p> +<p> +"And you, old Moineaud, how many children have you?" he inquired. +</p> +<p> +"Seven, Monsieur Beauchêne," the workman replied, somewhat taken aback. +"I've lost three." +</p> +<p> +"So, including them, you would now have ten? Well, that's a nice state of +things! How can you do otherwise than starve?" +</p> +<p> +Moineaud began to laugh like the gay thriftless Paris workman that he +was. The little ones? Well, they grew up without his even noticing it, +and, indeed, he was really fond of them, so long as they remained at +home. And, besides, they worked as they grew older, and brought a little +money in. However, he preferred to answer his employer with a jest which +set them all laughing. +</p> +<p> +After he had explained the difficulty with the reaper, the others +followed him to examine the work for themselves. They were already +turning into a passage, when Beauchêne, seeing the door of the women's +workshop open, determined to pass that way, so that he might give his +customary look around. It was a long, spacious place, where the +polishers, in smocks of black serge, sat in double rows polishing and +grinding their pieces at little work-boards. Nearly all of them were +young, a few were pretty, but most had low and common faces. An animal +odor and a stench of rancid oil pervaded the place. +</p> +<p> +The regulations required perfect silence there during work. Yet all the +girls were gossiping. As soon, however, as the master's approach was +signalled the chatter abruptly ceased. There was but one girl who, having +her head turned, and thus seeing nothing of Beauchêne, went on furiously +abusing a companion, with whom she had previously started a dispute. She +and the other were sisters, and, as it happened, daughters of old +Moineaud. Euphrasie, the younger one, she who was shouting, was a skinny +creature of seventeen, light-haired, with a long, lean, pointed face, +uncomely and malignant; whereas the elder, Norine, barely nineteen, was a +pretty girl, a blonde like her sister, but having a milky skin, and +withal plump and sturdy, showing real shoulders, arms, and hips, and one +of those bright sunshiny faces, with wild hair and black eyes, all the +freshness of the Parisian hussy, aglow with the fleeting charm of youth. +</p> +<p> +Norine was ever quarrelling with Euphrasie, and was pleased to have her +caught in a misdeed; so she allowed her to rattle on. And it thereupon +became necessary for Beauchêne to intervene. He habitually evinced great +severity in the women's workshop, for he had hitherto held the view that +an employer who jested with his workgirls was a lost man. Thus, in spite +of the low character of which he was said to give proof in his walks +abroad, there had as yet never been the faintest suggestion of scandal in +connection with him and the women in his employ. +</p> +<p> +"Well, now, Mademoiselle Euphrasie!" he exclaimed; "do you intend to be +quiet? This is quite improper. You are fined twenty sous, and if I hear +you again you will be locked out for a week." +</p> +<p> +The girl had turned round in consternation. Then, stifling her rage, she +cast a terrible glance at her sister, thinking that she might at least +have warned her. But the other, with the discreet air of a pretty wench +conscious of her attractiveness, continued smiling, looking her employer +full in the face, as if certain that she had nothing to fear from him. +Their eyes met, and for a couple of seconds their glances mingled. Then +he, with flushed cheeks and an angry air, resumed, addressing one and +all: "As soon as the superintendent turns her back you chatter away like +so many magpies. Just be careful, or you will have to deal with me!" +</p> +<p> +Moineaud, the father, had witnessed the scene unmoved, as if the two +girls—she whom the master had scolded, and she who slyly gazed at +him—were not his own daughters. And now the round was resumed and the +three men quitted the women's workshop amidst profound silence, which +only the whir of the little grinders disturbed. +</p> +<p> +When the fitting difficulty had been overcome downstairs and Moineaud had +received his orders, Beauchêne returned to his residence accompanied by +Mathieu, who wished to convey Marianne's invitation to Constance. A +gallery connected the black factory buildings with the luxurious private +house on the quay. And they found Constance in a little drawing-room hung +with yellow satin, a room to which she was very partial. She was seated +near a sofa, on which lay little Maurice, her fondly prized and only +child, who had just completed his seventh year. +</p> +<p> +"Is he ill?" inquired Mathieu. +</p> +<p> +The child seemed sturdily built, and he greatly resembled his father, +though he had a more massive jaw. But he was pale and there was a faint +ring round his heavy eyelids. His mother, that "bag of bones," a little +dark woman, yellow and withered at six-and-twenty, looked at him with an +expression of egotistical pride. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, no! he's never ill," she answered. "Only he has been complaining of +his legs. And so I made him lie down, and I wrote last night to ask Dr. +Boutan to call this morning." +</p> +<p> +"Pooh!" exclaimed Beauchêne with a hearty laugh, "women are all the same! +A child who is as strong as a Turk! I should just like anybody to tell me +that he isn't strong." +</p> +<p> +Precisely at that moment in walked Dr. Boutan, a short, stout man of +forty, with very keen eyes set in a clean-shaven, heavy, but extremely +good-natured face. He at once examined the child, felt and sounded him; +then with his kindly yet serious air he said: "No, no, there's nothing. +It is the mere effect of growth. The lad has become rather pale through +spending the winter in Paris, but a few months in the open air, in the +country, will set him right again." +</p> +<p> +"I told you so!" cried Beauchêne. +</p> +<p> +Constance had kept her son's little hand in her own. He had again +stretched himself out and closed his eyes in a weary way, whilst she, in +her happiness, continued smiling. Whenever she chose she could appear +quite pleasant-looking, however unprepossessing might be her features. +The doctor had seated himself, for he was fond of lingering and chatting +in the houses of friends. A general practitioner, and one who more +particularly tended the ailments of women and children, he was naturally +a confessor, knew all sorts of secrets, and was quite at home in family +circles. It was he who had attended Constance at the birth of that +much-spoiled only son, and Marianne at the advent of the four children +she already had. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu had remained standing, awaiting an opportunity to deliver his +invitation. "Well," said he, "if you are soon leaving for the country, +you must come one Sunday to Janville. My wife would be so delighted to +see you there, to show you our encampment." +</p> +<p> +Then he jested respecting the bareness of the lonely pavilion which they +occupied, recounting that as yet they possessed only a dozen plates and +five egg-cups. But Beauchêne knew the pavilion, for he went shooting in +the neighborhood every winter, having a share in the tenancy of some +extensive woods, the shooting-rights over which had been parcelled out by +the owner. +</p> +<p> +"Séguin," said he, "is a friend of mine. I have lunched at your pavilion. +It's a perfect hovel!" +</p> +<p> +Then Constance, contemptuous at the idea of such poverty, recalled what +Madame Séguin—to whom she referred as Valentine—had told her +of the dilapidated condition of the old shooting-box. But the doctor, after +listening with a smile, broke in: +</p> +<p> +"Mme. Séguin is a patient of mine. At the time when her last child was +born I advised her to stay at that pavilion. The atmosphere is wholesome, +and children ought to spring up there like couch-grass." +</p> +<p> +Thereupon, with a sonorous laugh, Beauchêne began to jest in his habitual +way, remarking that if the doctor were correct there would probably be no +end to Mathieu's progeny, numerous as it already was. But this elicited +an angry protest from Constance, who on the subject of children held the +same views as her husband himself professed in his more serious moments. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu thoroughly understood what they both meant. They regarded him and +his wife with derisive pity, tinged with anger. +</p> +<p> +The advent of the young couple's last child, little Rose, had already +increased their expenses to such a point that they had been obliged to +seek refuge in the country, in a mere pauper's hovel. And yet, in spite +of Beauchêne's sneers and Constance's angry remarks, Mathieu outwardly +remained very calm. Constance and Marianne had never been able to agree; +they differed too much in all respects; and for his part he laughed off +every attack, unwilling as he was to let anger master him, lest a rupture +should ensue. +</p> +<p> +But Beauchêne waxed passionate on the subject. That question of the +birth-rate and the present-day falling off in population was one which he +thought he had completely mastered, and on which he held forth at length +authoritatively. He began by challenging the impartiality of Boutan, whom +he knew to be a fervent partisan of large families. He made merry with +him, declaring that no medical man could possibly have a disinterested +opinion on the subject. Then he brought out all that he vaguely knew of +Malthusianism, the geometrical increase of births, and the arithmetical +increase of food-substances, the earth becoming so populous as to be +reduced to a state of famine within two centuries. It was the poor's own +fault, said he, if they led a life of starvation; they had only to limit +themselves to as many children as they could provide for. The rich were +falsely accused of social wrong-doing; they were by no means responsible +for poverty. Indeed, they were the only reasonable people; they alone, by +limiting their families, acted as good citizens should act. And he became +quite triumphant, repeating that he knew of no cause for self-reproach, +and that his ever-growing fortune left him with an easy conscience. It +was so much the worse for the poor, if they were bent on remaining poor. +In vain did the doctor urge that the Malthusian theories were shattered, +that the calculations had been based on a possible, not a real, increase +of population; in vain too did he prove that the present-day economic +crisis, the evil distribution of wealth under the capitalist system, was +the one hateful cause of poverty, and that whenever labor should be +justly apportioned among one and all the fruitful earth would easily +provide sustenance for happy men ten times more numerous than they are +now. The other refused to listen to anything, took refuge in his egotism, +declared that all those matters were no concern of his, that he felt no +remorse at being rich, and that those who wished to become rich had, in +the main, simply to do as he had done. +</p> +<p> +"Then, logically, this is the end of France, eh?" Boutan remarked +maliciously. "The number of births ever increases in Germany, Russia, and +elsewhere, while it decreases in a terrible way among us. Numerically the +rank we occupy in Europe is already very inferior to what it formerly +was; and yet number means power more than ever nowadays. It has been +calculated that an average of four children per family is necessary in +order that population may increase and the strength of a nation be +maintained. You have but one child; you are a bad patriot." +</p> +<p> +At this Beauchêne flew into a tantrum, quite beside himself, and gasped: +"I a bad patriot! I, who kill myself with hard work! I, who even export +French machinery!... Yes, certainly I see families, acquaintances +around me who may well allow themselves four children; and I grant that +they deserve censure when they have no families. But as for me, my dear +doctor, it is impossible. You know very well that in my position I +absolutely can't." +</p> +<p> +Then, for the hundredth time, he gave his reasons, relating how the works +had narrowly escaped being cut into pieces, annihilated, simply because +he had unfortunately been burdened with a sister. Séraphine had behaved +abominably. There had been first her dowry; next her demands for the +division of the property on their father's death; and the works had been +saved only by means of a large pecuniary sacrifice which had long +crippled their prosperity. And people imagined that he would be as +imprudent as his father! Why, if Maurice should have a brother or a +sister, he might hereafter find himself in the same dire embarrassment, +in which the family property might already have been destroyed. No, no! +He would not expose the boy to the necessity of dividing the inheritance +in accordance with badly framed laws. He was resolved that Maurice should +be the sole master of the fortune which he himself had derived from his +father, and which he would transmit to his heir increased tenfold. For +his son he dreamt of supreme wealth, a colossal fortune, such as nowadays +alone ensures power. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu, refraining from any intervention, listened and remained grave; +for this question of the birth-rate seemed to him a frightful one, the +foremost of all questions, deciding the destiny of mankind and the world. +There has never been any progress but such as has been determined by +increase of births. If nations have accomplished evolutions, if +civilization has advanced, it is because the nations have multiplied and +subsequently spread through all the countries of the earth. And will not +to-morrow's evolution, the advent of truth and justice, be brought about +by the constant onslaught of the greater number, the revolutionary +fruitfulness of the toilers and the poor? +</p> +<p> +It is quite true that Mathieu did not plainly say all these things to +himself; indeed, he felt slightly ashamed of the four children that he +already had, and was disturbed by the counsels of prudence addressed to +him by the Beauchênes. But within him there struggled his faith in life, +his belief that the greatest possible sum of life must bring about the +greatest sum of happiness. +</p> +<p> +At last, wishing to change the subject, he bethought himself of +Marianne's commission, and at the first favorable opportunity exclaimed: +"Well, we shall rely on you, Marianne and I, for Sunday after next, at +Janville." +</p> +<p> +But there was still no answer, for just then a servant came to say that a +woman with an infant in her arms desired to see Madame. And Beauchêne, +having recognized the wife of Moineaud, the fitter, bade her come in. +Boutan, who had now risen, was prompted by curiosity to remain a little +longer. +</p> +<p> +La Moineaude, short and fat like her husband, was a woman of about forty, +worn out before her time, with ashen face, pale eyes, thin faded hair, +and a weak mouth which already lacked many teeth. A large family had been +too much for her; and, moreover, she took no care of herself. +</p> +<p> +"Well, my good woman," Constance inquired, "what do you wish with me?" +</p> +<p> +But La Moineaude remained quite scared by the sight of all those people +whom she had not expected to find there. She said nothing. She had hoped +to speak to the lady privately. +</p> +<p> +"Is this your last-born?" Beauchêne asked her as he looked at the pale, +puny child on her arm. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, monsieur, it's my little Alfred; he's ten months old and I've had +to wean him, for I couldn't feed him any longer. I had nine others before +this one, but three are dead. My eldest son, Eugène, is a soldier in +Tonquin. You have my two big girls, Euphrasie and Norine, at the works. +And I have three left at home—Victor, who is now fifteen, then Cécile +and Irma, who are ten and seven. After Irma I thought I had done with +children for good, and I was well pleased. But, you see, this urchin +came! And I, forty too—it's not just! The good Lord must surely have +abandoned us." +</p> +<p> +Then Dr. Boutan began to question her. He avoided looking at the +Beauchênes, but there was a malicious twinkle in his little eyes, and it +was evident that he took pleasure in recapitulating the employer's +arguments against excessive prolificness. He pretended to get angry and +to reproach the Moineauds for their ten wretched children—the boys +fated to become food for powder, the girls always liable to misfortune. And +he gave the woman to understand that it was her own fault if she was in +distress; for people with a tribe of children about them could never +become rich. And the poor creature sadly answered that he was quite +right, but that no idea of becoming rich could ever have entered their +heads. Moineaud knew well enough that he would never be a cabinet +minister, and so it was all the same to them how many children they might +have on their hands. Indeed, a number proved a help when the youngsters +grew old enough to go out to work. +</p> +<p> +Beauchêne had become silent and slowly paced the room. A slight chill, a +feeling of uneasiness was springing up, and so Constance made haste to +inquire: "Well, my good woman, what is it I can do for you?" +</p> +<p> +"<i>Mon Dieu</i>, madame, it worries me; it's something which Moineaud +didn't dare to ask of Monsieur Beauchêne. For my part I hoped to find +you alone and beg you to intercede for us. The fact is we should be +very, very grateful if our little Victor could only be taken on at the +works." +</p> +<p> +"But he is only fifteen," exclaimed Beauchêne. "You must wait till he's +sixteen. The law is strict." +</p> +<p> +"No doubt. Only one might perhaps just tell a little fib. It would be +rendering us such a service—" +</p> +<p> +"No, it is impossible." +</p> +<p> +Big tears welled into La Moineaude's eyes. And Mathieu, who had listened +with passionate interest, felt quite upset. Ah! that wretched toil-doomed +flesh that hastened to offer itself without waiting until it was even +ripe for work! Ah! the laborer who is prepared to lie, whom hunger sets +against the very law designed for his own protection! +</p> +<p> +When La Moineaude had gone off in despair the doctor continued speaking +of juvenile and female labor. As soon as a woman first finds herself a +mother she can no longer continue toiling at a factory. Her lying-in and +the nursing of her babe force her to remain at home, or else grievous +infirmities may ensue for her and her offspring. As for the child, it +becomes anemic, sometimes crippled; besides, it helps to keep wages down +by being taken to work at a low scale of remuneration. Then the doctor +went on to speak of the prolificness of wretchedness, the swarming of the +lower classes. Was not the most hateful natality of all that which meant +the endless increase of starvelings and social rebels? +</p> +<p> +"I perfectly understand you," Beauchêne ended by saying, without any show +of anger, as he abruptly brought his perambulations to an end. "You want +to place me in contradiction with myself, and make me confess that I +accept Moineaud's seven children and need them, whereas I, with my fixed +determination to rest content with an only son, suppress, as it were, a +family in order that I may not have to subdivide my estate. France, 'the +country of only sons,' as folks say nowadays—that's it, eh? But, my +dear fellow, the question is so intricate, and at bottom I am altogether in +the right!" +</p> +<p> +Then he wished to explain things, and clapped his hand to his breast, +exclaiming that he was a liberal, a democrat, ready to demand all really +progressive measures. He willingly recognized that children were +necessary, that the army required soldiers, and the factories workmen. +Only he also invoked the prudential duties of the higher classes, and +reasoned after the fashion of a man of wealth, a conservative clinging to +the fortune he has acquired. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu meanwhile ended by understanding the brutal truth: Capital is +compelled to favor the multiplication of lives foredoomed to +wretchedness; in spite of everything it must stimulate the prolificness +of the wage-earning classes, in order that its profits may continue. The +law is that there must always be an excess of children in order that +there may be enough cheap workers. Then also speculation on the wages' +ratio wrests all nobility from labor, which is regarded as the worst +misfortune a man can be condemned to, when in reality it is the most +precious of boons. Such, then, is the cancer preying upon mankind. In +countries of political equality and economical inequality the capitalist +<i>régime</i>, the faulty distribution of wealth, at once restrains and +precipitates the birth-rate by perpetually increasing the wrongful +apportionment of means. On one side are the rich folk with "only" sons, +who continually increase their fortunes; on the other, the poor folk, +who, by reason of their unrestrained prolificness, see the little they +possess crumble yet more and more. If labor be honored to-morrow, if a +just apportionment of wealth be arrived at, equilibrium will be restored. +Otherwise social revolution lies at the end of the road. +</p> +<p> +But Beauchêne, in his triumphant manner, tried to show that he possessed +great breadth of mind; he admitted the disquieting strides of a decrease +of population, and denounced the causes of it—alcoholism, militarism, +excessive mortality among infants, and other numerous matters. Then he +indicated remedies; first, reductions in taxation, fiscal means in which +he had little faith; then freedom to will one's estate as one pleased, +which seemed to him more efficacious; a change, too, in the marriage +laws, without forgetting the granting of affiliation rights. +</p> +<p> +However, Boutan ended by interrupting him. "All the legislative measures +in the world will do nothing," said the doctor. "Manners and customs, our +notions of what is moral and what is not, our very conceptions of the +beautiful in life—all must be changed. If France is becoming +depopulated, it is because she so chooses. It is simply necessary then +for her to choose so no longer. But what a task—a whole world to +create anew!" +</p> +<p> +At this Mathieu raised a superb cry: "Well! we'll create it. I've begun +well enough, surely!" +</p> +<p> +But Constance, after laughing in a constrained way, in her turn thought +it as well to change the subject. And so she at last replied to his +invitation, saying that she would do her best to go to Janville, though +she feared she might not be able to dispose of a Sunday to do so. +</p> +<p> +Dr. Boutan then took his leave, and was escorted to the door by +Beauchêne, who still went on jesting, like a man well pleased with life, +one who was satisfied with himself and others, and who felt certain of +being able to arrange things as might best suit his pleasure and his +interests. +</p> +<p> +An hour later, a few minutes after midday, as Mathieu, who had been +delayed in the works, went up to the offices to fetch Morange as he had +promised to do, it occurred to him to take a short cut through the +women's workshop. And there, in that spacious gallery, already deserted +and silent, he came upon an unexpected scene which utterly amazed him. On +some pretext or other Norine had lingered there the last, and Beauchêne +was with her, clasping her around the waist whilst he eagerly pressed his +lips to hers. But all at once they caught sight of Mathieu and remained +thunderstruck. And he, for his part, fled precipitately, deeply annoyed +at having been a surprised witness to such a secret. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="II">II</a></h4> + +<p> +MORANGE, the chief accountant at Beauchêne's works, was a man of +thirty-eight, bald and already gray-headed, but with a superb dark, +fan-shaped beard, of which he was very proud. His full limpid eyes, +straight nose, and well-shaped if somewhat large mouth had in his younger +days given him the reputation of being a handsome fellow. He still took +great care of himself, invariably wore a tall silk hat, and preserved the +correct appearance of a very painstaking and well-bred clerk. + +"You don't know our new flat yet, do you?" he asked Mathieu as he led him +away. "Oh! it's perfect, as you will see. A bedroom for us and another +for Reine. And it is so close to the works too. I get there in four +minutes, watch in hand." +</p> +<p> +He, Morange, was the son of a petty commercial clerk who had died on his +stool after forty years of cloistral office-life. And he had married a +clerk's daughter, one Valérie Duchemin, the eldest of four girls whose +parents' home had been turned into a perfect hell, full of shameful +wretchedness and unacknowledgable poverty, through this abominable +incumbrance. Valérie, who was good-looking and ambitious, was lucky +enough, however, to marry that handsome, honest, and hard-working fellow, +Morange, although she was quite without a dowry; and, this accomplished, +she indulged in the dream of climbing a little higher up the social +ladder, and freeing herself from the loathsome world of petty clerkdom by +making the son whom she hoped to have either an advocate or a doctor. +Unfortunately the much-desired child proved to be a girl; and Valérie +trembled, fearful of finding herself at last with four daughters on her +hands, just as her mother had. Her dream thereupon changed, and she +resolved to incite her husband onward to the highest posts, so that she +might ultimately give her daughter a large dowry, and by this means gain +that admittance to superior spheres which she so eagerly desired. Her +husband, who was weak and extremely fond of her, ended by sharing her +ambition, ever revolving schemes of pride and conquest for her benefit. +But he had now been eight years at the Beauchêne works, and he still +earned but five thousand francs a year. This drove him and his wife to +despair. Assuredly it was not at Beauchêne's that he would ever make his +fortune. +</p> +<p> +"You see!" he exclaimed, after going a couple of hundred yards with +Mathieu along the Boulevard de Grenelle, "it is that new house yonder at +the street corner. It has a stylish appearance, eh?" +</p> +<p> +Mathieu then perceived a lofty modern pile, ornamented with balconies and +sculpture work, which looked quite out of place among the poor little +houses predominating in the district. +</p> +<p> +"Why, it is a palace!" he exclaimed, in order to please Morange, who +thereupon drew himself up quite proudly. +</p> +<p> +"You will see the staircase, my dear fellow! Our place, you know, is on +the fifth floor. But that is of no consequence with such a staircase, so +easy, so soft, that one climbs it almost without knowing." +</p> +<p> +Thereupon Morange showed his guest into the vestibule as if he were +ushering him into a temple. The stucco walls gleamed brightly; there was +a carpet on the stairs, and colored glass in the windows. And when, on +reaching the fifth story, the cashier opened the door with his latchkey, +he repeated, with an air of delight: "You will see, you will see!" +</p> +<p> +Valérie and Reine must have been on the watch, for they hastened forward. +At thirty-two Valérie was still young and charming. She was a +pleasant-looking brunette, with a round smiling face in a setting of +superb hair. She had a full, round bust, and admirable shoulders, of +which her husband felt quite proud whenever she showed herself in a +low-necked dress. Reine, at this time twelve years old, was the very +portrait of her mother, showing much the same smiling, if rather longer, +face under similar black tresses. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! it is very kind of you to accept our invitation," said Valérie gayly +as she pressed both Mathieu's hands. "What a pity that Madame Froment +could not come with you! Reine, why don't you relieve the gentleman of +his hat?" +</p> +<p> +Then she immediately continued: "We have a nice light anteroom, you see. +Would you like to glance over our flat while the eggs are being boiled? +That will always be one thing done, and you will then at least know where +you are lunching." +</p> +<p> +All this was said in such an agreeable way, and Morange on his side +smiled so good-naturedly, that Mathieu willingly lent himself to this +innocent display of vanity. First came the parlor, the corner room, the +walls of which were covered with pearl-gray paper with a design of golden +flowers, while the furniture consisted of some of those white lacquered +Louis XVI. pieces which makers turn out by the gross. The rosewood piano +showed like a big black blot amidst all the rest. Then, overlooking the +Boulevard de Grenelle, came Reine's bedroom, pale blue, with furniture of +polished pine. Her parents' room, a very small apartment, was at the +other end of the flat, separated from the parlor by the dining-room. The +hangings adorning it were yellow; and a bedstead, a washstand, and a +wardrobe, all of thuya, had been crowded into it. Finally the classic +"old carved oak" triumphed in the dining-room, where a heavily gilded +hanging lamp flashed like fire above the table, dazzling in its +whiteness. +</p> +<p> +"Why, it's delightful," Mathieu, repeated, by way of politeness; "why, +it's a real gem of a place." +</p> +<p> +In their excitement, father, mother, and daughter never ceased leading +him hither and thither, explaining matters to him and making him feel the +things. He was most struck, by the circumstance that the place recalled +something he had seen before; he seemed to be familiar with the +arrangement of the drawing-room, and with the way in which the nicknacks +in the bedchamber were set out. And all at once he remembered. Influenced +by envy and covert admiration, the Moranges, despite themselves, no +doubt, had tried to copy the Beauchênes. Always short of money as they +were, they could only and by dint of great sacrifices indulge in a +species of make-believe luxury. Nevertheless they were proud of it, and, +by imitating the envied higher class from afar, they imagined that they +drew nearer to it. +</p> +<p> +"And then," Morange exclaimed, as he opened the dining-room window, +"there is also this." +</p> +<p> +Outside, a balcony ran along the house-front, and at that height the view +was really a very fine one, similar to that obtained from the Beauchêne +mansion but more extensive, the Seine showing in the distance, and the +heights of Passy rising above the nearer and lower house-roofs. +</p> +<p> +Valérie also called attention to the prospect. "It is magnificent, is it +not?" said she; "far better than the few trees that one can see from the +quay." +</p> +<p> +The servant was now bringing the boiled eggs and they took their seats at +table, while Morange victoriously explained that the place altogether +cost him sixteen hundred francs a year. It was cheap indeed, though the +amount was a heavy charge on Morange's slender income. Mathieu now began +to understand that he had been invited more particularly to admire the +new flat, and these worthy people seemed so delighted to triumph over it +before him that he took the matter gayly and without thought of spite. +There was no calculating ambition in his nature; he envied nothing of the +luxury he brushed against in other people's homes, and he was quite +satisfied with the snug modest life he led with Marianne and his +children. Thus he simply felt surprised at finding the Moranges so +desirous of cutting a figure and making money, and looked at them with a +somewhat sad smile. +</p> +<p> +Valérie was wearing a pretty gown of <i>foulard</i> with a pattern of +little yellow flowers, while her daughter, Reine, whom she liked to deck +out coquettishly, had a frock of blue linen stuff. There was rather too +much luxury about the meal also. Soles followed the eggs, and then came +cutlets, and afterwards asparagus. +</p> +<p> +The conversation began with some mention of Janville. +</p> +<p> +"And so your children are in good health? Oh! they are very fine children +indeed. And you really like the country? How funny! I think I should feel +dreadfully bored there, for there is too great a lack of amusements. Why, +yes, we shall be delighted to go to see you there, since Madame Froment +is kind enough to invite us." +</p> +<p> +Then, as was bound to happen, the talk turned on the Beauchênes. This was +a subject which haunted the Moranges, who lived in perpetual admiration +of the Beauchênes, though at times they covertly criticised them. Valérie +was very proud of being privileged to attend Constance's Saturday +"at-homes," and of having been twice invited to dinner by her during the +previous winter. She on her side now had a day of her own, Tuesday, and +she even gave little private parties, and half ruined herself in +providing refreshments at them. As for her acquaintances, she spoke with +profound respect of Mme. Séguin du Hordel and that lady's magnificent +mansion in the Avenue d'Antin, for Constance had obligingly obtained her +an invitation to a ball there. But she was particularly vain of the +friendship of Beauchêne's sister, Séraphine, whom she invariably called +"Madame la Baronne de Lowicz." +</p> +<p> +"The Baroness came to my at-home one afternoon," she said. "She is so +very good-natured and so gay! You knew her formerly, did you not? After +her marriage, eh? when she became reconciled to her brother and their +wretched disputes about money matters were over. By the way, she has no +great liking for Madame Beauchêne, as you must know." +</p> +<p> +Then she again reverted to the manufacturer's wife, declared that little +Maurice, however sturdy he might look, was simply puffed out with bad +flesh; and she remarked that it would be a terrible blow for the parents +if they should lose that only son. The subject of children was thus +started, and when Mathieu, laughing, observed that they, the Moranges, +had but one child, the cashier protested that it was unfair to compare +him with M. Beauchêne, who was such a wealthy man. Valérie, for her part, +pictured the position of her parents, afflicted with four daughters, who +had been obliged to wait months and months for boots and frocks and hats, +and had grown up anyhow, in perpetual terror lest they should never find +husbands. A family was all very well, but when it happened to consist of +daughters the situation became terrible for people of limited means; for +if daughters were to be launched properly into life they must have +dowries. +</p> +<p> +"Besides," said she, "I am very ambitious for my husband, and I am +convinced that he may rise to a very high position if he will only listen +to me. But he must not be saddled with a lot of incumbrances. As things +stand, I trust that we may be able to get rich and give Reine a suitable +dowry." +</p> +<p> +Morange, quite moved by this little speech, caught hold of his wife's +hand and kissed it. Weak and good-natured as he was, Valérie was really +the one with will. It was she who had instilled some ambition into him, +and he esteemed her the more for it. +</p> +<p> +"My wife is a thoroughly good woman, you know, my dear Froment," said he. +"She has a good head as well as a good heart." +</p> +<p> +Then, while Valérie recapitulated her dream of wealth, the splendid flat +she would have, the receptions she would hold, and the two months which, +like the Beauchênes, she would spend at the seaside every summer, Mathieu +looked at her and her husband and pondered their position. Their case was +very different from that of old Moineaud, who knew that he would never be +a cabinet minister. Morange possibly dreamt that his wife would indeed +make him a minister some day. Every petty <i>bourgeois</i> in a democratic +community has a chance of rising and wishes to do so. Indeed, there is a +universal, ferocious rush, each seeking to push the others aside so that +he may the more speedily climb a rung of the social ladder. This general +ascent, this phenomenon akin to capillarity, is possible only in a +country where political equality and economic inequality prevail; for +each has the same right to fortune and has but to conquer it. There is, +however, a struggle of the vilest egotism, if one wishes to taste the +pleasures of the highly placed, pleasures which are displayed to the gaze +of all and are eagerly coveted by nearly everybody in the lower spheres. +Under a democratic constitution a nation cannot live happily if its +manners and customs are not simple, and if the conditions of life are not +virtually equal for one and all. Under other circumstances than these the +liberal professions prove all-devouring: there is a rush for public +functions; manual toil is regarded with contempt; luxury increases and +becomes necessary; and wealth and power are furiously appropriated by +assault in order that one may greedily taste the voluptuousness of +enjoyment. And in such a state of affairs, children, as Valérie put it, +were incumbrances, whereas one needed to be free, absolutely unburdened, +if one wished to climb over all one's competitors. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu also thought of that law of imitation which impels even the least +fortunate to impoverish themselves by striving to copy the happy ones of +the world. How great the distress which really lurks beneath that envied +luxury that is copied at such great cost! All sorts of useless needs are +created, and production is turned aside from the strictly necessary. One +can no longer express hardship by saying that people lack bread; what +they lack in the majority of cases is the superfluous, which they are +unable to renounce without imagining that they have gone to the dogs and +are in danger of starvation. +</p> +<p> +At dessert, when the servant was no longer present, Morange, excited by +his good meal, became expansive. Glancing at his wife he winked towards +their guest, saying: +</p> +<p> +"Come, he's a safe friend; one may tell him everything." +</p> +<p> +And when Valérie had consented with a smile and a nod, he went on: "Well, +this is the matter, my dear fellow: it is possible that I may soon leave +the works. Oh! it's not decided, but I'm thinking of it. Yes, I've been +thinking of it for some months past; for, when all is said, to earn five +thousand francs a year, after eight years' zeal, and to think that one +will never earn much more, is enough to make one despair of life." +</p> +<p> +"It's monstrous," the young woman interrupted: "it is like breaking one's +head intentionally against a wall." +</p> +<p> +"Well, in such circumstances, my dear friend, the best course is to look +out for something elsewhere, is it not? Do you remember Michaud, whom I +had under my orders at the works some six years ago? A very intelligent +fellow he was. Well, scarcely six years have elapsed since he left us to +go to the Crédit National, and what do you think he is now earning there? +Twelve thousand francs—you hear me—twelve thousand francs!" +</p> +<p> +The last words rang out like a trumpet-call. The Moranges' eyes dilated +with ecstasy. Even the little girl became very red. +</p> +<p> +"Last March," continued Morange, "I happened to meet Michaud, who told me +all that, and showed himself very amiable. He offered to take me with him +and help me on in my turn. Only there's some risk to run. He explained to +me that I must at first accept three thousand six hundred, so as to rise +gradually to a very big figure. But three thousand six hundred! How can +one live on that in the meantime, especially now that this flat has +increased our expenses?" +</p> +<p> +At this Valérie broke in impetuously: "'Nothing venture, nothing have!' +That's what I keep on repeating to him. Of course I am in favor of +prudence; I would never let him do anything rash which might compromise +his future. But, at the same time, he can't moulder away in a situation +unworthy of him." +</p> +<p> +"And so you have made up your minds?" asked Mathieu. +</p> +<p> +"Well, my wife has calculated everything," Morange replied; "and, yes, we +have made up our minds, provided, of course, that nothing unforeseen +occurs. Besides, it is only in October that any situation will be open at +the Crédit National. But, I say, my dear friend, keep the matter entirely +to yourself, for we don't want to quarrel with the Beauchênes just now." +</p> +<p> +Then he looked at his watch, for, like a good clerk, he was very +punctual, and did not wish to be late at the office. The servant was +hurried, the coffee was served, and they were drinking it, boiling hot as +it was, when the arrival of a visitor upset the little household and +caused everything to be forgotten. +</p> +<p> +"Oh!" exclaimed Valérie, as she hastily rose, flushed with pride, "Madame +la Baronne de Lowicz!" +</p> +<p> +Séraphine, at this time nine-and-twenty, was red-haired, tall and +elegant, with magnificent shoulders which were known to all Paris. Her +red lips were wreathed in a triumphant smile, and a voluptuous flame ever +shone in her large brown eyes flecked with gold. +</p> +<p> +"Pray don't disturb yourselves, my friends," said she. "Your servant +wanted to show me into the drawing-room, but I insisted on coming in +here, because it is rather a pressing matter. I have come to fetch your +charming little Reine to take her to a <i>matinée</i> at the Circus." +</p> +<p> +A fresh explosion of delight ensued. The child remained speechless with +joy, whilst the mother exulted and rattled on: "Oh! Madame la Baronne, +you are really too kind! You are spoiling the child. But the fact is that +she isn't dressed, and you will have to wait a moment. Come, child, make +haste, I will help you—ten minutes, you understand—I won't +keep you waiting a moment longer." +</p> +<p> +Séraphine remained alone with the two men. She had made a gesture of +surprise on perceiving Mathieu, whose hand, like an old friend, she now +shook. +</p> +<p> +"And you, are you quite well?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +"Quite well," he answered; and as she sat down near him he instinctively +pushed his chair back. He did not seem at all pleased at having met her. +</p> +<p> +He had been on familiar terms with her during his earlier days at the +Beauchêne works. She was a frantic pleasure-lover, and destitute of both +conscience and moral principles. Her conduct had given rise to scandal +even before her extraordinary elopement with Baron de Lowicz, that needy +adventurer with a face like an archangel's and the soul of a swindler. +The result of the union was a stillborn child. Then Séraphine, who was +extremely egotistical and avaricious, quarrelled with her husband and +drove him away. He repaired to Berlin, and was killed there in a brawl at +a gambling den. Delighted at being rid of him, Séraphine made every use of +her liberty as a young widow. She figured at every <i>fête</i>, took part +in every kind of amusement, and many scandalous stories were told of her; +but she contrived to keep up appearances and was thus still received +everywhere. +</p> +<p> +"You are living in the country, are you not?" she asked again, turning +towards Mathieu. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, we have been there for three weeks past." +</p> +<p> +"Constance told me of it. I met her the other day at Madame Séguin's. We +are on the best terms possible, you know, now that I give my brother good +advice." +</p> +<p> +In point of fact her sister-in-law, Constance, hated her, but with her +usual boldness she treated the matter as a joke. +</p> +<p> +"We talked about Dr. Gaude," she resumed; "I fancied that she wanted to +ask for his address; but she did not dare." +</p> +<p> +"Dr. Gaude!" interrupted Morange. "Ah! yes, a friend of my wife's spoke +to her about him. He's a wonderfully clever man, it appears. Some of his +operations are like miracles." +</p> +<p> +Then he went on talking of Dr. Gaude's clinic at the Hôpital Marbeuf, a +clinic whither society folks hastened to see operations performed, just +as they might go to a theatre. The doctor, who was fond of money, and who +bled his wealthy lady patients in more senses than one, was likewise +partial to glory and proud of accomplishing the most dangerous +experiments on the unhappy creatures who fell into his hands. The +newspapers were always talking about him, his cures were constantly +puffed and advertised by way of inducing fine ladies to trust themselves +to his skill. And he certainly accomplished wonders, cutting and carving +his patients in the quietest, most unconcerned way possible, with never a +scruple, never a doubt as to whether what he did was strictly right or +not. +</p> +<p> +Séraphine had begun to laugh, showing her white wolfish teeth between her +blood-red lips, when she noticed the horrified expression which had +appeared on Mathieu's face since Gaude had been spoken of. "Ah!" said +she; "there's a man, now, who in nowise resembles your squeamish Dr. +Boutan, who is always prattling about the birth-rate. I can't understand +why Constance keeps to that old-fashioned booby, holding the views she +does. She is quite right, you know, in her opinions. I fully share them." +</p> +<p> +Morange laughed complaisantly. He wished to show her that his opinions +were the same. However, as Valérie did not return with Reine, he grew +impatient, and asked permission to go and see what they were about. +Perhaps he himself might be able to help in getting the child ready. +</p> +<p> +As soon as Séraphine was alone with Mathieu she turned her big, ardent, +gold-flecked eyes upon him. She no longer laughed with the same laugh as +a moment previously; an expression of voluptuous irony appeared on her +bold bad face. After a spell of silence she inquired, "And is my good +cousin Marianne quite well?" +</p> +<p> +"Quite well," replied Mathieu. +</p> +<p> +"And the children are still growing?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, still growing." +</p> +<p> +"So you are happy, like a good paterfamilias, in your little nook?" +</p> +<p> +"Perfectly happy." +</p> +<p> +Again she lapsed into silence, but she did not cease to look at him, more +provoking, more radiant than ever, with the charm of a young sorceress +whose eyes burn and poison men's hearts. And at last she slowly resumed: +"And so it is all over between us?" +</p> +<p> +He made a gesture in token of assent. There had long since been a passing +fancy between them. He had been nineteen at the time, and she +two-and-twenty. He had then but just entered life, and she was already +married. But a few months later he had fallen in love with Marianne, and +had then entirely freed himself from her. +</p> +<p> +"All over—really?" she again inquired, smiling but aggressive. +</p> +<p> +She was looking very beautiful and bold, seeking to tempt him and carry +him off from that silly little cousin of hers, whose tears would simply +have made her laugh. And as Mathieu did not this time give her any +answer, even by a wave of the hand, she went on: "I prefer that: don't +reply: don't say that it is all over. You might make a mistake, you +know." +</p> +<p> +For a moment Mathieu's eyes flashed, then he closed them in order that he +might no longer see Séraphine, who was leaning towards him. It seemed as +if all the past were coming back. She almost pressed her lips to his as +she whispered that she still loved him; and when he drew back, full of +mingled emotion and annoyance, she raised her little hand to his mouth as +if she feared that he was again going to say no. +</p> +<p> +"Be quiet," said she; "they are coming." +</p> +<p> +The Moranges were now indeed returning with Reine, whose hair had been +curled. The child looked quite delicious in her frock of rose silk decked +with white lace, and her large hat trimmed with some of the dress +material. Her gay round face showed with flowery delicacy under the rose +silk. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, what a love!" exclaimed Séraphine by way of pleasing the parents. +"Somebody will be stealing her from me, you know." +</p> +<p> +Then it occurred to her to kiss the child in passionate fashion, feigning +the emotion of a woman who regrets that she is childless. "Yes; indeed +one regrets it very much when one sees such a treasure as this sweet girl +of yours. Ah! if one could only be sure that God would give one such a +charming child—well, at all events, I shall steal her from you; you +need not expect me to bring her back again." +</p> +<p> +The enraptured Moranges laughed delightedly. And Mathieu, who knew her +well, listened in stupefaction. How many times during their short and +passionate attachment had she not inveighed against children! In her +estimation maternity poisoned love, aged woman, and made a horror of her +in the eyes of man. +</p> +<p> +The Moranges accompanied her and Reine to the landing. And they could not +find words warm enough to express their happiness at seeing such coveted +wealth and luxury come to seek their daughter. When the door of the flat +was closed Valérie darted on to the balcony, exclaiming, "Let us see them +drive off." +</p> +<p> +Morange, who no longer gave a thought to the office, took up a position +near her, and called Mathieu and compelled him likewise to lean over and +look down. A well-appointed victoria was waiting below with a +superb-looking coachman motionless on the box-seat. This sight put a +finishing touch to the excitement of the Moranges. When Séraphine had +installed the little girl beside her, they laughed aloud. +</p> +<p> +"How pretty she looks! How happy she must feel!" +</p> +<p> +Reine must have been conscious that they were looking at her, for she +raised her head, smiled and bowed. And Séraphine did the same, while the +horse broke into a trot and turned the corner of the avenue. Then came a +final explosion— +</p> +<p> +"Look at her!" repeated Valérie; "she is so candid! At twelve years old +she is still as innocent as a child in her cradle. You know that I trust +her to nobody. Wouldn't one think her a little duchess who has always had +a carriage of her own?" +</p> +<p> +Then Morange reverted to his dream of fortune. "Well," said he, "I hope +that she <i>will</i> have a carriage when we marry her off. Just let me get +into the Crédit National and you will see all your desires fulfilled." +</p> +<p> +And turning towards Mathieu he added, "There are three of us, and, as I +have said before, that is quite enough for a man to provide for, +especially as money is so hard to earn." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="III">III</a></h4> + +<p> +AT the works during the afternoon Mathieu, who wished to be free earlier +than usual in order that, before dining in town, he might call upon his +landlord, in accordance with his promise to Marianne, found himself so +busy that he scarcely caught sight of Beauchêne. This was a relief, for +the secret which he had discovered by chance annoyed him, and he feared +lest he might cause his employer embarrassment. But the latter, when they +exchanged a few passing words, did not seem to remember even that there +was any cause for shame on his part. He had never before shown himself +more active, more devoted to business. The fatigue he had felt in the +morning had passed away, and he talked and laughed like one who finds +life very pleasant, and has no fear whatever of hard work. +</p> +<p> +As a rule Mathieu left at six o'clock; but that day he went into +Morange's office at half-past five to receive his month's salary. This +rightly amounted to three hundred and fifty francs; but as five hundred +had been advanced to him in January, which he paid back by instalments of +fifty, he now received only fifteen louis, and these he pocketed with +such an air of satisfaction that the accountant commented on it. +</p> +<p> +"Well," said the young fellow, "the money's welcome, for I left my wife +with just thirty sous this morning." +</p> +<p> +It was already more than six o'clock when he found himself outside the +superb house which the Séguin du Hordel family occupied in the Avenue +d'Antin. Séguin's grandfather had been a mere tiller of the soil at +Janville. Later on, his father, as a contractor for the army, had made a +considerable fortune. And he, son of a parvenu, led the life of a rich, +elegant idler. He was a member of the leading clubs, and, while +passionately fond of horses, affected also a taste for art and +literature, going for fashion's sake to extreme opinions. He had proudly +married an almost portionless girl of a very ancient aristocratic race, +the last of the Vaugelades, whose blood was poor and whose mind was +narrow. Her mother, an ardent Catholic, had only succeeded in making of +her one who, while following religious practices, was eager for the joys +of the world. Séguin, since his marriage, had likewise practised +religion, because it was fashionable to do so. His peasant grandfather +had had ten children; his father, the army contractor, had been content +with six; and he himself had two, a boy and a girl, and deemed even that +number more than was right. +</p> +<p> +One part of Séguin's fortune consisted of an estate of some twelve hundred +acres—woods and heaths—above Janville, which his father had +purchased with some of his large gains after retiring from business. The +old man's long-caressed dream had been to return in triumph to his native +village, whence he had started quite poor, and he was on the point of +there building himself a princely residence in the midst of a vast park +when death snatched him away. Almost the whole of this estate had come to +Séguin in his share of the paternal inheritance, and he had turned the +shooting rights to some account by dividing them into shares of five +hundred francs value, which his friends eagerly purchased. The income +derived from this source was, however, but a meagre one. Apart from the +woods there was only uncultivated land on the estate, marshes, patches of +sand, and fields of stones; and for centuries past the opinion of the +district had been that no agriculturist could ever turn the expanse to +good account. The defunct army contractor alone had been able to picture +there a romantic park, such as he had dreamt of creating around his regal +abode. It was he, by the way, who had obtained an authorization to add to +the name of Séguin that of Du Hordel—taken from a ruined tower called +the Hordel which stood on the estate. +</p> +<p> +It was through Beauchêne, one of the shareholders of the shooting +rights, that Mathieu had made Séguin's acquaintance, and had discovered +the old hunting-box, the lonely, quiet pavilion, which had pleased him +so much that he had rented it. Valentine, who good-naturedly treated +Marianne as a poor friend, had even been amiable enough to visit her +there, and had declared the situation of the place to be quite poetical, +laughing the while over her previous ignorance of it like one who had +known nothing of her property. In reality she herself would not have +lived there for an hour. Her husband had launched her into the feverish +life of literary, artistic, and social Paris, hurrying her to +gatherings, studios, exhibitions, theatres, and other pleasure +resorts—all those brasier-like places where weak heads and +wavering hearts are lost. He himself, amid all his passion for show, +felt bored to death everywhere, and was at ease only among his horses; +and this despite his pretensions with respect to advanced literature and +philosophy, his collections of curios, such as the <i>bourgeois</i> of +to-day does not yet understand, his furniture, his pottery, his +pewter-work, and particularly his bookbindings, of which he was very +proud. And he was turning his wife into a copy of himself, perverting +her by his extravagant opinions and his promiscuous friendships, so that +the little devotee who had been confided to his keeping was now on the +high road to every kind of folly. She still went to mass and partook of +the holy communion; but she was each day growing more and more familiar +with wrong-doing. A disaster must surely be at the end of it all, +particularly as he foolishly behaved to her in a rough, jeering way, +which greatly hurt her feelings, and led her to dream of being loved +with gentleness. +</p> +<p> +When Mathieu entered the house, which displayed eight lofty windows on +each of the stories of its ornate Renaissance façade, he laughed lightly +as he thought: "These folks don't have to wait for a monthly pittance of +three hundred francs, with just thirty sous in hand." +</p> +<p> +The hall was extremely rich, all bronze and marble. On the right hand +were the dining-room and two drawing-rooms; on the left a billiard-room, +a smoking-room, and a winter garden. On the first floor, in front of the +broad staircase, was Séguin's so-called "cabinet," a vast apartment, +sixteen feet high, forty feet long, and six-and-twenty feet wide, which +occupied all the central part of the house; while the husband's bed and +dressing rooms were on the right, and those of the wife and children on +the left hand. Up above, on the second floor, two complete suites of +rooms were kept in reserve for the time when the children should have +grown up. +</p> +<p> +A footman, who knew Mathieu, at once took him upstairs to the cabinet +and begged him to wait there, while Monsieur finished dressing. For a +moment the visitor fancied himself alone and glanced round the spacious +room, feeling interested in its adornments, the lofty windows of old +stained glass, the hangings of old Genoese velvet and brocaded silk, the +oak bookcases showing the highly ornamented backs of the volumes they +contained; the tables laden with <i>bibelots</i>, bronzes, marbles, +goldsmith's work, glass work, and the famous collection of modern +pewter-work. Then Eastern carpets were spread out upon all sides; there +were low seats and couches for every mood of idleness, and cosy nooks in +which one could hide oneself behind fringes of lofty plants. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! so it's you, Monsieur Froment," suddenly exclaimed somebody in the +direction of the table allotted to the pewter curios. And thereupon a +tall young man of thirty, whom a screen had hitherto hidden from +Mathieu's view, came forward with outstretched hand. +</p> +<p> +"Ah!" said Mathieu, after a moment's hesitation, "Monsieur Charles +Santerre." +</p> +<p> +This was but their second meeting. They had found themselves together +once before in that same room. Charles Santerre, already famous as a +novelist, a young master popular in Parisian drawing-rooms, had a fine +brow, caressing brown eyes, and a large red mouth which his moustache and +beard, cut in the Assyrian style and carefully curled, helped to conceal. +He had made his way, thanks to women, whose society he sought under +pretext of studying them, but whom he was resolved to use as instruments +of fortune. As a matter of calculation and principle he had remained a +bachelor and generally installed himself in the nests of others. In +literature feminine frailty was his stock subject he had made it his +specialty to depict scenes of guilty love amid elegant, refined +surroundings. At first he had no illusions as to the literary value of +his works; he had simply chosen, in a deliberate way, what he deemed to +be a pleasant and lucrative trade. But, duped by his successes, he had +allowed pride to persuade him that he was really a writer. And nowadays +he posed as the painter of an expiring society, professing the greatest +pessimism, and basing a new religion on the annihilation of human +passion, which annihilation would insure the final happiness of the +world. +</p> +<p> +"Séguin will be here in a moment," he resumed in an amiable way. "It +occurred to me to take him and his wife to dine at a restaurant this +evening, before going to a certain first performance where there will +probably be some fisticuffs and a rumpus to-night." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu then for the first time noticed that Santerre was in evening +dress. They continued chatting for a moment, and the novelist called +attention to a new pewter treasure among Séguin's collection. It +represented a long, thin woman, stretched full-length, with her hair +streaming around her. She seemed to be sobbing as she lay there, and +Santerre declared the conception to be a masterpiece. The figure +symbolized the end of woman, reduced to despair and solitude when man +should finally have made up his mind to have nothing further to do with +her. It was the novelist who, in literary and artistic matters, helped on +the insanity which was gradually springing up in the Séguins' home. +</p> +<p> +However, Séguin himself now made his appearance. He was of the same age +as Santerre, but was taller and slimmer, with fair hair, an aquiline +nose, gray eyes, and thin lips shaded by a slight moustache. He also was +in evening dress. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! well, my dear fellow," said he with the slight lisp which he +affected, "Valentine is determined to put on a new gown. So we must be +patient; we shall have an hour to wait." +</p> +<p> +Then, on catching sight of Mathieu, he began to apologize, evincing much +politeness and striving to accentuate his air of frigid distinction. +When the young man, whom he called his amiable tenant, had acquainted +him with the motive of his visit—the leak in the zinc roof of the +little pavilion at Janville—he at once consented to let the local +plumber do any necessary soldering. But when, after fresh explanations, +he understood that the roofing was so worn and damaged that it required +to be changed entirely, he suddenly departed from his lofty affability +and began to protest, declaring that he could not possibly expend in +such repairs a sum which would exceed the whole annual rental of six +hundred francs. +</p> +<p> +"Some soldering," he repeated; "some soldering; it's understood. I will +write to the plumber." And wishing to change the subject he added: "Oh! +wait a moment, Monsieur Froment. You are a man of taste, I know, and I +want to show you a marvel." +</p> +<p> +He really had some esteem for Mathieu, for he knew that the young fellow +possessed a quick appreciative mind. Mathieu began to smile, outwardly +yielding to this attempt to create a diversion, but determined at heart +that he would not leave the place until he had obtained the promise of a +new roof. He took hold of a book, clad in a marvellous binding, which +Séguin had fetched from a bookcase and tendered with religious care. On +the cover of soft snow-white leather was incrusted a long silver lily, +intersected by a tuft of big violet thistles. The title of the work, +"Beauty Imperishable," was engraved up above, as in a corner of the sky. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! what a delightful conception, what delightful coloring!" declared +Mathieu, who was really charmed. "Some bindings nowadays are perfect +gems." Then he noticed the title: "Why, it's Monsieur Santerre's last +novel!" said he. +</p> +<p> +Séguin smiled and glanced at the writer, who had drawn near. And when he +saw him examining the book and looking quite moved by the compliment paid +to it, he exclaimed: "My dear fellow, the binder brought it here this +morning, and I was awaiting an opportunity to surprise you with it. It is +the pearl of my collection! What do you think of the idea—that lily +which symbolizes triumphant purity, and those thistles, the plants which +spring up among ruins, and which symbolize the sterility of the world, at +last deserted, again won over to the only perfect felicity? All your work +lies in those symbols, you know." +</p> +<p> +"Yes, yes. But you spoil me; you will end by making me proud." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu had read Santerre's novel, having borrowed a copy of it from Mme. +Beauchêne, in order that his wife might see it, since it was a book that +everybody was talking of. And the perusal of it had exasperated him. +Forsaking the customary bachelor's flat where in previous works he had +been so fond of laying scenes of debauchery, Santerre had this time tried +to rise to the level of pure art and lyrical symbolism. The story he told +was one of a certain Countess Anne-Marie, who, to escape a rough-mannered +husband of extreme masculinity, had sought a refuge in Brittany in the +company of a young painter endowed with divine inspiration, one Norbert, +who had undertaken to decorate a convent chapel with paintings that +depicted his various visions. And for thirty years he went on painting +there, ever in colloquy with the angels, and ever having Anne-Marie +beside him. And during those thirty years of love the Countess's beauty +remained unimpaired; she was as young and as fresh at the finish as at +the outset; whereas certain secondary personages, introduced into the +story, wives and mothers of a neighboring little town, sank into physical +and mental decay, and monstrous decrepitude. Mathieu considered the +author's theory that all physical beauty and moral nobility belonged to +virgins only, to be thoroughly imbecile, and he could not restrain +himself from hinting his disapproval of it. +</p> +<p> +Both Santerre and Séguin, however, hotly opposed him, and quite a +discussion ensued. First Santerre took up the matter from a religious +standpoint. Said he, the words of the Old Testament, "Increase and +multiply," were not to be found in the New Testament, which was the true +basis of the Christian religion. The first Christians, he declared, had +held marriage in horror, and with them the Holy Virgin had become the +ideal of womanhood. Séguin thereupon nodded approval and proceeded to +give his opinions on feminine beauty. But these were hardly to the taste +of Mathieu, who promptly pointed out that the conception of beauty had +often varied. +</p> +<p> +"To-day," said he, "you conceive beauty to consist in a long, slim, +attenuated, almost angular figure; but at the time of the Renaissance the +type of the beautiful was very different. Take Rubens, take Titian, take +even Raffaelle, and you will see that their women were of robust build. +Even their Virgin Marys have a motherly air. To my thinking, moreover, if +we reverted to some such natural type of beauty, if women were not +encouraged by fashion to compress and attenuate their figures so that +their very nature, their very organism is changed, there would perhaps be +some hope of coping with the evil of depopulation which is talked about +so much nowadays." +</p> +<p> +The others looked at him and smiled with an air of compassionate +superiority. "Depopulation an evil!" exclaimed Séguin; "can you, my dear +sir, intelligent as you are, still believe in that hackneyed old story? +Come, reflect and reason a little." +</p> +<p> +Then Santerre chimed in, and they went on talking one after the other and +at times both together. Schopenhauer and Hartmann and Nietzsche were +passed in review, and they claimed Malthus as one of themselves. But all +this literary pessimism did not trouble Mathieu. He, with his belief in +fruitfulness, remained convinced that the nation which no longer had +faith in life must be dangerously ill. True, there were hours when he +doubted the expediency of numerous families and asked himself if ten +thousand happy people were not preferable to a hundred thousand unhappy +ones; in which connection political and economic conditions had to be +taken into account. But when all was said, he remained almost convinced +that the Malthusian hypotheses would prove as false in the future as they +had proved false in the past. +</p> +<p> +"Moreover," said he, "even if the world should become densely populated, +even if food supplies, such as we know them, should fall short, chemistry +would extract other means of subsistence from inorganic matter. And, +besides, all such eventualities are so far away that it is impossible to +make any calculation on a basis of scientific certainty. In France, too, +instead of contributing to any such danger, we are going backward, we are +marching towards annihilation. The population of France was once a fourth +of the population of Europe, but now it is only one-eighth. In a century +or two Paris will be dead, like ancient Athens and ancient Rome, and we +shall have fallen to the rank that Greece now occupies. Paris seems +determined to die." +</p> +<p> +But Santerre protested: "No, no; Paris simply wishes to remain +stationary, and it wishes this precisely because it is the most +intelligent, most highly civilized city in the world. The more nations +advance in civilization the smaller becomes their birth-rate. We are +simply giving the world an example of high culture, superior +intelligence, and other nations will certainly follow that example when +in turn they also attain to our state of perfection. There are signs of +this already on every side." +</p> +<p> +"Quite so!" exclaimed Séguin, backing up his friend. "The phenomenon is +general; all the nations show the same symptoms, and are decreasing in +numbers, or will decrease as soon as they become civilized. Japan is +affected already, and the same will be the case with China as soon as +Europe forces open the door there." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu had become grave and attentive since the two society men, seated +before him in evening dress, had begun to talk more rationally. The pale, +slim, flat virgin, their ideal of feminine beauty, was no longer in +question. The history of mankind was passing by. And almost as if +communing with himself, he said: "So you do not fear the Yellow Peril, +that terrible swarming of Asiatic barbarians who, it was said, would at +some fatal moment sweep down on our Europe, ravage it, and people it +afresh? In past ages, history always began anew in that fashion, by the +sudden shifting of oceans, the invasion of fierce rough races coming to +endow weakened nations with new blood. And after each such occurrence +civilization flowered afresh, more broadly and freely than ever. How was +it that Babylon, Nineveh, and Memphis fell into dust with their +populations, who seem to have died on the spot? How is it that Athens and +Rome still agonize to-day, unable to spring afresh from their ashes and +renew the splendor of their ancient glory? How is it that death has +already laid its hand upon Paris, which, whatever her splendor, is but +the capital of a France whose virility is weakened? You may argue as you +please and say that, like the ancient capitals of the world, Paris is +dying of an excess of culture, intelligence, and civilization; it is none +the less a fact that she is approaching death, the turn of the tide which +will carry splendor and power to some new nation. Your theory of +equilibrium is wrong. Nothing can remain stationary; whatever ceases to +grow, decreases and disappears. And if Paris is bent on dying, she will +die, and the country with her." +</p> +<p> +"Well, for my part," declared Santerre, resuming the pose of an elegant +pessimist, "if she wishes to die, I shan't oppose her. In fact, I'm fully +determined to help her." +</p> +<p> +"It is evident that the really honest, sensible course is to check any +increase of population," added Séguin. +</p> +<p> +But Mathieu, as if he had not heard them, went on: "I know Herbert +Spencer's law, and I believe it to be theoretically correct. It is +certain that civilization is a check to fruitfulness, so that one may +picture a series of social evolutions conducing now to decrease and now +to increase of population, the whole ending in final equilibrium, by the +very effect of culture's victory when the world shall be entirely +populated and civilized. But who can foretell what road will be followed, +through what disasters and sufferings one may have to go? More and more +nations may disappear, and others may replace them; and how many +thousands of years may not be needed before the final adjustment, +compounded of truth, justice, and peace, is arrived at? At the thought of +this the mind trembles and hesitates, and the heart contracts with a +pang." +</p> +<p> +Deep silence fell while he thus remained disturbed, shaken in his faith +in the good powers of life, and at a loss as to who was right—he or +those two men so languidly stretched out before him. +</p> +<p> +But Valentine, Séguin's wife, came in, laughing and making an exhibition +of masculine ways, which it had cost her much trouble to acquire. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! you people; you must not bear me any malice, you know. That girl +Céleste takes such a time over everything!" +</p> +<p> +At five-and-twenty Valentine was short, slight, and still girlish. Fair, +with a delicate face, laughing blue eyes, and a pert little nose, she +could not claim to be pretty. Still she was charming and droll, and very +free and easy in her ways; for not only did her husband take her about +with him to all sorts of objectionable places, but she had become quite +familiar with the artists and writers who frequented the house. Thus it +was only in the presence of something extremely insulting that she again +showed herself the last of the Vaugelades, and would all at once draw +herself up and display haughty contempt and frigidity. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! it's you, Monsieur Froment," she said amiably, stepping towards +Mathieu and shaking his hand in cavalier fashion. "Is Madame Froment in +good health? Are the children flourishing as usual?" +</p> +<p> +Séguin was examining her dress, a gown of white silk trimmed with +unbleached lace, and he suddenly gave way to one of those horribly rude +fits which burst forth at times amid all his great affectation of +politeness. "What! have you kept us waiting all this time to put that rag +on? Well, you never looked a greater fright in your life!" +</p> +<p> +And she had entered the room convinced that she looked charming! She made +an effort to control herself, but her girlish face darkened and assumed +an expression of haughty, vindictive revolt. Then she slowly turned her +eyes towards the friend who was present, and who was gazing at her with +ecstasy, striving to accentuate the slavish submissiveness of his +attitude. +</p> +<p> +"You look delicious!" he murmured; "that gown is a marvel." +</p> +<p> +Séguin laughed and twitted Santerre on his obsequiousness towards women. +Valentine, mollified by the compliment, soon recovered her birdlike +gayety, and such free and easy conversation ensued between the trio that +Mathieu felt both stupefied and embarrassed. In fact, he would have gone +off at once had it not been for his desire to obtain from his landlord a +promise to repair the pavilion properly. +</p> +<p> +"Wait another moment," Valentine at last said to her husband; "I told +Céleste to bring the children, so that we might kiss them before +starting." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu wished to profit by this fresh delay, and sought to renew his +request; but Valentine was already rattling on again, talking of dining +at the most disreputable restaurant possible, and asking if at the first +performance which they were to attend they would see all the horrors +which had been hissed at the dress rehearsal the night before. She +appeared like a pupil of the two men between whom she stood. She even +went further in her opinions than they did, displaying the wildest +pessimism, and such extreme views on literature and art that they +themselves could not forbear laughing. Wagner was greatly over-estimated, +in her opinion; she asked for invertebrate music, the free harmony of the +passing wind. As for her moral views, they were enough to make one +shudder. She had got past the argumentative amours of Ibsen's idiotic, +rebellious heroines, and had now reached the theory of pure intangible +beauty. She deemed Santerre's last creation, Anne-Marie, to be far too +material and degraded, because in one deplorable passage the author +remarked that Norbert's kisses had left their trace on the Countess's +brow. Santerre disputed the quotation, whereupon she rushed upon the +volume and sought the page to which she had referred. +</p> +<p> +"But I never degraded her," exclaimed the novelist in despair. "She never +has a child." +</p> +<p> +"Pooh! What of that?" exclaimed Valentine. "If Anne-Marie is to raise our +hearts she ought to be like spotless marble, and Norbert's kisses should +leave no mark upon her." +</p> +<p> +But she was interrupted, for Céleste, the maid, a tall dark girl with an +equine head, big features, and a pleasant air, now came in with the two +children. Gaston was at this time five years old, and Lucie was three. +Both were slight and delicate, pale like roses blooming in the shade. +Like their mother, they were fair. The lad's hair was inclined to be +carroty, while that of the girl suggested the color of oats. And they +also had their mother's blue eyes, but their faces were elongated like +that of their father. Dressed in white, with their locks curled, arrayed +indeed in the most coquettish style, they looked like big fragile dolls. +The parents were touched in their worldly pride at sight of them, and +insisted on their playing their parts with due propriety. +</p> +<p> +"Well, don't you wish anybody good evening?" +</p> +<p> +The children were not timid; they were already used to society and looked +visitors full in the face. If they made little haste, it was because they +were naturally indolent and did not care to obey. They at last made up +their minds and allowed themselves to be kissed. +</p> +<p> +"Good evening, good friend Santerre." +</p> +<p> +Then they hesitated before Mathieu, and their father had to remind them +of the gentleman's name, though they had already seen him on two or three +occasions. +</p> +<p> +"Good evening, Monsieur Froment." +</p> +<p> +Valentine took hold of them, sat them on her lap, and half stifled them +with caresses. She seemed to adore them, but as soon as she had sat them +down again she forgot all about them. +</p> +<p> +"So you are going out again, mamma?" asked the little boy. +</p> +<p> +"Why, yes, my darling. Papas and mammas, you know, have their affairs to +see to." +</p> +<p> +"So we shall have dinner all alone, mamma?" +</p> +<p> +Valentine did not answer, but turned towards the maid, who was waiting +for orders;— +</p> +<p> +"You are not to leave them for a moment, Céleste—you hear? And, above +all things, they are not to go into the kitchen. I can never come home +without finding them in the kitchen. It is exasperating. Let them have +their dinner at seven, and put them to bed at nine. And see that they go +to sleep." +</p> +<p> +The big girl with the equine head listened with an air of respectful +obedience, while her faint smile expressed the cunning of a Norman +peasant who had been five years in Paris already and was hardened to +service, and well knew what was done with children when the master and +mistress were absent. +</p> +<p> +"Madame," she said in a simple way, "Mademoiselle Lucie is poorly. She +has been sick again." +</p> +<p> +"What? sick again!" cried the father in a fury. "I am always hearing of +that! They are always being sick! And it always happens when we are going +out! It is very disagreeable, my dear; you might see to it; you ought not +to let our children have <i>papier-mâché</i> stomachs!" +</p> +<p> +The mother made an angry gesture, as if to say that she could not help +it. As a matter of fact, the children were often poorly. They had +experienced every childish ailment, they were always catching cold or +getting feverish. And they preserved the mute, moody, and somewhat +anxious demeanor of children who are abandoned to the care of servants. +</p> +<p> +"Is it true you were poorly, my little Lucie?" asked Valentine, stooping +down to the child. "You aren't poorly now, are you? No, no, it's nothing, +nothing at all. Kiss me, my pet; bid papa good night very prettily, so +that he may not feel worried in leaving you." +</p> +<p> +She rose up, already tranquillized and gay again; and, noticing that +Mathieu was looking at her, she exclaimed: +</p> +<p> +"Ah! these little folks give one a deal of worry. But one loves them +dearly all the same, though, so far as there is happiness in life, it +would perhaps be better for them never to have been born. However, my +duty to the country is done. Each wife ought to have a boy and a girl as +I have." +</p> +<p> +Thereupon Mathieu, seeing that she was jesting, ventured to say with a +laugh: +</p> +<p> +"Well, that isn't the opinion of your medical man, Dr. Boutan. He +declares that to make the country prosperous every married couple ought +to have four children." +</p> +<p> +"Four children! He's mad!" cried Séguin. And again with the greatest +freedom of language he brought forward his pet theories. There was a +world of meaning in his wife's laughter while Céleste stood there unmoved +and the children listened without understanding. But at last Santerre led +the Séguins away. It was only in the hall that Mathieu obtained from his +landlord a promise that he would write to the plumber at Janville and +that the roof of the pavilion should be entirely renovated, since the +rain came into the bedrooms. +</p> +<p> +The Séguins' landau was waiting at the door. When they had got into it +with their friend, it occurred to Mathieu to raise his eyes; and at one +of the windows he perceived Céleste standing between the two children, +intent, no doubt, on assuring herself that Monsieur and Madame were +really going. The young man recalled Reine's departure from her parents; +but here both Lucie and Gaston remained motionless, gravely mournful, and +neither their father nor their mother once thought of looking up at them. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="IV">IV</a></h4> + +<p> +AT half-past seven o'clock, when Mathieu arrived at the restaurant on the +Place de la Madeleine where he was to meet his employer, he found him +already there, drinking a glass of madeira with his customer, M. +Firon-Badinier. The dinner was a remarkable one; choice viands and the +best wines were served in abundance. But Mathieu was struck less by the +appetite which the others displayed than by Beauchêne's activity and +skill. Glass in hand, never losing a bite, he had already persuaded his +customer, by the time the roast arrived, to order not only the new +thresher but also a mowing machine. M. Firon-Badinier was to take the +train for Evreux at nine-twenty, and when nine o'clock struck, the other, +now eager to be rid of him, contrived to pack him off in a cab to the +St.-Lazare railway station. +</p> +<p> +For a moment Beauchêne remained standing on the pavement with Mathieu, +and took off his hat in order that the mild breezes of that delightful +May evening might cool his burning head. +</p> +<p> +"Well, that's settled," he said with a laugh. "But it wasn't so easily +managed. It was the Pommard which induced the beggar to make up his mind. +All the same, I was dreadfully afraid he would make me miss my +appointment." +</p> +<p> +These remarks, which escaped him amid his semi-intoxication, led him to +more confidential talk. He put on his hat again, lighted a fresh cigar, +and took Mathieu's arm. Then they walked on slowly through the +passion-stirred throng and the nightly blaze of the Boulevards. +</p> +<p> +"There's plenty of time," said Beauchêne. "I'm not expected till +half-past nine, and it's close by. Will you have a cigar? No? You never +smoke?" +</p> +<p> +"Never." +</p> +<p> +"Well, my dear fellow, it would be ridiculous to feign with you, since +you happened to see me this morning. Oh, it's a stupid affair! I'm quite +of that opinion; but, then, what would you have?" +</p> +<p> +Thereupon he launched out into long explanations concerning his marital +life and the intrigue which had suddenly sprung up between him and that +girl Norine, old Moineaud's daughter. He professed the greatest respect +for his wife, but he was nevertheless a loose liver; and Constance was +now beginning to resign herself to the inevitable. She closed her eyes +when it would have been unpleasant for her to keep them open. She knew +very well that it was essential that the business should be kept together +and pass intact into the hands of their son Maurice. A tribe of children +would have meant the ruin of all their plans. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu listened at first in great astonishment, and then began to ask +questions and raise objections, at most of which Beauchêne laughed gayly, +like the gross egotist he was. He talked at length with extreme +volubility, going into all sorts of details, at times assuming a +semi-apologetic manner, but more frequently justifying himself with an +air of triumph. And, finally, when they reached the corner of the Rue +Caumartin he halted to bid Mathieu good-by. He there had a little +bachelor's lodging, which was kept in order by the <i>concierge</i> of the +house, who, being very well paid, proved an extremely discreet domestic. +</p> +<p> +As he hurried off, Mathieu, still standing at the corner of the street, +could not help thinking of the scenes which he had witnessed at the +Beauchêne works that day. He thought of old Moineaud, the fitter, whom he +again saw standing silent and unmoved in the women's workroom while his +daughter Euphrasie was being soundly rated by Beauchêne, and while +Norine, the other girl, looked on with a sly laugh. When the toiler's +children have grown up and gone to join, the lads the army of slaughter, +and the girls the army of vice, the father, degraded by the ills of life, +pays little heed to it all. To him it is seemingly a matter of +indifference to what disaster the wind may carry the fledgelings who fall +from the nest. +</p> +<p> +It was now half-past nine o'clock, and Mathieu had more than an hour +before him to reach the Northern railway station. So he did not hurry, +but strolled very leisurely up the Boulevards. He had eaten and drunk far +more than usual, and Beauchêne's insidious confidential talk, still +buzzing in his ears, helped on his intoxication. His hands were hot, and +now and again a sudden glow passed over his face. And what a warm evening +it was, too, on those Boulevards, blazing with electric lights, fevered +by a swarming, jostling throng, amid a ceaseless rumble of cabs and +omnibuses! It was all like a stream of ardent life flowing away into the +night, and Mathieu allowed himself to be carried on by the torrent, whose +hot breath, whose glow of passion, he ever felt sweeping over him. +</p> +<p> +Then, in a reverie, he pictured the day he had just spent. First he was +at the Beauchênes' in the morning, and saw the father and mother +standing, like accomplices who fully shared one another's views, beside +the sofa on which Maurice, their only son, lay dozing with a pale and +waxen face. The works must never be exposed to the danger of being +subdivided. Maurice alone must inherit all the millions which the +business might yield, so that he might become one of the princes of +industry. And therefore the husband hurried off to sin while the wife +closed her eyes. In this sense, in defiance of morality and health, did +the capitalist <i>bourgeoisie</i>, which had replaced the old nobility, +virtually re-establish the law of primogeniture. That law had been +abolished at the Revolution for the <i>bourgeoisie's</i> benefit; but now, +also for its own purposes, it revived it. Each family must have but one +son. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu had reached this stage in his reflections when his thoughts were +diverted by several street hawkers who, in selling the last edition of an +evening print, announced a "drawing" of the lottery stock of some +enterprise launched by the Crédit National. And then he suddenly recalled +the Moranges in their dining-room, and heard them recapitulate their +dream of making a big fortune as soon as the accountant should have +secured a post in one of the big banking establishments, where the +principals raise men of value to the highest posts. Those Moranges lived +in everlasting dread of seeing their daughter marry a needy petty clerk; +succumbing to that irresistible fever which, in a democracy ravaged by +political equality and economic inequality, impels every one to climb +higher up the social ladder. Envy consumed them at the thought of the +luxury of others; they plunged into debt in order that they might imitate +from afar the elegance of the upper class, and all their natural honesty +and good nature was poisoned by the insanity born of ambitious pride. And +here again but one child was permissible, lest they should be +embarrassed, delayed, forever impeded in the attainment of the future +they coveted. +</p> +<p> +A crowd of people now barred Mathieu's way, and he perceived that he was +near the theatre, where a first performance was taking place that +evening. It was a theatre where free farcical pieces were produced, and +on its walls were posted huge portraits of its "star," a carroty wench +with a long flat figure, destitute of all womanliness, and seemingly +symbolical of perversity. Passers-by stopped to gaze at the bills, the +vilest remarks were heard, and Mathieu remembered that the Séguins and +Santerre were inside the house, laughing at the piece, which was of so +filthy a nature that the spectators at the dress rehearsal, though they +were by no means over-nice in such matters, had expressed their disgust +by almost wrecking the auditorium. And while the Séguins were gloating +over this horror, yonder, at their house in the Avenue d'Antin, Céleste +had just put the children, Gaston and Lucie, to bed, and had then hastily +returned to the kitchen, where a friend, Madame Menoux, who kept a little +haberdasher's shop in the neighborhood, awaited her. Gaston, having been +given some wine to drink, was already asleep; but Lucie, who again felt +sick, lay shivering in her bed, not daring to call Céleste, lest the +servant, who did not like to be disturbed, should ill-treat her. And, at +two o'clock in the morning, after offering Santerre an oyster supper at a +night restaurant, the Séguins would come home, their minds unhinged by +the imbecile literature and art to which they had taken for fashion's +sake, vitiated yet more by the ignoble performance they had witnessed, +and the base society they had elbowed at supper. They seemed to typify +vice for vice's sake, elegant vice and pessimism as a principle. +</p> +<p> +Indeed, when Mathieu tried to sum up his day, he found vice on every +side, in each of the spheres with which he had come in contact. And now +the examples he had witnessed filled him no longer with mere surprise; +they disturbed him, they shook his beliefs, they made him doubt whether +his notions of life, duty, and happiness might not after all be +inaccurate. +</p> +<p> +He stopped short and drew a long breath, seeking to drive away his +growing intoxication. He had passed the Grand Opera and was reaching the +crossway of the Rue Drouot. Perhaps his increase of fever was due to +those glowing Boulevards. The private rooms of the restaurants were still +ablaze, the cafés threw bright radiance across the road, the pavement was +blocked by their tables and chairs and customers. All Paris seemed to +have come down thither to enjoy that delightful evening. There was +endless elbowing, endless mingling of breath as the swelling crowd +sauntered along. Couples lingered before the sparkling displays of +jewellers' shops. Middle-class families swept under dazzling arches of +electric lamps into cafés concerts, whose huge posters promised the +grossest amusements. Hundreds and hundreds of women went by with trailing +skirts, and whispered and jested and laughed; while men darted in +pursuit, now of a fair chignon, now of a dark one. In the open cabs men +and women sat side by side, now husbands and wives long since married, +now chance couples who had met but an hour ago. But Mathieu went on +again, yielding to the force of the current, carried along like all the +others, a prey to the same fever which sprang from the surroundings, from +the excitement of the day, from the customs of the age. And he no longer +took the Beauchênes, the Moranges, the Séguins as isolated types; it was +all Paris that symbolized vice, all Paris that yielded to debauchery and +sank into degradation. There were the folks of high culture, the folks +suffering from literary neurosis; there were the merchant princes; there +were the men of liberal professions, the lawyers, the doctors, the +engineers; there were the people of the lower middle-class, the petty +tradesmen, the petty clerks; there were even the manual workers, poisoned +by the example of the upper spheres—all practising the doctrines of +egotism as vanity and the passion for money grew more and more +intense.... No more children! Paris was bent on dying. And Mathieu +recalled how Napoleon I., one evening after battle, on beholding a plain +strewn with the corpses of his soldiers, had put his trust in Paris to +repair the carnage of that day. But times had changed. Paris would no +longer supply life, whether it were for slaughter or for toil. +</p> +<p> +And as Mathieu thought of it all a sudden weakness came upon him. Again +he asked himself whether the Beauchênes, the Moranges, the Séguins, and +all those thousands and thousands around him were not right, and whether +he were not the fool, the dupe, the criminal, with his belief in life +ever renascent, ever growing and spreading throughout the world. And +before him arose, too, the image of Séraphine, the temptress, opening her +perfumed arms to him and carrying him off to the same existence of +pleasure and baseness which the others led. +</p> +<p> +Then he remembered the three hundred francs which he carried in his +pocket. Three hundred francs, which must last for a whole month, though +out of them he had to pay various little sums that he already owed. The +remainder would barely suffice to buy a ribbon for Marianne and jam for +the youngsters' bread. And if he set the Moranges on one side, the +others, the Beauchênes and the Séguins, were rich. He bitterly recalled +their wealth. He pictured the rumbling factory with its black buildings +covering a great stretch of ground; he pictured hundreds of workmen ever +increasing the fortune of their master, who dwelt in a handsomely +appointed pavilion and whose only son was growing up for future +sovereignty, under his mother's vigilant eyes. He pictured, too, the +Séguins' luxurious mansion in the Avenue d'Antin, the great hall, the +magnificent staircase, the vast room above, crowded with marvels; he +pictured all the refinement, all the train of wealth, all the tokens of +lavish life, the big dowry which would be given to the little girl, the +high position which would be purchased for the son. And he, bare and +empty-handed, who now possessed nothing, not even a stone at the edge of +a field, would doubtless always possess nothing, neither factory buzzing +with workmen, nor mansion rearing its proud front aloft. And he was the +imprudent one, and the others were the sensible, the wise. What would +ever become of himself and his troop of children? Would he not die in +some garret? would they not lead lives of abject wretchedness? Ah! it was +evident the others were right, the others were sensible. And he felt +unhinged, he regarded himself with contempt, like a fool who has allowed +himself to be duped. +</p> +<p> +Then once more the image of Séraphine arose before his eyes, more +tempting than ever. A slight quiver came upon him as he beheld the blaze +of the Northern railway station and all the feverish traffic around it. +Wild fancies surged through his brain. He thought of Beauchêne. Why +should he not do likewise? He recalled past times, and, yielding to +sudden madness, turned his back upon the station and retraced his steps +towards the Boulevards. Séraphine, he said to himself, was doubtless +waiting for him; she had told him that he would always be welcome. As for +his wife, he would tell her he had missed his train. +</p> +<p> +At last a block in the traffic made him pause, and on raising his eyes he +saw that he had reached the Boulevards once more. The crowd still +streamed along, but with increased feverishness. Mathieu's temples were +beating, and wild words escaped his lips. Why should he not live the same +life as the others? He was ready, even eager, to plunge into it. But the +block in the traffic continued, he could not cross the road; and while he +stood there hesitation and doubt came upon him. He saw in that increasing +obstruction a deliberate obstacle to his wild design. And all at once the +image of Séraphine faded from before his mind's eye and he beheld +another, his wife, his dear wife Marianne, awaiting him, all smiles and +trustfulness, in the fresh quietude of the country. Could he deceive +her?... Then all at once he again rushed off towards the railway +station, in fear lest he should lose his train. He was determined that he +would listen to no further promptings, that he would cast no further glance +upon glowing, dissolute Paris, and he reached the station just in time to +climb into a car. The train started and he journeyed on, leaning out of +his compartment and offering his face to the cool night breeze in order +that it might calm and carry off the evil fever that had possessed him. +</p> +<p> +The night was moonless, but studded with such pure and such glowing stars +that the country could be seen spreading far away beneath a soft bluish +radiance. Already at twenty minutes past eleven Marianne found herself on +the little bridge crossing the Yeuse, midway between Chantebled, the +pavilion where she and her husband lived, and the station of Janville. +The children were fast asleep; she had left them in the charge of Zoé, +the servant, who sat knitting beside a lamp, the light of which could be +seen from afar, showing like a bright spark amid the black line of the +woods. +</p> +<p> +Whenever Mathieu returned home by the seven o'clock train, as was his +wont, Marianne came to meet him at the bridge. Occasionally she brought +her two eldest boys, the twins, with her, though their little legs moved +but slowly on the return journey when, in retracing their steps, a +thousand yards or more, they had to climb a rather steep hillside. And +that evening, late though the hour was, Marianne had yielded to that +pleasant habit of hers, enjoying the delight of thus going forward +through the lovely night to meet the man she worshipped. She never went +further than the bridge which arched over the narrow river. She seated +herself on its broad, low parapet, as on some rustic bench, and thence +she overlooked the whole plain as far as the houses of Janville, before +which passed the railway line. And from afar she could see her husband +approaching along the road which wound between the cornfields. +</p> +<p> +That evening she took her usual seat under the broad velvety sky spangled +with gold. And with a movement which bespoke her solicitude she turned +towards the bright little light shining on the verge of the sombre woods, +a light telling of the quietude of the room in which it burnt, the +servant's tranquil vigil, and the happy slumber of the children in the +adjoining chamber. Then Marianne let her gaze wander all around her, over +the great estate of Chantebled, belonging to the Séguins. The dilapidated +pavilion stood at the extreme edge of the woods whose copses, intersected +by patches of heath, spread over a lofty plateau to the distant farms of +Mareuil and Lillebonne. But that was not all, for to the west of the +plateau lay more than two hundred and fifty acres of land, a marshy +expanse where pools stagnated amid brushwood, vast uncultivated tracts, +where one went duck-shooting in winter. And there was yet a third part of +the estate, acres upon acres of equally sterile soil, all sand and +gravel, descending in a gentle slope to the embankment of the railway +line. It was indeed a stretch of country lost to culture, where the few +good patches of loam remained unproductive, inclosed within the waste +land. But the spot had all the beauty and exquisite wildness of solitude, +and was one that appealed to healthy minds fond of seeing nature in +freedom. And on that lovely night one could nowhere have found more +perfect and more balmy quiet. +</p> +<p> +Marianne, who since coming to the district had already threaded the +woodland paths, explored the stretches of brushwood around the meres, and +descended the pebbly slopes, let her eyes travel slowly over the expanse, +divining spots she had visited and was fond of, though the darkness now +prevented her from seeing them. In the depths of the woods an owl raised +its soft, regular cry, while from a pond on the right ascended a faint +croaking of frogs, so far away that it sounded like the vibration of +crystal. And from the other side, the side of Paris, there came a growing +rumble which, little by little, rose above all the other sounds of the +night. She heard it, and at last lent ear to nothing else. It was the +train, for whose familiar roar she waited every evening. As soon as it +left Monval station on its way to Janville, it gave token of its coming, +but so faintly that only a practised ear could distinguish its rumble +amid the other sounds rising from the country side. For her part, she +heard it immediately, and thereupon followed it in fancy through every +phase of its journey. And never had she been better able to do so than on +that splendid night, amid the profound quietude of the earth's slumber. +It had left Monval, it was turning beside the brickworks, it was skirting +St. George's fields. In another two minutes it would be at Janville. Then +all at once its white light shone out beyond the poplar trees of Le +Mesnil Rouge, and the panting of the engine grew louder, like that of +some giant racer drawing near. On that side the plain spread far away +into a dark, unknown region, beneath the star-spangled sky, which on the +very horizon showed a ruddy reflection like that of some brasier, the +reflection of nocturnal Paris, blazing and smoking in the darkness like a +volcano. +</p> +<p> +Marianne sprang to her feet. The train stopped at Janville, and then its +rumble rose again, grew fainter, and died away in the direction of +Vieux-Bourg. But she no longer paid attention to it. She now had eyes and +ears only for the road which wound like a pale ribbon between the dark +patches of corn. Her husband did not take ten minutes to cover the +thousand yards and more which separated the station from the little +bridge. And, as a rule, she perceived and recognized him far off; but on +that particular night, such was the deep silence that she could +distinguish his footfall on the echoing road long before his dark, slim +figure showed against the pale ground. And he found her there, erect +under the stars, smiling and healthy, a picture of all that is good. The +milky whiteness of her skin was accentuated by her beautiful black hair, +caught up in a huge coil, and her big black eyes, which beamed with all +the gentleness of spouse and mother. Her straight brow, her nose, her +mouth, her chin so boldly, purely rounded, her cheeks which glowed like +savory fruit, her delightful little ears—the whole of her face, full +of love and tenderness, bespoke beauty in full health, the gayety which +comes from the accomplishment of duty, and the serene conviction that by +loving life she would live as she ought to live. +</p> +<p> +"What! so you've come then!" Mathieu exclaimed, as soon as he was near +her. "But I begged you not to come out so late. Are you not afraid at +being alone on the roads at this time of night?" +</p> +<p> +She began to laugh. "Afraid," said she, "when the night is so mild and +healthful? Besides, wouldn't you rather have me here to kiss you ten +minutes sooner?" +</p> +<p> +Those simple words brought tears to Mathieu's eyes. All the murkiness, +all the shame through which he had passed in Paris horrified him. He +tenderly took his wife in his arms, and they exchanged the closest, the +most human of kisses amid the quiet of the slumbering fields. After the +scorching pavement of Paris, after the eager struggling of the day and +the degrading spectacles of the night, how reposeful was that +far-spreading silence, that faint bluish radiance, that endless unrolling +of plains, steeped in refreshing gloom and dreaming of fructification by +the morrow's sun! And what suggestions of health, and rectitude, and +felicity rose from productive Nature, who fell asleep beneath the dew of +night solely that she might reawaken in triumph, ever and ever +rejuvenated by life's torrent, which streams even through the dust of her +paths. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu slowly seated Marianne on the low broad parapet once more. He +kept her near his heart; it was a halt full of affection, which neither +could forego, in presence of the universal peace that came to them from +the stars, and the waters, and the woods, and the endless fields. +</p> +<p> +"What a splendid night!" murmured Mathieu. "How beautiful and how +pleasant to live in it!" +</p> +<p> +Then, after a moment's rapture, during which they both heard their hearts +beating, he began to tell her of his day. She questioned him with loving +interest, and he answered, happy at having to tell her no lie. +</p> +<p> +"No, the Beauchênes cannot come here on Sunday. Constance never cared +much for us, as you well know. Their boy Maurice is suffering in the +legs; Dr. Boutan was there, and the question of children was discussed +again. I will tell you all about that. On the other hand, the Moranges +have promised to come. You can't have an idea of the delight and vanity +they displayed in showing me their new flat. What with their eagerness to +make a big fortune I'm much afraid that those worthy folks will do +something very foolish. Oh! I was forgetting. I called on the landlord, +and though I had a good deal of difficulty over it, he ended by +consenting to have the roof entirely relaid. Ah! what a home, too, those +Séguins have! I came away feeling quite scared. But I will tell you all +about it by and by with the rest." +</p> +<p> +Marianne evinced no loquacious curiosity; she quietly awaited his +confidences, and showed anxiety only respecting themselves and the +children. +</p> +<p> +"You received your salary, didn't you?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, yes, you need not be afraid about that." +</p> +<p> +"Oh! I'm not afraid, it's only our little debts which worry me." +</p> +<p> +Then she asked again: "And did your business dinner go off all right? I +was afraid that Beauchêne might detain you and make you miss your train." +</p> +<p> +He replied that everything had gone off properly, but as he spoke he +flushed and felt a pang at his heart. To rid himself of his emotion he +affected sudden gayety. +</p> +<p> +"Well, and you, my dear," he asked, "how did you manage with your thirty +sous?" +</p> +<p> +"My thirty sous!" she gayly responded, "why, I was much too rich; we +fared like princes, all five of us, and I have six sous left." +</p> +<p> +Then, in her turn, she gave an account of her day, her daily life, pure +as crystal. She recapitulated what she had done, what she had said; she +related how the children had behaved, and she entered into the minutest +details respecting them and the house. With her, moreover, one day was +like another; each morning she set herself to live the same life afresh, +with never-failing happiness. +</p> +<p> +"To-day, though, we had a visit," said she; "Madame Lepailleur, the woman +from the mill over yonder, came to tell me that she had some fine +chickens for sale. As we owe her twelve francs for eggs and milk, I +believe that she simply called to see if I meant to pay her. I told her +that I would go to her place to-morrow." +</p> +<p> +While speaking Marianne had pointed through the gloom towards a big black +pile, a little way down the Yeuse. It was an old water-mill which was +still worked, and the Lepailleurs had now been installed in it for three +generations. The last of them, François Lepailleur, who considered +himself to be no fool, had come back from his military service with +little inclination to work, and an idea that the mill would never enrich +him, any more than it had enriched his father and grandfather. It then +occurred to him to marry a peasant farmer's daughter, Victoire Cornu, +whose dowry consisted of some neighboring fields skirting the Yeuse. And +the young couple then lived fairly at their ease, on the produce of those +fields and such small quantities of corn as the peasants of the district +still brought to be ground at the old mill. If the antiquated and badly +repaired mechanism of the mill had been replaced by modern appliances, +and if the land, instead of being impoverished by adherence to +old-fashioned practices, had fallen into the hands of an intelligent man +who believed in progress, there would no doubt have been a fortune in it +all. But Lepailleur was not only disgusted with work, he treated the soil +with contempt. He indeed typified the peasant who has grown weary of his +eternal mistress, the mistress whom his forefathers loved too much. +Remembering that, in spite of all their efforts to fertilize the soil, it +had never made them rich or happy, he had ended by hating it. All his +faith in its powers had departed; he accused it of having lost its +fertility, of being used up and decrepit, like some old cow which one +sends to the slaughter-house. And, according to him, everything went +wrong: the soil simply devoured the seed sown in it, the weather was +never such as it should be, the seasons no longer came in their proper +order. Briefly, it was all a premeditated disaster brought about by some +evil power which had a spite against the peasantry, who were foolish to +give their sweat and their blood to such a thankless creature. +</p> +<p> +"Madame Lepailleur brought her boy with her, a little fellow three years +old, called Antonin," resumed Marianne, "and we fell to talking of +children together. She quite surprised me. Peasant folks, you know, used +to have such large families. But she declared that one child was quite +enough. Yet she's only twenty-four, and her husband not yet +twenty-seven." +</p> +<p> +These remarks revived the thoughts which had filled Mathieu's mind all +day. For a moment he remained silent. Then he said, "She gave you her +reasons, no doubt?" +</p> +<p> +"Give reasons—she, with her head like a horse's, her long freckled +face, pale eyes, and tight, miserly mouth—I think she's simply a +fool, ever in admiration before her husband because he fought in Africa +and reads the newspapers. All that I could get out of her was that +children cost one a good deal more than they bring in. But the husband, +no doubt, has ideas of his own. You have seen him, haven't you? A tall, +slim fellow, as carroty and as scraggy as his wife, with an angular +face, green eyes, and prominent cheekbones. He looks as though he had +never felt in a good humor in his life. And I understand that he is +always complaining of his father-in-law, because the other had three +daughters and a son. Of course that cut down his wife's dowry; she +inherited only a part of her father's property. And, besides, as the +trade of a miller never enriched his father, Lepailleur curses his mill +from morning till night, and declares that he won't prevent his boy +Antonin from going to eat white bread in Paris, if he can find a good +berth there when he grows up." +</p> +<p> +Thus, even among the country folks, Mathieu found a small family the +rule. Among the causes were the fear of having to split up an +inheritance, the desire to rise in the social system, the disgust of +manual toil, and the thirst for the luxuries of town life. Since the soil +was becoming bankrupt, why indeed continue tilling it, when one knew that +one would never grow rich by doing so? Mathieu was on the point of +explaining these things to his wife, but he hesitated, and then simply +said: "Lepailleur does wrong to complain; he has two cows and a horse, +and when there is urgent work he can take an assistant. We, this morning, +had just thirty sous belonging to us, and we own no mill, no scrap of +land. For my part I think his mill superb; I envy him every time I cross +this bridge. Just fancy! we two being the millers—why, we should be +very rich and very happy!" +</p> +<p> +This made them both laugh, and for another moment they remained seated +there, watching the dark massive mill beside the Yeuse. Between the +willows and poplars on both banks the little river flowed on peacefully, +scarce murmuring as it coursed among the water plants which made it +ripple. Then, amid a clump of oaks, appeared the big shed sheltering the +wheel, and the other buildings garlanded with ivy, honeysuckle, and +creepers, the whole forming a spot of romantic prettiness. And at night, +especially when the mill slept, without a light at any of its windows, +there was nothing of more dreamy, more gentle charm. +</p> +<p> +"Why!" remarked Mathieu, lowering his voice, "there is somebody under the +willows, beside the water. I heard a slight noise." +</p> +<p> +"Yes, I know," replied Marianne with tender gayety. "It must be the young +couple who settled themselves in the little house yonder a fortnight ago. +You know whom I mean—Madame Angelin, that schoolmate of Constance's." +</p> +<p> +The Angelins, who had become their neighbors, interested the Froments. +The wife was of the same age as Marianne, tall, dark, with fine hair and +fine eyes, radiant with continual joy, and fond of pleasure. And the +husband was of the same age as Mathieu, a handsome fellow, very much in +love, with moustaches waving in the wind, and the joyous spirits of a +musketeer. They had married with sudden passion for one another, having +between them an income of some ten thousand francs a year, which the +husband, a fan painter with a pretty talent, might have doubled had it +not been for the spirit of amorous idleness into which his marriage had +thrown him. And that spring-time they had sought a refuge in that desert +of Janville, that they might love freely, passionately, in the midst of +nature. They were always to be met, holding each other by the waist, on +the secluded paths in the woods; and at night they loved to stroll across +the fields, beside the hedges, along the shady banks of the Yeuse, +delighted when they could linger till very late near the murmuring water, +in the thick shade of the willows. +</p> +<p> +But there was quite another side to their idyl, and Marianne mentioned it +to her husband. She had chatted with Madame Angelin, and it appeared that +the latter wished to enjoy life, at all events for the present, and did +not desire to be burdened with children. Then Mathieu's worrying thoughts +once more came back to him, and again at this fresh example he wondered +who was right—he who stood alone in his belief, or all the others. +</p> +<p> +"Well," he muttered at last, "we all live according to our fancy. But +come, my dear, let us go in; we disturb them." +</p> +<p> +They slowly climbed the narrow road leading to Chantebled, where the lamp +shone out like a beacon. When Mathieu had bolted the front door they +groped their way upstairs. The ground floor of their little house +comprised a dining-room and a drawing-room on the right hand of the hall, +and a kitchen and a store place on the left. Upstairs there were four +bedrooms. Their scanty furniture seemed quite lost in those big rooms; +but, exempt from vanity as they were, they merely laughed at this. By way +of luxury they had simply hung some little curtains of red stuff at the +windows, and the ruddy reflection from these hangings seemed to them to +impart wonderfully rich cheerfulness to their home. +</p> +<p> +They found Zoé, their peasant servant, asleep over her knitting beside +the lamp in their own bedroom, and they had to wake her and send her as +quietly as possible to bed. Then Mathieu took up the lamp and entered the +children's room to kiss them and make sure that they were comfortable. It +was seldom they awoke on these occasions. Having placed the lamp on the +mantelshelf, he still stood there looking at the three little beds when +Marianne joined him. In the bed against the wall at one end of the room +lay Blaise and Denis, the twins, sturdy little fellows six years of age; +while in the second bed against the opposite wall was Ambroise, now +nearly four and quite a little cherub. And the third bed, a cradle, was +occupied by Mademoiselle Rose, fifteen months of age and weaned for three +weeks past. She lay there half naked, showing her white flowerlike skin, +and her mother had to cover her up with the bedclothes, which she had +thrust aside with her self-willed little fists. Meantime the father +busied himself with Ambroise's pillow, which had slipped aside. Both +husband and wife came and went very gently, and bent again and again over +the children's faces to make sure that they were sleeping peacefully. +They kissed them and lingered yet a little longer, fancying that they had +heard Blaise and Denis stirring. At last the mother took up the lamp and +they went off, one after the other, on tiptoe. +</p> +<p> +When they were in their room again Marianne exclaimed: "I didn't want to +worry you while we were out, but Rose made me feel anxious to-day; I did +not find her well, and it was only this evening that I felt more at ease +about her." Then, seeing that Mathieu started and turned pale, she went +on: "Oh! it was nothing. I should not have gone out if I had felt the +least fear for her. But with those little folks one is never free from +anxiety." +</p> +<p> +She then began to make her preparations for the night; but Mathieu, +instead of imitating her, sat down at the table where the lamp stood, and +drew the money paid to him by Morange from his pocket. When he had +counted those three hundred francs, those fifteen louis, he said in a +bitter, jesting way, "The money hasn't grown on the road. Here it is; you +can pay our debts to-morrow." +</p> +<p> +This remark gave him a fresh idea. Taking his pencil he began to jot down +the various amounts they owed on a blank page of his pocket diary. "We +say twelve francs to the Lepailleurs for eggs and milk. How much do you +owe the butcher?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"The butcher," replied Marianne, who had sat down to take off her shoes; +"well, say twenty francs." +</p> +<p> +"And the grocer and the baker?" +</p> +<p> +"I don't know exactly, but about thirty francs altogether. There is +nobody else." +</p> +<p> +Then Mathieu added up the items: "That makes sixty-two francs," said he. +"Take them away from three hundred, and we shall have two hundred and +thirty-eight left. Eight francs a day at the utmost. Well, we have a nice +month before us, with our four children to feed, particularly if little +Rose should fall ill." +</p> +<p> +The remark surprised his wife, who laughed gayly and confidently, saying: +"Why, what is the matter with you to-night, my dear? You seem to be +almost in despair, when as a rule you look forward to the morrow as full +of promise. You have often said that it was sufficient to love life if +one wished to live happily. As for me, you know, with you and the little +ones I feel the happiest, richest woman in the world!" +</p> +<p> +At this Mathieu could restrain himself no longer. He shook his head and +mournfully began to recapitulate the day he had just spent. At great +length he relieved his long-pent-up feelings. He spoke of their poverty +and the prosperity of others. He spoke of the Beauchênes, the Moranges, +the Séguins, the Lepailleurs, of all he had seen of them, of all they had +said, of all their scarcely disguised contempt for an improvident +starveling like himself. He, Mathieu, and she, Marianne, would never have +factory, nor mansion, nor mill, nor an income of twelve thousand francs a +year; and their increasing penury, as the others said, had been their own +work. They had certainly shown themselves imprudent, improvident. And he +went on with his recollections, telling Marianne that he feared nothing +for himself, but that he did not wish to condemn her and the little ones +to want and poverty. She was surprised at first, and by degrees became +colder, more constrained, as he told her all that he had upon his mind. +Tears slowly welled into her eyes; and at last, however lovingly he +spoke, she could no longer restrain herself, but burst into sobs. She did +not question what he said, she spoke no words of revolt, but it was +evident that her whole being rebelled, and that her heart was sorely +grieved. +</p> +<p> +He started, greatly troubled when he saw her tears. Something akin to her +own feelings came upon him. He was terribly distressed, angry with +himself. "Do not weep, my darling!" he exclaimed as he pressed her to +him: "it was stupid, brutal, and wrong of me to speak to you in that way. +Don't distress yourself, I beg you; we'll think it all over and talk +about it some other time." +</p> +<p> +She ceased to weep, but she continued silent, clinging to him, with her +head resting on his shoulder. And Mathieu, by the side of that loving, +trustful woman, all health and rectitude and purity, felt more and more +confused, more and more ashamed of himself, ashamed of having given heed +to the base, sordid, calculating principles which others made the basis +of their lives. He thought with loathing of the sudden frenzy which had +possessed him during the evening in Paris. Some poison must have been +instilled into his veins; he could not recognize himself. But honor and +rectitude, clear-sightedness and trustfulness in life were fast +returning. Through the window, which had remained open, all the sounds of +the lovely spring night poured into the room. It was spring, the season +of love, and beneath the palpitating stars in the broad heavens, from +fields and forests and waters came the murmur of germinating life. And +never had Mathieu more fully realized that, whatever loss may result, +whatever difficulty may arise, whatever fate may be in store, all the +creative powers of the world, whether of the animal order, whether of the +order of the plants, for ever and ever wage life's great incessant battle +against death. Man alone, dissolute and diseased among all the other +denizens of the world, all the healthful forces of nature, seeks death +for death's sake, the annihilation of his species. Then Mathieu again +caught his wife in a close embrace, printing on her lips a long, ardent +kiss. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! dear heart, forgive me; I doubted both of us. It would be impossible +for either of us to sleep unless you forgive me. Well, let the others +hold us in derision and contempt if they choose. Let us love and live as +nature tells us, for you are right: therein lies true wisdom and true +courage." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="V">V</a></h4> + +<p> +MATHIEU rose noiselessly from his little folding iron bedstead beside the +large one of mahogany, on which Marianne lay alone. He looked at her, and +saw that she was awake and smiling. +</p> +<p> +"What! you are not asleep?" said he. "I hardly dared to stir for fear of +waking you. It is nearly nine o'clock, you know." +</p> +<p> +It was Sunday morning. January had come round, and they were in Paris. +During the first fortnight in December the weather had proved frightful +at Chantebled, icy rains being followed by snow and terrible cold. This +rigorous temperature, coupled with the circumstance that Marianne was +again expecting to become a mother, had finally induced Mathieu to accept +Beauchêne's amiable offer to place at his disposal the little pavilion in +the Rue de la Fédération, where the founder of the works had lived before +building the superb house on the quay. An old foreman who had occupied +this pavilion, which still contained the simple furniture of former days, +had lately died. And the young folks, desiring to be near their friend, +worthy Dr. Boutan, had lived there for a month now, and did not intend to +return to Chantebled until the first fine days in April. +</p> +<p> +"Wait a moment," resumed Mathieu; "I will let the light in." +</p> +<p> +He thereupon drew back one of the curtains, and a broad ray of yellow, +wintry sunshine illumined the dim room. "Ah! there's the sun! And it's +splendid weather—and Sunday too! I shall be able to take you out for +a little while with the children this afternoon." +</p> +<p> +Then Marianne called him to her, and, when he had seated himself on the +bed, took hold of his hand and said gayly: "Well, I hadn't been sleeping +either for the last twenty minutes; and I didn't move because I wanted +you to lie in bed a little late, as it's Sunday. How amusing to think +that we were afraid of waking one another when we both had our eyes wide +open!" +</p> +<p> +"Oh!" said he, "I was so happy to think you were sleeping. My one delight +on Sundays now is to remain in this room all the morning, and spend the +whole day with you and the children." Then he uttered a cry of surprise +and remorse: "Why! I haven't kissed you yet." +</p> +<p> +She had raised herself on her pillows, and he gave her an eager clasp. In +the stream of bright sunshine which gilded the bed she herself looked +radiant with health and strength and hope. Never had her heavy brown +tresses flowed down more abundantly, never had her big eyes smiled with +gayer courage. And sturdy and healthful as she was, with her face all +kindliness and love, she looked like the very personification of +Fruitfulness, the good goddess with dazzling skin and perfect flesh, of +sovereign dignity. +</p> +<p> +They remained for a moment clasped together in the golden sunshine which +enveloped them with radiance. Then Mathieu pulled up Marianne's pillows, +set the counterpane in order, and forbade her to stir until he had tidied +the room. Forthwith he stripped his little bedstead, folded up the +sheets, the mattress, and the bedstead itself, over which he slipped a +cover. She vainly begged him not to trouble, saying that Zoé, the servant +whom they had brought from the country, could very well do all those +things. But he persisted, replying that the servant plagued him, and that +he preferred to be alone to attend her and do all that there was to do. +Then, as he suddenly began to shiver, he remarked that the room was cold, +and blamed himself for not having already lighted the fire. Some logs and +some small wood were piled in a corner, near the chimney-piece. +</p> +<p> +"How stupid of me!" he exclaimed; "here am I leaving you to freeze." +</p> +<p> +Then he knelt down before the fireplace, while she protested: "What an +idea! Leave all that, and call Zoé." +</p> +<p> +"No, no, she doesn't know how to light the fire properly, and besides, it +amuses me." +</p> +<p> +He laughed triumphantly when a bright clear fire began to crackle, +filling the room with additional cheerfulness. The place was now a little +paradise, said he; but he had scarcely finished washing and dressing when +the partition behind the bed was shaken by a vigorous thumping. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! the rascals," he gayly exclaimed. "They are awake, you see! Oh! +well, we may let them come, since to-day is Sunday." +</p> +<p> +For a few moments there had been a noise as of an aviary in commotion in +the adjoining room. Prattling, shrill chirping, and ringing bursts of +laughter could be heard. Then came a noise as of pillows and bolsters +flying about, while two little fists continued pummelling the partition +as if it were a drum. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, yes," said the mother, smiling and anxious, "answer them; tell them +to come. They will be breaking everything if you don't." +</p> +<p> +Thereupon the father himself struck the wall, at which a victorious +outburst, cries of triumphal delight, arose on the other side. And +Mathieu scarcely had time to open the door before tramping and scuffling +could be heard in the passage. A triumphal entry followed. All four of +them wore long nightdresses falling to their little bare feet, and they +trotted along and laughed, with their brown hair streaming about, their +faces quite pink, and their eyes radiant with candid delight. Ambroise, +though he was younger than his brothers, marched first, for he was the +boldest and most enterprising. Behind him came the twins, Blaise and +Denis, who were less turbulent—the latter especially. He taught the +others to read, while Blaise, who was rather shy and timid, remained the +dreamer of them all. And each gave a hand to little Mademoiselle Rose, +who looked like an angel, pulled now to the right and now to the left +amid bursts of laughter, while she contrived to keep herself steadily +erect. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! mamma," cried Ambroise, "it's dreadfully cold, you know; do make me +a little room." +</p> +<p> +Forthwith he bounded into the bed, slipped under the coverlet, and +nestled close to his mother, so that only his laughing face and fine +curly hair could be seen. But at this the two others raised a shout of +war, and rushed forward in their turn upon the besieged citadel. +</p> +<p> +"Make a little room for us, mamma, make a little room! By your back, +mamma! Near your shoulder, mamma!" +</p> +<p> +Only little Rose remained on the floor, feeling quite vexed and +indignant. She had vainly attempted the assault, but had fallen back. +"And me, mamma, and me," she pleaded. +</p> +<p> +It was necessary to help her in her endeavors to hoist herself up with +her little hands. Then her mother took her in her arms in order that she +might have the best place of all. Mathieu had at first felt somewhat +anxious at seeing Marianne thus disturbed, but she laughed and told him +not to trouble. And then the picture they all presented as they nestled +there was so charming, so full of gayety, that he also smiled. +</p> +<p> +"It's very nice, it's so warm," said Ambroise, who was fond of taking his +ease. +</p> +<p> +But Denis, the reasonable member of the band, began to explain why it was +they had made so much noise "Blaise said that he had seen a spider. And +then he felt frightened." +</p> +<p> +This accusation of cowardice vexed his brother, who replied: "It isn't +true. I did see a spider, but I threw my pillow at it to kill it." +</p> +<p> +"So did I! so did I!" stammered Rose, again laughing wildly. "I threw my +pillow like that—houp! houp!" +</p> +<p> +They all roared and wriggled again, so amusing did it seem to them. The +truth was that they had engaged in a pillow fight under pretence of +killing a spider, which Blaise alone said that he had seen. This +unsupported testimony left the matter rather doubtful. But the whole +brood looked so healthful and fresh in the bright sunshine that their +father could not resist taking them in his arms, and kissing them here +and there, wherever his lips lighted, a final game which sent them into +perfect rapture amid a fresh explosion of laughter and shouts. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! what fun! what fun!" +</p> +<p> +"All the same," Marianne exclaimed, as she succeeded in freeing herself +somewhat from the embraces of the children, "all the same, you know, I +want to get up. I mustn't idle, for it does me no good. And besides, you +little ones need to be washed and dressed." +</p> +<p> +They dressed in front of the big blazing fire; and it was nearly ten +o'clock when they at last went down into the dining-room, where the +earthenware stove was roaring, while the warm breakfast milk steamed upon +the table. The ground floor of the pavilion comprised a dining-room and a +drawing-room on the right of the hall, and a kitchen and a study on the +left. The dining-room, like the principal bedchamber, overlooked the Rue +de la Fédération, and was filled every morning with cheerfulness by the +rising sun. +</p> +<p> +The children were already at table, with their noses in their cups, when +a ring at the street door was heard. And it was Dr. Boutan who came in. +His arrival brought a renewal of noisy mirth, for the youngsters were +fond of his round, good-natured face. He had attended them all at their +births, and treated them like an old friend, with whom familiarity is +allowable. And so they were already thrusting back their chairs to dart +towards the doctor, when a remark from their mother restrained them. +</p> +<p> +"Now, please just leave the doctor quiet," said she, adding gayly, "Good +morning, doctor. I'm much obliged to you for this bright sunshine, for +I'm sure you ordered it so that I might go for a walk this afternoon." +</p> +<p> +"Why, yes, of course I ordered it—I was passing this way, and +thought I would look in to see how you were getting on." +</p> +<p> +Boutan took a chair and seated himself near the table, while Mathieu +explained to him that they had remained late in bed. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, that is all right, let her rest: but she must also take as much +exercise as possible. However, there is no cause to worry. I see that she +has a good appetite. When I find my patients at table, I cease to be a +doctor, you know, I am simply a friend making a call." +</p> +<p> +Then he put a few questions, which the children, who were busy +breakfasting, did not hear. And afterwards there came a pause in the +conversation, which the doctor himself resumed, following, no doubt, some +train of thought which he did not explain: "I hear that you are to lunch +with the Séguins next Thursday," said he. "Ah! poor little woman! That is +a terrible affair of hers." +</p> +<p> +With a gesture he expressed his feelings concerning the drama that had +just upset the Séguins' household. Valentine, like Marianne, was to +become a mother. For her part she was in despair at it, and her husband +had given way to jealous fury. For a time, amid all their quarrels, they +had continued leading their usual life of pleasure, but she now spent her +days on a couch, while he neglected her and reverted to a bachelor's +life. It was a very painful story, but the doctor was in hopes that +Marianne, on the occasion of her visit to the Séguins, might bring some +good influence to bear on them. +</p> +<p> +He rose from his chair and was about to retire, when the attack which had +all along threatened him burst forth. The children, unsuspectedly rising +from their chairs, had concerted together with a glance, and now they +opened their campaign. The worthy doctor all at once found the twins upon +his shoulders, while the younger boy clasped him round the waist and the +little girl clung to his legs. +</p> +<p> +"Puff! puff! do the railway train, do the railway train, please do." +</p> +<p> +They pushed and shook him, amid peal after peal of flute-like laughter, +while their father and mother rushed to his assistance, scolding and +angry. But he calmed the parents by saying: "Let them be! they are simply +wishing me good day. And besides, I must bear with them, you know, since, +as our friend Beauchêne says, it is a little bit my fault if they are in +the world. What charms me with your children is that they enjoy such good +health, just like their mother. For the present, at all events, one can +ask nothing more of them." +</p> +<p> +When he had set them down on the floor, and given each a smacking kiss, +he took hold of Marianne's hands and said to her that everything was +going on beautifully, and that he was very pleased. Then he went off, +escorted to the front door by Mathieu, the pair of them jesting and +laughing gayly. +</p> +<p> +Directly after the midday meal Mathieu wished to go out, in order that +Marianne might profit by the bright sunshine. The children had been +dressed in readiness before sitting down to table, and it was scarcely +more than one o'clock when the family turned the corner of the Rue de la +Fédération and found itself upon the quays. +</p> +<p> +This portion of Grenelle, lying between the Champ de Mars and the densely +populated streets of the centre of the district, has an aspect all its +own, characterized by vast bare expanses, and long and almost deserted +streets running at right angles and fringed by factories with lofty, +interminable gray walls. During work-hours nobody passes along these +streets, and on raising one's head one sees only lofty chimneys belching +forth thick coal smoke above the roofs of big buildings with dusty window +panes. And if any large cart entrance happens to be open one may espy +deep yards crowded with drays and full of acrid vapor. The only sounds +are the strident puffs of jets of steam, the dull rumbling of machinery, +and the sudden rattle of ironwork lowered from the carts to the pavement. +But on Sundays the factories do not work, and the district then falls +into death-like silence. In summer time there is but bright sunshine +heating the pavement, in winter some icy snow-laden wind rushing down the +lonely streets. The population of Grenelle is said to be the worst of +Paris, both the most vicious and the most wretched. The neighborhood of +the École Militaire attracts thither a swarm of worthless women, who +bring in their train all the scum of the populace. In contrast to all +this the gay <i>bourgeois</i> district of Passy rises up across the Seine; +while the rich aristocratic quarters of the Invalides and the Faubourg St. +Germain spread out close by. Thus the Beauchêne works on the quay, as +their owner laughingly said, turned their back upon misery and looked +towards all the prosperity and gayety of this world. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu was very partial to the avenues, planted with fine trees, which +radiate from the Champ de Mars and the Esplanade des Invalides, supplying +great gaps for air and sunlight. But he was particularly fond of that +long diversified Quai d'Orsay, which starts from the Rue du Bac in the +very centre of the city, passes before the Palais Bourbon, crosses first +the Esplanade des Invalides, and then the Champ de Mars, to end at the +Boulevard de Grenelle, in the black factory region. How majestically it +spread out, what fine old leafy trees there were round that bend of the +Seine from the State Tobacco Works to the garden of the Eiffel Tower! The +river winds along with sovereign gracefulness; the avenue stretches out +under superb foliage. You can really saunter there amid delicious +quietude, instinct as it were with all the charm and power of Paris. +</p> +<p> +It was thither that Mathieu wished to take his wife and the little ones +that Sunday. But the distance was considerable, and some anxiety was felt +respecting Rose's little legs. She was intrusted to Ambroise, who, +although the youngest of the boys, was already energetic and determined. +These two opened the march; then came Blaise and Denis, the twins, the +parents bringing up the rear. Everything at first went remarkably well: +they strolled on slowly in the gay sunshine. That beautiful winter +afternoon was exquisitely pure and clear, and though it was very cold in +the shade, all seemed golden and velvety in the stretches of bright light. +There were a great many people out of doors—all the idle folks, +clad in their Sunday best, whom the faintest sunshine draws in crowds to +the promenades of Paris. Little Rose, feeling warm and gay, drew herself +up as if to show the people that she was a big girl. She crossed the +whole extent of the Champ de Mars without asking to be carried. And her +three brothers strode along making the frozen pavement resound beneath +their steps. Promenaders were ever turning round to watch them. In other +cities of Europe the sight of a young married couple preceded by four +children would have excited no comment, but here in Paris the spectacle +was so unusual that remarks of astonishment, sarcasm, and even compassion +were exchanged. Mathieu and Marianne divined, even if they did not +actually hear, these comments, but they cared nothing for them. They +bravely went their way, smiling at one another, and feeling convinced +that the course they had taken in life was the right one, whatever other +folks might think or say. +</p> +<p> +It was three o'clock when they turned their steps homeward; and Marianne, +feeling rather tired, then took a little rest on a sofa in the +drawing-room, where Zoé had previously lighted a good fire. The children, +quieted by fatigue, were sitting round a little table, listening to a +tale which Denis read from a story-book, when a visitor was announced. +This proved to be Constance, who, after driving out with Maurice, had +thought of calling to inquire after Marianne, whom she saw only once or +twice a week, although the little pavilion was merely separated by a +garden from the large house on the quay. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! are you poorly, my dear?" she inquired as she entered the room and +perceived Marianne on the sofa. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! dear, no," replied the other, "but I have been out walking for the +last two hours and am now taking some rest." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu had brought an armchair forward for his wife's rich, vain cousin, +who, whatever her real feelings, certainly strove to appear amiable. She +apologized for not being able to call more frequently, and explained what +a number of duties she had to discharge as mistress of her home. Meantime +Maurice, clad in black velvet, hung round her petticoats, gazing from a +distance at the other children, who one and all returned his scrutiny. +</p> +<p> +"Well, Maurice," exclaimed his mother, "don't you wish your little +cousins good-day?" +</p> +<p> +He had to do as he was bidden and step towards them. But all five +remained embarrassed. They seldom met, and had as yet had no opportunity +to quarrel. The four little savages of Chantebled felt indeed almost out +of their element in the presence of this young Parisian with +<i>bourgeois</i> manners. +</p> +<p> +"And are all your little folks quite well?" resumed Constance, who, with +her sharp eyes, was comparing her son with the other lads. "Ambroise has +grown; his elder brothers also look very strong." +</p> +<p> +Her examination did not apparently result to Maurice's advantage. The +latter was tall and looked sturdy, but he had quite a waxen complexion. +Nevertheless, the glance that Constance gave the others was full of +irony, disdain, and condemnation. When she had first heard that Marianne +was likely to become a mother once more she had made no secret of her +disapproval. She held to her old opinions more vigorously than ever. +</p> +<p> +Marianne, knowing full well that they would fall out if they discussed +the subject of children, sought another topic of conversation. She +inquired after Beauchêne. "And Alexandre," said she, "why did you not +bring him with you? I haven't seen him for a week!" +</p> +<p> +"Why," broke in Mathieu, "I told you he had gone shooting yesterday +evening. He slept, no doubt, at Puymoreau, the other side of Chantebled, +so as to be in the woods at daybreak this morning, and he probably won't +be home till to-morrow." +</p> +<p> +"Ah! yes, I remember now. Well, it's nice weather to be in the woods." +</p> +<p> +This, however, was another perilous subject, and Marianne regretted +having broached it, for, truth to tell, one never knew where Beauchêne +might really be when he claimed to have gone shooting. He availed himself +so often of this pretext to absent himself from home that Constance was +doubtless aware of the truth. But in the presence of that household, +whose union was so perfect, she was determined to show a brave front. +</p> +<p> +"Well, you know," said she, "it is I who compel him to go about and take +as much exercise as possible. He has a temperament that needs the open +air. Shooting is very good for him." +</p> +<p> +At this same moment there came another ring at the door, announcing +another visitor. And this time it was Madame Morange who entered the +room, with her daughter Reine. She colored when she caught sight of +Madame Beauchêne, so keenly was she impressed by that perfect model of +wealth and distinction, whom she ever strove to imitate. Constance, +however, profited by the diversion of Valérie's arrival to declare that +she unfortunately could not remain any longer, as a friend must now be +waiting for her at home. +</p> +<p> +"Well, at all events, leave us Maurice," suggested Mathieu. "Here's Reine +here now, and all six children can play a little while together. I will +bring you the boy by and by, when he has had a little snack." +</p> +<p> +But Maurice had already once more sought refuge among his mother's +skirts. And she refused the invitation. "Oh! no, no!" said she. "He has +to keep to a certain diet, you know, and he must not eat anything away +from home. Good-by; I must be off. I called only to inquire after you all +in passing. Keep well; good-by." +</p> +<p> +Then she led her boy away, never speaking to Valérie, but simply shaking +hands with her in a familiar, protecting fashion, which the other +considered to be extremely distinguished. Reine, on her side, had smiled +at Maurice, whom she already slightly knew. She looked delightful that +day in her gown of thick blue cloth, her face smiling under her heavy +black tresses, and showing such a likeness to her mother that she seemed +to be the latter's younger sister. +</p> +<p> +Marianne, quite charmed, called the girl to her: "Come and kiss me, my +dear! Oh! what a pretty young lady! Why, she is getting quite beautiful +and tall. How old is she?" +</p> +<p> +"Nearly thirteen," Valérie replied. +</p> +<p> +She had seated herself in the armchair vacated by Constance, and Mathieu +noticed what a keen expression of anxiety there was in her soft eyes. +After mentioning that she also had called in passing to make inquiries, +and declaring that both mother and children looked remarkably well, she +relapsed into gloomy silence, scarcely listening to Marianne, who thanked +her for having come. Thereupon it occurred to Mathieu to leave her with +his wife. To him it seemed that she must have something on her mind, and +perhaps she wished to make a <i>confidante</i> of Marianne. +</p> +<p> +"My dear Reine," said he, "come with these little ones into the +dining-room. We will see what afternoon snack there is, and lay the +cloth." +</p> +<p> +This proposal was greeted with shouts of delight, and all the children +trooped into the dining-room with Mathieu. A quarter of an hour later, +when everything was ready there, and Valérie came in, the latter's eyes +looked very red, as if she had been weeping. And that evening, when +Mathieu was alone with his wife, he learnt what the trouble was. +Morange's scheme of leaving the Beauchêne works and entering the service +of the Crédit National, where he would speedily rise to a high and +lucrative position, his hope too of giving Reine a big dowry and marrying +her off to advantage—all the ambitious dreams of rank and wealth in +which his wife and he had indulged, now showed no likelihood of +fulfilment, since it seemed probable that Valérie might again have a +child. Both she and her husband were in despair over it, and though +Marianne had done her utmost to pacify her friend and reconcile her to +circumstances, there were reasons to fear that in her distracted +condition she might do something desperate. +</p> +<p> +Four days later, when the Froments lunched with the Séguins du Hordel at +the luxurious mansion in the Avenue d'Antin, they came upon similar +trouble there. Séguin, who was positively enraged, did not scruple to +accuse his wife of infidelity, and, on his side, he took to quite a +bachelor life. He had been a gambler in his younger days, and had never +fully cured himself of that passion, which now broke out afresh, like a +fire which has only slumbered for a time. He spent night after night at +his club, playing at baccarat, and could be met in the betting ring at +every race meeting. Then, too, he glided into equivocal society and +appeared at home only at intervals to vent his irritation and spite and +jealousy upon his ailing wife. +</p> +<p> +She, poor woman, was absolutely guiltless of the charges preferred +against her. But knowing her husband, and unwilling for her own part to +give up her life of pleasure, she had practised concealment as long as +possible. And now she was really very ill, haunted too by an unreasoning, +irremovable fear that it would all end in her death. Mathieu, who had +seen her but a few months previously looking so fair and fresh, was +amazed to find her such a wreck. And on her side Valentine gazed, all +astonishment, at Marianne, noticing with surprise how calm and strong the +young woman seemed, and how limpid her clear and smiling eyes remained. +</p> +<p> +On the day of the Froments' visit Séguin had gone out early in the +morning, and when they arrived he had not yet returned. Thus the lunch +was for a short time kept waiting, and during the interval Céleste, the +maid, entered the room where the visitors sat near her mistress, who was +stretched upon a sofa, looking a perfect picture of distress. Valentine +turned a questioning glance on the servant, who forthwith replied: +</p> +<p> +"No, madame, Monsieur has not come back yet. But that woman of my village +is here. You know, madame, the woman I spoke to you about, Sophie +Couteau, La Couteau as we call her at Rougemont, who brings nurses to +Paris?" +</p> +<p> +"Well, what of it?" exclaimed Valentine, on the point of ordering Céleste +to leave the room, for it seemed to her quite outrageous to be disturbed +in this manner. +</p> +<p> +"Well, madame, she's here; and as I told you before, if you would intrust +her with the matter now she would find a very good wet nurse for you in +the country, and bring her here whenever she's wanted." +</p> +<p> +La Couteau had been standing behind the door, which had remained ajar, +and scarcely had Céleste finished than, without waiting for an +invitation, she boldly entered the room. She was a quick little wizened +woman, with certain peasant ways, but considerably polished by her +frequent journeys to Paris. So far as her small keen eyes and pointed +nose went her long face was not unpleasant, but its expression of good +nature was marred by her hard mouth, her thin lips, suggestive of +artfulness and cupidity. Her gown of dark woollen stuff, her black cape, +black mittens, and black cap with yellow ribbons, gave her the appearance +of a respectable countrywoman going to mass in her Sunday best. +</p> +<p> +"Have you been a nurse?" Valentine inquired, as she scrutinized her. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, madame," replied La Couteau, "but that was ten years ago, when I +was only twenty. It seemed to me that I wasn't likely to make much money +by remaining a nurse, and so I preferred to set up as an agent to bring +others to Paris." +</p> +<p> +As she spoke she smiled, like an intelligent woman who feels that those +who give their services as wet nurses to <i>bourgeois</i> families are +simply fools and dupes. However, she feared that she might have said too +much on the point, and so she added: "But one does what one can, eh, +madame? The doctor told me that I should never do for a nurse again, and +so I thought that I might perhaps help the poor little dears in another +manner." +</p> +<p> +"And you bring wet nurses to the Paris offices?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, madame, twice a month. I supply several offices, but more +particularly Madame Broquette's office in the Rue Roquépine. It's a +very respectable place, where one runs no risk of being +deceived—And so, if you like, madame, I will choose the very best +I can find for you—the pick of the bunch, so to say. I know the +business thoroughly, and you can rely on me." +</p> +<p> +As her mistress did not immediately reply, Céleste ventured to intervene, +and began by explaining how it happened that La Couteau had called that +day. +</p> +<p> +"When she goes back into the country, madame, she almost always takes a +baby with her, sometimes a nurse's child, and sometimes the child of +people who are not well enough off to keep a nurse in the house. And she +takes these children to some of the rearers in the country. She just now +came to see me before going round to my friend Madame Menoux, whose baby +she is to take away with her." +</p> +<p> +Valentine became interested. This Madame Menoux was a haberdasher in the +neighborhood and a great friend of Céleste's. She had married a former +soldier, a tall handsome fellow, who now earned a hundred and fifty +francs a month as an attendant at a museum. She was very fond of him, and +had bravely set up a little shop, the profits from which doubled their +income, in such wise that they lived very happily and almost at their +ease. Céleste, who frequently absented herself from her duties to spend +hours gossiping in Madame Menoux's little shop, was forever being scolded +for this practice; but in the present instance Valentine, full of anxiety +and curiosity, did not chide her. The maid was quite proud at being +questioned, and informed her mistress that Madame Menoux's baby was a +fine little boy, and that the mother had been attended by a certain +Madame Rouche, who lived at the lower end of the Rue du Rocher. +</p> +<p> +"It was I who recommended her," continued the servant, "for a friend of +mine whom she had attended had spoken to me very highly of her. No doubt +she has not such a good position as Madame Bourdieu, who has so handsome +a place in the Rue de Miromesnil, but she is less expensive, and so very +kind and obliging." +</p> +<p> +Then Céleste suddenly ceased speaking, for she noticed that Mathieu's +eyes were fixed upon her, and this, for reasons best known to herself, +made her feel uncomfortable. He on his side certainly placed no +confidence in this big dark girl with a head like that of a horse, who, +it seemed to him, knew far too much. +</p> +<p> +Marianne joined in the conversation. "But why," asked she, "why does not +this Madame Menoux, whom you speak about, keep her baby with her?" +</p> +<p> +Thereupon La Couteau turned a dark harsh glance upon this lady visitor, +who, whatever course she might take herself, had certainly no right to +prevent others from doing business. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! it's impossible," exclaimed Céleste, well pleased with the +diversion. "Madame Menoux's shop is no bigger than my pocket-handkerchief, +and at the back of it there is only one little room where she +and her husband take their meals and sleep. And that room, too, +overlooks a tiny courtyard where one can neither see nor breathe. The +baby would not live a week in such a place. And, besides, Madame Menoux +would not have time to attend to the child. She has never had a servant, +and what with waiting on customers and having to cook meals in time for +her husband's return from the museum, she never has a moment to spare. +Oh! if she could, she would be very happy to keep the little fellow with +her." +</p> +<p> +"It is true," said Marianne sadly; "there are some poor mothers whom I +pity with all my heart. This person you speak of is not in poverty, and +yet is reduced to this cruel separation. For my part, I should not be +able to exist if a child of mine were taken away from me to some unknown +spot and given to another woman." +</p> +<p> +La Couteau doubtless interpreted this as an attack upon herself. Assuming +the kindly demeanor of one who dotes on children, the air which she +always put on to prevail over hesitating mothers, she replied: "Oh, +Rougemont is such a very pretty place. And then it's not far from Bayeux, +so that folks are by no means savages there. The air is so pure, too, +that people come there to recruit their health. And, besides, the little +ones who are confided to us are well cared for, I assure you. One would +have to be heartless to do otherwise than love such little angels." +</p> +<p> +However, like Céleste, she relapsed into silence on seeing how +significantly Mathieu was looking at her. Perhaps, in spite of her rustic +ways, she understood that there was a false ring in her voice. Besides, +of what use was her usual patter about the salubrity of the region, since +that lady, Madame Séguin, wished to have a nurse at her house? So she +resumed: "Then it's understood, madame, I will bring you the best we +have, a real treasure." +</p> +<p> +Valentine, now a little tranquillized as to her fears for herself, found +strength to speak out. "No, no, I won't pledge myself in advance. I will +send to see the nurses you bring to the office, and we shall see if there +is one to suit me." +</p> +<p> +Then, without occupying herself further about the woman, she turned to +Marianne, and asked: "Shall you nurse your baby yourself?" +</p> +<p> +"Certainly, as I did with the others. We have very decided opinions on +that point, my husband and I." +</p> +<p> +"No doubt. I understand you: I should much like to do the same myself; +but it is impossible." +</p> +<p> +La Couteau had remained there motionless, vexed at having come on a +fruitless errand, and regretting the loss of the present which she would +have earned by her obligingness in providing a nurse. She put all her +spite into a glance which she shot at Marianne, who, thought she, was +evidently some poor creature unable even to afford a nurse. However, at a +sign which Céleste made her, she courtesied humbly and withdrew in the +company of the maid. +</p> +<p> +A few minutes afterwards, Séguin arrived, and, repairing to the +dining-room, they all sat down to lunch there. It was a very luxurious +meal, comprising eggs, red mullet, game, and crawfish, with red and white +Bordeaux wines and iced champagne. Such diet for Valentine and Marianne +would never have met with Dr. Boutan's approval; but Séguin declared the +doctor to be an unbearable individual whom nobody could ever please. +</p> +<p> +He, Séguin, while showing all politeness to his guests, seemed that day +to be in an execrable temper. Again and again he levelled annoying and +even galling remarks at his wife, carrying things to such a point at +times that tears came to the unfortunate woman's eyes. Now that he +scarcely set foot in the house he complained that everything was going +wrong there. If he spent his time elsewhere it was, according to him, +entirely his wife's fault. The place was becoming a perfect hell upon +earth. And in everything, the slightest incident, the most common-place +remark, he found an opportunity for jeers and gibes. These made Mathieu +and Marianne extremely uncomfortable; but at last he let fall such a +harsh expression that Valentine indignantly rebelled, and he had to +apologize. At heart he feared her, especially when the blood of the +Vaugelades arose within her, and she gave him to understand, in her +haughty disdainful way, that she would some day revenge herself on him +for his treatment. +</p> +<p> +However, seeking another outlet for his spite and rancor, he at last +turned to Mathieu, and spoke of Chantebled, saying bitterly that the game +in the covers there was fast becoming scarcer and scarcer, in such wise +that he now had difficulty in selling his shooting shares, so that his +income from the property was dwindling every year. He made no secret of +the fact that he would much like to sell the estate, but where could he +possibly find a purchaser for those unproductive woods, those sterile +plains, those marshes and those tracts of gravel? +</p> +<p> +Mathieu listened to all this attentively, for during his long walks in +the summer he had begun to take an interest in the estate. "Are you +really of opinion that it cannot be cultivated?" he asked. "It's pitiful +to see all that land lying waste and idle." +</p> +<p> +"Cultivate it!" cried Séguin. "Ah! I should like to see such a miracle! +The only crops that one will ever raise on it are stones and frogs." +</p> +<p> +They had by this time eaten their dessert, and before rising from table +Marianne was telling Valentine that she would much like to see and kiss +her children, who had not been allowed to lunch with their elders on +account of their supposed unruly ways, when a couple of visitors arrived +in turn, and everything else was forgotten. One was Santerre the +novelist, who of late had seldom called on the Séguins, and the other, +much to Mathieu's dislike, proved to be Beauchêne's sister, Séraphine, +the Baroness de Lowicz. She looked at the young man in a bold, provoking, +significant manner, and then, like Santerre, cast a sly glance of mocking +contempt at Marianne and Valentine. She and the novelist between them +soon turned the conversation on to subjects that appealed to their +vicious tastes. And Santerre related that he had lately seen Doctor Gaude +perform several operations at the Marbeuf Hospital. He had found there +the usual set of society men who attend first performances at the +theatres, and indeed there were also some women present. +</p> +<p> +And then he enlarged upon the subject, giving the crudest and most +precise particulars, much to the delight of Séguin, who every now and +again interpolated remarks of approval, while both Mathieu and Marianne +grew more and more ill at ease. The young woman sat looking with +amazement at Santerre as he calmly recapitulated horror after horror, to +the evident enjoyment of the others. She remembered having read his last +book, that love story which had seemed to her so supremely absurd, with +its theories of the annihilation of the human species. And she at last +glanced at Mathieu to tell him how weary she felt of all the semi-society +and semi-medical chatter around her, and how much she would like to go +off home, leaning on his arm, and walking slowly along the sunlit quays. +He, for his part, felt a pang at seeing so much insanity rife amid those +wealthy surroundings. He made his wife a sign that it was indeed time to +take leave. +</p> +<p> +"What! are you going already!" Valentine then exclaimed. "Well, I dare +not detain you if you feel tired." However, when Marianne begged her to +kiss the children for her, she added: "Why, yes, it's true you have not +seen them. Wait a moment, pray; I want you to kiss them yourself." +</p> +<p> +But when Céleste appeared in answer to the bell, she announced that +Monsieur Gaston and Mademoiselle Lucie had gone out with their governess. +And this made Séguin explode once more. All his rancor against his wife +revived. The house was going to rack and ruin. She spent her days lying +on a sofa. Since when had the governess taken leave to go out with the +children without saying anything? One could not even see the children now +in order to kiss them. It was a nice state of things. They were left to +the servants; in fact, it was the servants now who controlled the house. +</p> +<p> +Thereupon Valentine began to cry. +</p> +<p> +"<i>Mon Dieu</i>!" said Marianne to her husband, when she found herself +out of doors, able to breathe, and happy once more now that she was +leaning on his arm; "why, they are quite mad, the people in that house." +</p> +<p> +"Yes," Mathieu responded, "they are mad, no doubt; but we must pity them, +for they know not what happiness is." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="VI">VI</a></h4> + +<p> +ABOUT nine o'clock one fine cold morning, a few days afterwards, as +Mathieu, bound for his office, a little late through having lingered near +his wife, was striding hastily across the garden which separated the +pavilion from the factory yard, he met Constance and Maurice, who, clad +in furs, were going out for a walk in the sharp air. Beauchêne, who was +accompanying them as far as the gate, bareheaded and ever sturdy and +victorious, gayly exclaimed to his wife: +</p> +<p> +"Give the youngster a good spin on his legs! Let him take in all the +fresh air he can. There's nothing like that and good food to make a man." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu, on hearing this, stopped short. "Has Maurice been poorly again?" +he inquired. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, no!" hastily replied the boy's mother, with an appearance of great +gayety, assumed perhaps from an unconscious desire to hide certain covert +fears. "Only the doctor wants him to take exercise, and it is so fine +this morning that we are going off on quite an expedition." +</p> +<p> +"Don't go along the quays," said Beauchêne again. "Go up towards the +Invalides. He'll have much stiffer marching to do when he's a soldier." +</p> +<p> +Then, the mother and the child having taken themselves off, he went back +into the works with Mathieu, adding in his triumphant way: "That +youngster, you know, is as strong as an oak. But women are always so +nervous. For my part, I'm quite easy in mind about him, as you can see." +And with a laugh he concluded: "When one has but one son, he keeps him." +</p> +<p> +That same day, about an hour later, a terrible dispute which broke out +between old Moineaud's daughters, Norine and Euphrasie, threw the factory +into a state of commotion. Norine's intrigue with Beauchêne had ended in +the usual way. He had soon tired of the girl and betaken himself to some +other passing fancy, leaving her to her tears, her shame, and all the +consequences of her fault; for although it had hitherto been possible for +her to conceal her condition from her parents, she was unable to deceive +her sister, who was her constant companion. The two girls were always +bickering, and Norine had for some time lived in dread of scandal and +exposure. And that day the trouble came to a climax, beginning with a +trivial dispute about a bit of glass-paper in the workroom, then +developing into a furious exchange of coarse, insulting language, and +culminating in a frantic outburst from Euphrasie, who shrieked to the +assembled work-girls all that she knew about her sister. +</p> +<p> +There was an outrageous scene: the sisters fought, clawing and scratching +one another desperately, and could not be separated until Beauchêne, +Mathieu, and Morange, attracted by the extraordinary uproar, rushed into +the workroom and restored a little order. Fortunately for Beauchêne, +Euphrasie did not know the whole truth, and Norine, after giving her +employer a humble, supplicating glance, kept silence; but old Moineaud +was present, and the public revelation of his daughter's shame sent him +into a fury. He ordered Norine out of the works forthwith, and threatened +to throw her out of window should he find her at home when he returned +there in the evening. And Beauchêne, both annoyed at the scandal and +ashamed at being the primary cause of it, did not venture to interfere. +It was only after the unhappy Norine had rushed off sobbing that he found +strength of mind to attempt to pacify the father, and assert his +authority in the workroom by threatening to dismiss one and all of the +girls if the slightest scandal, the slightest noise, should ever occur +there again. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu was deeply pained by the scene, but kept his own counsel. What +most astonished him was the promptness with which Beauchêne regained his +self-possession as soon as Norine had fled, and the majesty with which he +withdrew to his office after threatening the others and restoring order. +Another whom the scene had painfully affected was Morange, whom Mathieu, +to his surprise, found ghastly pale, with trembling hands, as if indeed +he had had some share of responsibility in this unhappy business. But +Morange, as he confided to Mathieu, was distressed for other reasons. The +scene in the workroom, the revelation of Norine's condition, the fate +awaiting the girl driven away into the bleak, icy streets, had revived +all his own poignant worries with respect to Valérie. Mathieu had already +heard of the latter's trouble from his wife, and he speedily grasped the +accountant's meaning. It vaguely seemed to him also that Morange was +yielding to the same unreasoning despair as Valérie, and was almost +willing that she should take the desperate course which she had hinted to +Marianne. But it was a very serious matter, and Mathieu did not wish to +be in any way mixed up in it. Having tried his best to pacify the +cashier, he sought forgetfulness of these painful incidents in his work. +</p> +<p> +That afternoon, however, a little girl, Cécile Moineaud, the old fitter's +youngest daughter, slipped into his office, with a message from her +mother, beseeching him to speak with her. He readily understood that the +woman wished to see him respecting Norine, and in his usual compassionate +way he consented to go. The interview took place in one of the adjacent +streets, down which the cold winter wind was blowing. La Moineaude was +there with Norine and another little girl of hers, Irma, a child eight +years of age. Both Norine and her mother wept abundantly while begging +Mathieu to help them. He alone knew the whole truth, and was in a +position to approach Beauchêne on the subject. La Moineaude was firmly +determined to say nothing to her husband. She trembled for his future and +that of her son Alfred, who was now employed at the works; for there was +no telling what might happen if Beauchêne's name should be mentioned. +Life was indeed hard enough already, and what would become of them all +should the family bread-winners be turned away from the factory? Norine +certainly had no legal claim on Beauchêne, the law being peremptory on +that point; but, now that she had lost her employment, and was driven +from home by her father, could he leave her to die of want in the +streets? The girl tried to enforce her moral claim by asserting that she +had always been virtuous before meeting Beauchêne. In any case, her lot +remained a very hard one. That Beauchêne was the father of her child +there could be no doubt; and at last Mathieu, without promising success, +told the mother that he would do all he could in the matter. +</p> +<p> +He kept his word that same afternoon, and after a great deal of +difficulty he succeeded. At first Beauchêne fumed, stormed, denied, +equivocated, almost blamed Mathieu for interfering, talked too of +blackmail, and put on all sorts of high and mighty airs. But at heart the +matter greatly worried him. What if Norine or her mother should go to his +wife? Constance might close her eyes as long as she simply suspected +things, but if complaints were formally, openly made to her, there would +be a terrible scandal. On the other hand, however, should he do anything +for the girl, it would become known, and everybody would regard him as +responsible. And then there would be no end to what he called the +blackmailing. +</p> +<p> +However, when Beauchêne reached this stage Mathieu felt that the battle +was gained. He smiled and answered: "Of course, one can never +tell—the girl is certainly not malicious. But when women are +driven beyond endurance, they become capable of the worst follies. I +must say that she made no demands of me; she did not even explain what +she wanted; she simply said that she could not remain in the streets in +this bleak weather, since her father had turned her away from home. If +you want my opinion, it is this: I think that one might at once put her +to board at a proper place. Let us say that four or five months will +elapse before she is able to work again; that would mean a round sum of +five hundred francs in expenses. At that cost she might be properly +looked after." +</p> +<p> +Beauchêne walked nervously up and down, and then replied: "Well, I +haven't a bad heart, as you know. Five hundred francs more or less will +not inconvenience me. If I flew into a temper just now it was because the +mere idea of being robbed and imposed upon puts me beside myself. But if +it's a question of charity, why, then, do as you suggest. It must be +understood, however, that I won't mix myself up in anything; I wish even +to remain ignorant of what you do. Choose a nurse, place the girl where +you please, and I will simply pay the bill. Neither more nor less." +</p> +<p> +Then he heaved a sigh of relief at the prospect of being extricated from +this equivocal position, the worry of which he refused to acknowledge. +And once more he put on the mien of a superior, victorious man, one who +is certain that he will win all the battles of life. In fact, he even +jested about the girl, and at last went off repeating his instructions: +"See that my conditions are fully understood. I don't want to know +anything about any child. Do whatever you please, but never let me hear +another word of the matter." +</p> +<p> +That day was certainly one fertile in incidents, for in the evening there +was quite an alarm at the Beauchênes. At the moment when they were about +to sit down to dinner little Maurice fainted away and fell upon the +floor. Nearly a quarter of an hour elapsed before the child could be +revived, and meantime the distracted parents quarrelled and shouted, +accusing one another of having compelled the lad to go out walking that +morning in such cold, frosty weather. It was evidently that foolish +outing which had chilled him. At least, this was what they said to one +another by way of quieting their anxiety. Constance, while she held her +boy in her arms, pictured him as dead. It occurred to her for the first +time that she might possibly lose him. At this idea she experienced a +terrible heart-pang, and a feeling of motherliness came upon her, so +acute that it was like a revelation. The ambitious woman that was in her, +she who dreamt of royalty for that only son, the future princely owner of +the ever-growing family fortune, likewise suffered horribly. If she was +to lose that son she would have no child left. Why had she none other? +Was it not she who had willed it thus? At this thought a feeling of +desperate regret shot through her like a red-hot blade, burning her +cruelly to the very depths of her being. Maurice, however, at last +recovered consciousness, and even sat down to the table and ate with a +fair appetite. Then Beauchêne immediately shrugged his shoulders, and +began to jest about the unreasoning fears of women. And as time went by +Constance herself ceased to think of the incident. +</p> +<p> +On the morrow, when Mathieu had to attend to the delicate mission which +he had undertaken, he remembered the two women of whom Céleste, the maid, +had spoken on the day of his visit to the Séguins. He at first dismissed +all idea of that Madame Rouche, of whom the girl had spoken so strangely, +but he thought of making some inquiries respecting Madame Bourdieu, who +accommodated boarders at the little house where she resided in the Rue de +Miromesnil. And he seemed to remember that this woman had attended Madame +Morange at the time of Reine's birth, a circumstance which induced him to +question the cashier. +</p> +<p> +At the very first words the latter seemed greatly disturbed. "Yes, a lady +friend recommended Madame Bourdieu to my wife," said he; "but why do you +ask me?" +</p> +<p> +And as he spoke he looked at Mathieu with an expression of anguish, as if +that sudden mention of Madame Bourdieu's name signified that the young +fellow had guessed his secret preoccupations. It was as though he had +been abruptly surprised in wrong-doing. Perhaps, too, certain dim, +haunting thoughts, which he had long been painfully revolving in his +mind, without as yet being able to come to a decision, took shape at that +moment. At all events, he turned pale and his lips trembled. +</p> +<p> +Then, as Mathieu gave him to understand that it was a question of placing +Norine somewhere, he involuntarily let an avowal escape him. +</p> +<p> +"My wife was speaking to me of Madame Bourdieu only this morning," he +began. "Oh! I don't know how it happened, but, as you are aware, Reine +was born so many years ago that I can't give you any precise information. +It seems that the woman has done well, and is now at the head of a +first-class establishment. Inquire there yourself; I have no doubt you +will find what you want there." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu followed this advice; but at the same time, as he had been warned +that Madame Bourdieu's terms were rather high, he stifled his prejudices +and began by repairing to the Rue du Rocher in order to reconnoitre +Madame Rouche's establishment and make some inquiries of her. The mere +aspect of the place chilled him. It was one of the black houses of old +Paris, with a dark, evil-smelling passage, leading into a small yard +which the nurse's few squalid rooms overlooked. Above the passage +entrance was a yellow signboard which simply bore the name of Madame +Rouche in big letters. She herself proved to be a person of five or +six-and-thirty, gowned in black and spare of figure, with a leaden +complexion, scanty hair of no precise color, and a big nose of unusual +prominence. With her low, drawling speech, her prudent, cat-like +gestures, and her sour smile, he divined her to be a dangerous, +unscrupulous woman. She told him that, as the accommodation at her +disposal was so small, she only took boarders for a limited time, and +this of course enabled him to curtail his inquiries. Glad to have done +with her, he hurried off, oppressed by nausea and vaguely frightened by +what he had seen of the place. +</p> +<p> +On the other hand, Madame Bourdieu's establishment, a little +three-storied house in the Rue de Miromesnil, between the Rue La Boëtie +and the Rue de Penthièvre, offered an engaging aspect, with its bright +façade and muslin-curtained windows. And Madame Bourdieu, then +two-and-thirty, rather short and stout, had a broad, pleasant white face, +which had greatly helped her on the road to success. She expatiated to +Mathieu on the preliminary training that was required by one of her +profession, the cost of it, the efforts needed to make a position, the +responsibilities, the inspections, the worries of all sorts that she had +to face; and she plainly told the young man that her charge for a boarder +would be two hundred francs a month. This was far more than he was +empowered to give; however, after some further conversation, when Madame +Bourdieu learnt that it was a question of four months' board, she became +more accommodating, and agreed to accept a round sum of six hundred +francs for the entire period, provided that the person for whom Mathieu +was acting would consent to occupy a three-bedded room with two other +boarders. +</p> +<p> +Altogether there were about a dozen boarders' rooms in the house, some of +these having three, and even four, beds; while others, the terms for +which were naturally higher, contained but one. Madame Bourdieu could +accommodate as many as thirty boarders, and as a rule, she had some +five-and-twenty staying on her premises. Provided they complied with the +regulations, no questions were asked them. They were not required to say +who they were or whence they came, and in most cases they were merely +known by some Christian name which they chose to give. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu ended by agreeing to Madame Bourdieu's terms, and that same +evening Norine was taken to her establishment. Some little trouble ensued +with Beauchêne, who protested when he learnt that five hundred francs +would not suffice to defray the expenses. However, Mathieu managed +affairs so diplomatically that at last the other not only became +reconciled to the terms, but provided the money to purchase a little +linen, and even agreed to supply pocket-money to the extent of ten francs +a month. Thus, five days after Norine had entered Madame Bourdieu's +establishment, Mathieu decided to return thither to hand the girl her +first ten francs and tell her that he had settled everything. +</p> +<p> +He found her there in the boarders' refectory with some of her companions +in the house—a tall, thin, severe-looking Englishwoman, with lifeless +eyes and bloodless lips, who called herself Amy, and a pale red-haired +girl with a tip-tilted nose and a big mouth, who was known as Victoire. +Then, too, there was a young person of great beauty answering to the name +of Rosine, a jeweller's daughter, so Norine told Mathieu, whose story was +at once pathetic and horrible. The young man, while waiting to see Madame +Bourdieu, who was engaged, sat for a time answering Norine's questions, +and listening to the others, who conversed before him in a free and open +way. His heart was wrung by much that he heard, and as soon as he could +rid himself of Norine he returned to the waiting-room, eager to complete +his business. There, however, two women who wished to consult Madame +Bourdieu, and who sat chatting side by side on a sofa, told him that she +was still engaged, so that he was compelled to tarry a little longer. He +ensconced himself in a large armchair, and taking a newspaper from his +pocket, began to read it. But he had not been thus occupied for many +minutes before the door opened and a servant entered, ushering in a lady +dressed in black and thickly veiled, whom she asked to be good enough to +wait her turn. Mathieu was on the point of rising, for, though his back +was turned to the door, he could see, in a looking-glass, that the new +arrival was none other than Morange's wife, Valérie. After a moment's +hesitation, however, the sight of her black gown and thick veil, which +seemed to indicate that she desired to escape recognition, induced him to +dive back into his armchair and feign extreme attention to his newspaper. +She, on her side, had certainly not noticed him, but by glancing +slantwise towards the looking-glass he could observe all her movements. +</p> +<p> +Meantime the conversation between the other women on the sofa continued, +and to Mathieu's surprise it suddenly turned on Madame Rouche, concerning +whom one of them began telling the most horrible stories, which fully +confirmed the young man's previous suspicions. These stories seemed to +have a powerful fascination for Valérie, who sat in a corner, never +stirring, but listening intently. She did not even turn her head towards +the other women, but, beneath her veil, Mathieu could detect her big eyes +glittering feverishly. She started but once. It was when one of the +others inquired of her friend where that horrid creature La Rouche +resided, and the other replied, "At the lower end of the Rue du Rocher." +</p> +<p> +Then their chatter abruptly ceased, for Madame Bourdieu made her +appearance on the threshold of her private room. The gossips exchanged +only a few words with her, and then, as Mathieu remained in his armchair, +the high back of which concealed him from view, Valérie rose from her +seat and followed Madame Bourdieu into the private room. +</p> +<p> +As soon as he was alone the young man let his newspaper fall upon his +knees, and lapsed into a reverie, haunted by all the chatter he had +heard, both there and in Norine's company, and shuddering at the thought +of the dreadful secrets that had been revealed to him. How long an +interval elapsed he could not tell, but at last he was suddenly roused by +a sound of voices. +</p> +<p> +Madame Bourdieu was now escorting Valérie to the door. She had the same +plump fresh face as usual, and even smiled in a motherly way; but the +other was quivering, as with distress and grief. "You are not sensible, +my dear child," said Madame Bourdieu to her. "It is simply foolish of +you. Come, go home and be good." +</p> +<p> +Then, Valérie having withdrawn without uttering a word, Madame Bourdieu +was greatly surprised to see Mathieu, who had risen from his chair. And +she suddenly became serious, displeased with herself at having spoken in +his presence. Fortunately, a diversion was created by the arrival of +Norine, who came in from the refectory; and Mathieu then promptly settled +his business and went off, after promising Norine that he would return +some day to see her. +</p> +<p> +To make up for lost time he was walking hastily towards the Rue La +Boëtie, when, all at once, he came to a halt, for at the very corner of +that street he again perceived Valérie, now talking to a man, none other +than her husband. So Morange had come with her, and had waited for her in +the street while she interviewed Madame Bourdieu. And now they both stood +there consulting together, hesitating and evidently in distress. It was +plain to Mathieu that a terrible combat was going on within them. They +stamped about, moved hither and thither in a feverish way, then halted +once more to resume their conversation in a whisper. At one moment the +young man felt intensely relieved, for, turning into the Rue La Boëtie, +they walked on slowly, as if downcast and resigned, in the direction of +Grenelle. But all at once they halted once more and exchanged a few +words; and then Mathieu's heart contracted as he saw them retrace their +steps along the Rue La Boëtie and follow the Rue de la Pépinière as far +as the Rue du Rocher. He readily divined whither they were going, but +some irresistible force impelled him to follow them; and before long, +from an open doorway, in which he prudently concealed himself, he saw +them look round to ascertain whether they were observed, and then slink, +first the wife and afterwards the husband, into the dark passage of La +Rouche's house. For a moment Mathieu lingered in his hiding-place, +quivering, full of dread and horror; and when at last he turned his steps +homeward it was with a heavy heart indeed. +</p> +<p> +The weeks went by, the winter ran its course, and March had come round, +when the memory of all that the young fellow had heard and seen that +day—things which he had vainly striven to forget—was revived +in the most startling fashion. One morning at eight o'clock Morange +abruptly called at the little pavilion in the Rue de la Fédération, +accompanied by his daughter Reine. The cashier was livid, haggard, +distracted, and as soon as Reine had joined Mathieu's children, and +could not hear what he said, he implored the young man to come with him. +In a gasp he told the dreadful truth—Valérie was dying. Her +daughter believed her to be in the country, but that was a mere fib +devised to quiet the girl. Valérie was elsewhere, in Paris, and he, +Morange, had a cab waiting below, but lacked the strength to go back to +her alone, so poignant was his grief, so great his dread. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu was expecting a happy event that very day, and he at first told +the cashier that he could not possibly go with him; but when he had +informed Marianne that he believed that something dreadful had happened +to the Moranges, she bravely bade him render all assistance. And then the +two men drove, as Mathieu had anticipated, to the Rue du Rocher, and +there found the hapless Valérie, not dying, but dead, and white, and icy +cold. Ah! the desperate, tearless grief of the husband, who fell upon his +knees at the bedside, benumbed, annihilated, as if he also felt death's +heavy hand upon him. +</p> +<p> +For a moment, indeed, the young man anticipated exposure and scandal. But +when he hinted this to La Rouche she faintly smiled. She had friends on +many sides, it seemed. She had already reported Valérie's death at the +municipal office, and the doctor, who would be sent to certify the +demise, would simply ascribe it to natural causes. Such was the usual +practice! +</p> +<p> +Then Mathieu bethought himself of leading Morange away; but the other, +still plunged in painful stupor, did not heed him. +</p> +<p> +"No, no, my friend, I pray you, say nothing," he at last replied, in a +very faint, distant voice, as though he feared to awaken the unfortunate +woman who had fallen asleep forever. "I know what I have done; I shall +never forgive myself. If she lies there, it is because I consented. Yet I +adored her, and never wished her aught but happiness. I loved her too +much, and I was weak. Still, I was the husband, and when her madness came +upon her I ought to have acted sensibly, and have warned and dissuaded +her. I can understand and excuse her, poor creature; but as for me, it is +all over; I am a wretch; I feel horrified with myself." +</p> +<p> +All his mediocrity and tenderness of heart sobbed forth in this +confession of his weakness. And his voice never gave sign of animation, +never rose in a louder tone from the depths of his annihilated being, +which would evermore be void. "She wished to be gay, and rich, and +happy," he continued. "It was so legitimate a wish on her part, she was +so intelligent and beautiful! There was only one delight for me, to +content her tastes and satisfy her ambition. You know our new flat. We +spent far too much money on it. Then came that story of the Crédit +National and the hope of speedily rising to fortune. And thus, when the +trouble came, and I saw her distracted at the idea of having to renounce +all her dreams, I became as mad as she was, and suffered her to do her +will. We thought that our only means of escaping from everlasting penury +and drudgery was to evade Nature, and now, alas! she lies there." +</p> +<p> +Morange's lugubrious voice, never broken by a sob, never rising to +violence, but sounding like a distant, monotonous, mournful knell, rent +Mathieu's heart. He sought words of consolation, and spoke of Reine. +</p> +<p> +"Ah, yes!" said the other, "I am very fond of Reine. She is so like her +mother. You will keep her at your house till to-morrow, won't you? Tell +her nothing; let her play; I will acquaint her with this dreadful +misfortune. And don't worry me, I beg you, don't take me away. I promise +you that I will keep very quiet: I will simply stay here, watching her. +Nobody will even hear me; I shan't disturb any one." +</p> +<p> +Then his voice faltered and he stammered a few more incoherent phrases as +he sank into a dream of his wrecked life. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu, seeing him so quiet, so overcome, at last decided to leave him +there, and, entering the waiting cab, drove back to Grenelle. Ah! it was +indeed relief for him to see the crowded, sunlit streets again, and to +breathe the keen air which came in at both windows of the vehicle. +Emerging from that horrid gloom, he breathed gladly beneath the vast sky, +all radiant with healthy joy. And the image of Marianne arose before him +like a consolatory promise of life's coming victory, an atonement for +every shame and iniquity. His dear wife, whom everlasting hope kept full +of health and courage, and through whom, even amid her pangs, love would +triumph, while they both held themselves in readiness for to-morrow's +allotted effort! The cab rolled on so slowly that Mathieu almost +despaired, eager as he was to reach his bright little house, that he +might once more take part in life's poem, that august festival instinct +with so much suffering and so much joy, humanity's everlasting hymn, the +coming of a new being into the world. +</p> +<p> +That very day, soon after his return, Denis and Blaise, Ambroise, Rose, +and Reine were sent round to the Beauchênes', where they filled the house +with their romping mirth. Maurice, however, was again ailing, and had to +lie upon a sofa, disconsolate at being unable to take part in the play of +the others. "He has pains in his legs," said his father to Mathieu, when +he came round to inquire after Marianne; "he's growing so fast, and +getting such a big fellow, you know." +</p> +<p> +Lightly as Beauchêne spoke, his eyes even then wavered, and his face +remained for a moment clouded. Perhaps, in his turn, he also had felt the +passing of that icy breath from the unknown which one evening had made +Constance shudder with dread whilst she clasped her swooning boy in her +arms. +</p> +<p> +But at that moment Mathieu, who had left Marianne's room to answer +Beauchêne's inquiries, was summoned back again. And there he now found +the sunlight streaming brilliantly, like a glorious greeting to new life. +While he yet stood there, dazzled by the glow, the doctor said to him: +"It is a boy." +</p> +<p> +Then Mathieu leant over his wife and kissed her lovingly. Her beautiful +eyes were still moist with the tears of anguish, but she was already +smiling with happiness. +</p> +<p> +"Dear, dear wife," said Mathieu, "how good and brave you are, and how I +love you!" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, yes, I am very happy," she faltered, "and I must try to give you +back all the love that you give me." +</p> +<p> +Ah! that room of battle and victory, it seemed radiant with triumphant +glory. Elsewhere was death, darkness, shame, and crime, but here holy +suffering had led to joy and pride, hope and trustfulness in the coming +future. One single being born, a poor bare wee creature, raising the +faint cry of a chilly fledgeling, and life's immense treasure was +increased and eternity insured. Mathieu remembered one warm balmy spring +night when, yonder at Chantebled, all the perfumes of fruitful nature had +streamed into their room in the little hunting-box, and now around him +amid equal rapture he beheld the ardent sunlight flaring, chanting the +poem of eternal life that sprang from love the eternal. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="VII">VII</a></h4> + +<p> +"I TELL you that I don't need Zoé to give the child a bath," exclaimed +Mathieu half in anger. "Stay in bed, and rest yourself!" +</p> +<p> +"But the servant must get the bath ready," replied Marianne, "and bring +you some warm water." +</p> +<p> +She laughed as if amused by the dispute, and he ended by laughing also. +</p> +<p> +Two days previously they had re-installed themselves in the little +pavilion on the verge of the woods near Janville which they rented from +the Séguins. So impatient, indeed, were they to find themselves once +more among the fields that in spite of the doctor's advice Marianne had +made the journey but fifteen days after giving birth to her little boy. +However, a precocious springtide brought with it that March such balmy +warmth and sunshine that the only ill-effect she experienced was a +little fatigue. And so, on the day after their +arrival—Sunday—Mathieu, glad at being able to remain with +her, insisted that she should rest in bed, and only rise about noon, in +time for <i>déjeuner</i>. +</p> +<p> +"Why," he repeated, "I can very well attend to the child while you rest. +You have him in your arms from morning till night. And, besides, if you +only knew how pleased I am to be here again with you and the dear little +fellow." +</p> +<p> +He approached her to kiss her gently, and with a fresh laugh she returned +his kiss. It was quite true: they were both delighted to be back at +Chantebled, which recalled to them such loving memories. That room, +looking towards the far expanse of sky and all the countryside, +renascent, quivering with sap, was gilded with gayety by the early +springtide. +</p> +<p> +Marianne leant over the cradle which was near her, beside the bed. "The +fact is," said she, "Master Gervais is sound asleep. Just look at him. +You will never have the heart to wake him." +</p> +<p> +Then both father and mother remained for a moment gazing at their +sleeping child. Marianne had passed her arm round her husband's neck and +was clinging to him, as they laughed delightedly over the cradle in which +the little one slumbered. He was a fine child, pink and white already; +but only a father and mother could thus contemplate their offspring. As +the baby opened his eyes, which were still full of all the mystery whence +he had come, they raised exclamations full of emotion. +</p> +<p> +"You know, he saw me!" +</p> +<p> +"Certainly, and me too. He looked at me: he turned his head." +</p> +<p> +"Oh, the cherub!" +</p> +<p> +It was but an illusion, but that dear little face, still so soft and +silent, told them so many things which none other would have heard! They +found themselves repeated in the child, mingled as it were together; and +detected extraordinary likenesses, which for hours and for days kept them +discussing the question as to which of them he most resembled. Moreover, +each proved very obstinate, declaring that he was the living portrait of +the other. +</p> +<p> +As a matter of course, Master Gervais had no sooner opened his eyes than +he began to shriek. But Marianne was pitiless: her rule was the bath +first and milk afterwards. Zoé brought up a big jug of hot water, and +then set out the little bath near the window in the sunlight. And +Mathieu, all obstinacy, bathed the child, washing him with a soft sponge +for some three minutes, while Marianne, from her bed, watched over the +operation, jesting about the delicacy of touch that he displayed, as if +the child were some fragile new-born divinity whom he feared to bruise +with his big hands. At the same time they continued marvelling at the +delightful scene. How pretty he looked in the water, his pink skin +shining in the sunlight! And how well-behaved he was, for it was +wonderful to see how quickly he ceased wailing and gave signs of +satisfaction when he felt the all-enveloping caress of the warm water. +Never had father and mother possessed such a little treasure. +</p> +<p> +"And now," said Mathieu, when Zoé had helped him to wipe the boy with a +fine cloth, "and now we will weigh Master Gervais." +</p> +<p> +This was a complicated operation, which was rendered the more difficult +by the extreme repugnance that the child displayed. He struggled and +wriggled on the platform of the weighing scales to such a degree that it +was impossible to arrive at his correct weight, in order to ascertain how +much this had increased since the previous occasion. As a rule, the +increase varied from six to seven ounces a week. The father generally +lost patience over the operation, and the mother had to intervene. +</p> +<p> +"Here! put the scales on the table near my bed, and give me the little +one in his napkin. We will see what the napkin weighs afterwards." +</p> +<p> +At this moment, however, the customary morning invasion took place. The +other four children, who were beginning to know how to dress themselves, +the elder ones helping the younger, and Zoé lending a hand at times, +darted in at a gallop, like frolicsome escaped colts. Having thrown +themselves on papa's neck and rushed upon mamma's bed to say +good-morning, the boys stopped short, full of admiration and interest at +the sight of Gervais in the scales. Rose, however, still rather uncertain +on her legs, caught hold of the scales in her impatient efforts to climb +upon the bed, and almost toppled everything over. "I want to see! I want +to see!" she cried in her shrill voice. +</p> +<p> +At this the others likewise wished to meddle, and already stretched out +their little hands, so that it became necessary to turn them out of +doors. +</p> +<p> +"Now kindly oblige me by going to play outside," said Mathieu. "Take your +hats and remain under the window, so that we may hear you." +</p> +<p> +Then, in spite of the complaints and leaps of Master Gervais, Marianne +was at last able to obtain his correct weight. And what delight there +was, for he had gained more than seven ounces during the week. After +losing weight during the first three days, like all new-born children, he +was now growing and filling out like a strong, healthy human plant. They +could already picture him walking, sturdy and handsome. His mother, +sitting up in bed, wrapped his swaddling clothes around him with her +deft, nimble hands, jesting the while and answering each of his plaintive +wails. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, yes, I know, we are very, very hungry. But it is all right; the +soup is on the fire, and will be served to Monsieur smoking hot." +</p> +<p> +On awakening that morning she had made a real Sunday toilette: her superb +hair was caught up in a huge chignon which disclosed the whiteness of her +neck, and she wore a white flannel lace-trimmed dressing-jacket, which +allowed but a little of her bare arms to be seen. Propped up by two +pillows, she laughingly offered her breast to the child, who was already +protruding his lips and groping with his hands. And when he found what he +wanted he eagerly began to suck. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu, seeing that both mother and babe were steeped in sunshine, then +went to draw one of the curtains, but Marianne exclaimed: "No, no, leave +us the sun; it doesn't inconvenience us at all, it fills our veins with +springtide." +</p> +<p> +He came back and lingered near the bed. The sun's rays poured over it, +and life blazed there in a florescence of health and beauty. There is no +more glorious blossoming, no more sacred symbol of living eternity than +an infant at its mother's breast. It is like a prolongation of +maternity's travail, when the mother continues giving herself to her +babe, offering him the fountain of life that shall make him a man. +</p> +<p> +Scarce is he born to the world than she takes him back and clasps him to +her bosom, that he may there again have warmth and nourishment. And +nothing could be more simple or more necessary. Marianne, both for her +own sake and that of her boy, in order that beauty and health might +remain their portion, was naturally his nurse. +</p> +<p> +Little Gervais was still sucking when Zoé, after tidying the room, came +up again with a big bunch of lilac, and announced that Monsieur and +Madame Angelin had called, on their way back from an early walk, to +inquire after Madame. +</p> +<p> +"Show them up," said Marianne gayly; "I can well receive them." +</p> +<p> +The Angelins were the young couple who, having installed themselves in a +little house at Janville, ever roamed the lonely paths, absorbed in their +mutual passion. She was delicious—dark, tall, admirably formed, +always joyous and fond of pleasure. He, a handsome fellow, fair and square +shouldered, had the gallant mien of a musketeer with his streaming +moustache. In addition to their ten thousand francs a year, which enabled +them to live as they liked, he earned a little money by painting pretty +fans, flowery with roses and little women deftly postured. And so their +life had hitherto been a game of love, an everlasting billing and cooing. +Towards the close of the previous summer they had become quite intimate +with the Froments, through meeting them well-nigh every day. +</p> +<p> +"Can we come in? Are we not intruding?" called Angelin, in his sonorous +voice, from the landing. +</p> +<p> +Then Claire, his wife, as soon as she had kissed Marianne, apologized for +having called so early. +</p> +<p> +"We only learnt last night, my dear," said she, "that you had arrived the +day before. We didn't expect you for another eight or ten days. And so, +as we passed the house just now, we couldn't resist calling. You will +forgive us, won't you?" Then, never waiting for an answer, she added with +the petulant vivacity of a tom-tit whom the open air had intoxicated: +"Oh! so there is the new little gentleman—a boy, am I not right? And +your health is good? But really I need not ask it. <i>Mon Dieu</i>, what a +pretty little fellow he is! Look at him, Robert; how pretty he is! A real +little doll! Isn't he funny now, isn't he funny! He is quite amusing." +</p> +<p> +Her husband, observing her gayety, drew near and began to admire the +child by way of following her example. "Ah yes, he is really a pretty baby. +But I have seen so many frightful ones—thin, puny, bluish little +things, looking like little plucked chickens. When they are white and +plump they are quite nice." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu began to laugh, and twitted the Angelins on having no child of +their own. But on this point they held very decided opinions. They wished +to enjoy life, unburdened by offspring, while they were young. As for +what might happen in five or six years' time, that, of course, was +another matter. Nevertheless, Madame Angelin could not help being struck +by the delightful picture which Marianne, so fresh and gay, presented +with her plump little babe at her breast in that white bed amid the +bright sunshine. +</p> +<p> +At last she remarked: "There's one thing. I certainly could not feed a +child. I should have to engage a nurse for any baby of mine." +</p> +<p> +"Of course!" her husband replied. "I would never allow you to feed it. It +would be idiotic." +</p> +<p> +These words had scarcely passed his lips when he regretted them and +apologized to Marianne, explaining that no mother possessed of means was +nowadays willing to face the trouble and worry of nursing. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! for my part," Marianne responded, with her quiet smile, "if I had a +hundred thousand francs a year I should nurse all my children, even were +there a dozen of them. To begin with, it is so healthful, you know, both +for mother and child: and if I didn't do my duty to the little one I +should look on myself as a criminal, as a mother who grudged her +offspring health and life." +</p> +<p> +Lowering her beautiful soft eyes towards her boy, she watched him with a +look of infinite love, while he continued nursing gluttonously. And in a +dreamy voice she continued: "To give a child of mine to another—oh +no, never! I should feel too jealous. I want my children to be entirely my +own. And it isn't merely a question of a child's physical health. I speak +of his whole being, of the intelligence and heart that will come to him, +and which he ought to derive from me alone. If I should find him foolish +or malicious later on, I should think that his nurse had poisoned him. +Dear little fellow! when he pulls like that it is as if he were drinking +me up entirely." +</p> +<p> +Then Mathieu, deeply moved, turned towards the others, saying: "Ah! she +is quite right. I only wish that every mother could hear her, and make it +the fashion in France once more to suckle their infants. It would be +sufficient if it became an ideal of beauty. And, indeed, is it not of the +loftiest and brightest beauty?" +</p> +<p> +The Angelins complaisantly began to laugh, but they did not seem +convinced. Just as they rose to take their leave an extraordinary uproar +burst forth beneath the window, the piercing clamor of little wildings, +freely romping in the fields. And it was all caused by Ambroise throwing +a ball, which had lodged itself on a tree. Blaise and Denis were flinging +stones at it to bring it down, and Rose called and jumped and stretched +out her arms as if she hoped to be able to reach the ball. The Angelins +stopped short, surprised and almost nervous. +</p> +<p> +"Good heavens!" murmured Claire, "what will it be when you have a dozen?" +</p> +<p> +"But the house would seem quite dead if they did not romp and shout," +said Marianne, much amused. "Good-by, my dear. I will go to see you when +I can get about." +</p> +<p> +The months of March and April proved superb, and all went well with +Marianne. Thus the lonely little house, nestling amid foliage, was ever +joyous. Each Sunday in particular proved a joy, for the father did not +then have to go to his office. On the other days he started off early in +the morning, and returned about seven o'clock, ever busily laden with +work in the interval. And if his constant perambulations did not affect +his good-humor, he was nevertheless often haunted by thoughts of the +future. Formerly he had never been alarmed by the penury of his little +home. Never had he indulged in any dream of ambition or wealth. Besides, +he knew that his wife's only idea of happiness, like his own, was to live +there in very simple fashion, leading a brave life of health, +peacefulness, and love. But while he did not desire the power procured by +a high position and the enjoyment offered by a large fortune, he could +not help asking himself how he was to provide, were it ever so modestly, +for his increasing family. What would he be able to do, should he have +other children; how would he procure the necessaries of life each time +that a fresh birth might impose fresh requirements upon him? One situated +as he was must create resources, draw food from the earth step by step, +each time a little mouth opened and cried its hunger aloud. Otherwise he +would be guilty of criminal improvidence. And such reflections as these +came upon him the more strongly as his penury had increased since the +birth of Gervais—to such a point, indeed, that Marianne, despite +prodigies of economy, no longer knew how to make her money last her till +the end of the month. The slightest expenditure had to be debated; the +very butter had to be spread thinly on the children's bread; and they had +to continue wearing their blouses till they were well-nigh threadbare. To +increase the embarrassment they grew every year, and cost more money. It +had been necessary to send the three boys to a little school at Janville, +which was as yet but a small expense. But would it not be necessary to +send them the following year to a college, and where was the money for +this to come from? A grave problem, a worry which grew from hour to hour, +and which for Mathieu somewhat spoilt that charming spring whose advent +was flowering the countryside. +</p> +<p> +The worst was that Mathieu deemed himself immured, as it were, in his +position as designer at the Beauchêne works. Even admitting that his +salary should some day be doubled, it was not seven or eight thousand +francs a year which would enable him to realize his dream of a numerous +family freely and proudly growing and spreading like some happy forest, +indebted solely for strength, health, and beauty to the good common +mother of all, the earth, which gave to all its sap. And this was why, +since his return to Janville, the earth, the soil had attracted him, +detained him during his frequent walks, while he revolved vague but +ever-expanding thoughts in his mind. He would pause for long minutes, now +before a field of wheat, now on the verge of a leafy wood, now on the +margin of a river whose waters glistened in the sunshine, and now amid +the nettles of some stony moorland. All sorts of vague plans then rose +within him, uncertain reveries of such vast scope, such singularity, that +he had as yet spoken of them to nobody, not even his wife. Others would +doubtless have mocked at him, for he had as yet but reached that dim, +quivering hour when inventors feel the gust of their discovery sweep over +them, before the idea that they are revolving presents itself with full +precision to their minds. Yet why did he not address himself to the soil, +man's everlasting provider and nurse? Why did he not clear and fertilize +those far-spreading lands, those woods, those heaths, those stretches of +stony ground which were left sterile around him? Since it was just that +each man should bring his contribution to the common weal, create +subsistence for himself and his offspring, why should not he, at the +advent of each new child, supply a new field of fertile earth which would +give that child food, without cost to the community? That was his sole +idea; it took no more precise shape; at the thought of realizing it he +was carried off into splendid dreams. +</p> +<p> +The Froments had been in the country fully a month when one evening +Marianne, wheeling Gervais's little carriage in front of her, came as far +as the bridge over the Yeuse to await Mathieu, who had promised to return +early. Indeed, he got there before six o'clock. And as the evening was +fine, it occurred to Marianne to go as far as the Lepailleurs' mill down +the river, and buy some new-laid eggs there. +</p> +<p> +"I'm willing," said Mathieu. "I'm very fond of their romantic old mill, +you know; though if it were mine I should pull it down and build another +one with proper appliances." +</p> +<p> +In the yard of the picturesque old building, half covered with ivy, with +its mossy wheel slumbering amid water-lilies, they found the Lepailleurs, +the man tall, dry, and carroty, the woman as carroty and as dry as +himself, but both of them young and hardy. Their child Antonin was +sitting on the ground, digging a hole with his little hands. +</p> +<p> +"Eggs?" La Lepailleur exclaimed; "yes, certainly, madame, there must be +some." +</p> +<p> +She made no haste to fetch them, however, but stood looking at Gervais, +who was asleep in his little vehicle. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! so that's your last. He's plump and pretty enough, I must say," she +remarked. +</p> +<p> +But Lepailleur raised a derisive laugh, and with the familiarity which +the peasant displays towards the <i>bourgeois</i> whom he knows to be hard +up, he said: "And so that makes you five, monsieur. Ah, well! that would be +a deal too many for poor folks like us." +</p> +<p> +"Why?" Mathieu quietly inquired. "Haven't you got this mill, and don't +you own fields, to give labor to the arms that would come and whose labor +would double and treble your produce?" +</p> +<p> +These simple words were like a whipstroke that made Lepailleur rear. And +once again he poured forth all his spite. Ah! surely now, it wasn't his +tumble-down old mill that would ever enrich him, since it had enriched +neither his father nor his grandfather. And as for his fields, well, that +was a pretty dowry that his wife had brought him, land in which nothing +more would grow, and which, however much one might water it with one's +sweat, did not even pay for manuring and sowing. +</p> +<p> +"But in the first place," resumed Mathieu, "your mill ought to be +repaired and its old mechanism replaced, or, better still, you should buy +a good steam-engine." +</p> +<p> +"Repair the mill! Buy an engine! Why, that's madness," the other replied. +"What would be the use of it? As it is, people hereabouts have almost +renounced growing corn, and I remain idle every other month." +</p> +<p> +"And then," continued Mathieu, "if your fields yield less, it is because +you cultivate them badly, following the old routine, without proper care +or appliances or artificial manure." +</p> +<p> +"Appliances! Artificial manure! All that humbug which has only sent poor +folks to rack and ruin! Ah! I should just like to see you trying to +cultivate the land better, and make it yield what it'll never yield any +more." +</p> +<p> +Thereupon he quite lost his temper, became violent and brutal, launching +against the ungrateful earth all the charges which his love of idleness +and his obstinacy suggested. He had travelled, he had fought in Africa as +a soldier, folks could not say that he had always lived in his hole like +an ignorant beast. But, none the less, on leaving his regiment he had +lost all taste for work and come to the conclusion that agriculture was +doomed, and would never give him aught but dry bread to eat. The land +would soon be bankrupt, and the peasantry no longer believed in it, so +old and empty and worn out had it become. And even the sun got out of +order nowadays; they had snow in July and thunderstorms in December, a +perfect upsetting of seasons, which wrecked the crops almost before they +were out of the ground. +</p> +<p> +"No, monsieur," said Lepailleur, "what you say is impossible; it's all +past. The soil and work, there's nothing left of either. It's barefaced +robbery, and though the peasant may kill himself with labor, he will soon +be left without even water to drink. Children indeed! No, no! There's +Antonin, of course, and for him we may just be able to provide. But I +assure you that I won't even make Antonin a peasant against his will! If +he takes to schooling and wishes to go to Paris, I shall tell him that +he's quite right, for Paris is nowadays the only chance for sturdy chaps +who want to make a fortune. So he will be at liberty to sell everything, +if he chooses, and try his luck there. The only thing that I regret is +that I didn't make the venture myself when there was still time." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu began to laugh. Was it not singular that he, a <i>bourgeois</i> +with a bachelor's degree and scientific attainments, should dream of +coming back to the soil, to the common mother of all labor and wealth, +when this peasant, sprung from peasants, cursed and insulted the earth, +and hoped that his son would altogether renounce it? Never had anything +struck him as more significant. It symbolized that disastrous exodus +from the rural districts towards the towns, an exodus which year by year +increased, unhinging the nation and reducing it to anæmia. +</p> +<p> +"You are wrong," he said in a jovial way so as to drive all bitterness +from the discussion. "Don't be unfaithful to the earth; she's an old +mistress who would revenge herself. In your place I would lay myself out +to obtain from her, by increase of care, all that I might want. As in the +world's early days, she is still the great fruitful spouse, and she +yields abundantly when she is loved in proper fashion." +</p> +<p> +But Lepailleur, raising his fists, retorted: "No, no; I've had enough of +her!" +</p> +<p> +"And, by the way," continued Mathieu, "one thing which astonishes me is +that no courageous, intelligent man has ever yet come forward to do +something with all that vast abandoned estate yonder—that +Chantebled—which old Séguin, formerly, dreamt of turning into a +princely domain. There are great stretches of waste land, woods which +one might partly fell, heaths and moorland which might easily be +restored to cultivation. What a splendid task! What a work of creation +for a bold man to undertake!" +</p> +<p> +This so amazed Lepailleur that he stood there openmouthed. Then his +jeering spirit asserted itself: "But, my dear sir—excuse my saying +it—you must be mad! Cultivate Chantebled, clear those stony tracts, +wade about in those marshes! Why, one might bury millions there without +reaping a single bushel of oats! It's a cursed spot, which my +grandfather's father saw such as it is now, and which my grandson's son +will see just the same. Ah! well, I'm not inquisitive, but it would +really amuse me to meet the fool who might attempt such madness." +</p> +<p> +"<i>Mon Dieu</i>, who knows?" Mathieu quietly concluded. "When one only +loves strongly one may work miracles." +</p> +<p> +La Lepailleur, after going to fetch a dozen eggs, now stood erect before +her husband in admiration at hearing him talk so eloquently to a +<i>bourgeois</i>. They agreed very well together in their avaricious rage +at being unable to amass money by the handful without any great exertion, +and in their ambition to make their son a gentleman, since only a +gentleman could become wealthy. And thus, as Marianne was going off after +placing the eggs under a cushion in Gervais' little carriage, the other +complacently called her attention to Antonin, who, having made a hole in +the ground, was now spitting into it. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! he's smart," said she; "he knows his alphabet already, and we are +going to put him to school. If he takes after his father he will be no +fool, I assure you." +</p> +<p> +It was on a Sunday, some ten days later, that the supreme revelation, the +great flash of light which was to decide his life and that of those he +loved, fell suddenly upon Mathieu during a walk he took with his wife and +the children. They had gone out for the whole afternoon, taking a little +snack with them in order that they might share it amid the long grass in +the fields. And after scouring the paths, crossing the copses, rambling +over the moorland, they came back to the verge of the woods and sat down +under an oak. Thence the whole expanse spread out before them, from the +little pavilion where they dwelt to the distant village of Janville. On +their right was the great marshy plateau, from which broad, dry, sterile +slopes descended; while lower ground stretched away on their left. Then, +behind them, spread the woods with deep thickets parted by clearings, +full of herbage which no scythe had ever touched. And not a soul was to +be seen around them; there was naught save wild Nature, grandly quiescent +under the bright sun of that splendid April day. The earth seemed to be +dilating with all the sap amassed within it, and a flood of life could be +felt rising and quivering in the vigorous trees, the spreading plants, +and the impetuous growth of brambles and nettles which stretched +invadingly over the soil. And on all sides a powerful, pungent odor was +diffused. +</p> +<p> +"Don't go too far," Marianne called to the children; "we shall stay under +this oak. We will have something to eat by and by." +</p> +<p> +Blaise and Denis were already bounding along, followed by Ambroise, to +see who could run the fastest; but Rose pettishly called them back, for +she preferred to play at gathering wild flowers. The open air fairly +intoxicated the youngsters; the herbage rose, here and there, to their +very shoulders. But they came back and gathered flowers; and after a time +they set off at a wild run once more, one of the big brothers carrying +the little sister on his back. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu, however, had remained absent-minded, with his eyes wandering +hither and thither, throughout their walk. At times he did not hear +Marianne when she spoke to him; he lapsed into reverie before some +uncultivated tract, some copse overrun with brushwood, some spring which +suddenly bubbled up and was then lost in mire. Nevertheless, she felt +that there was no sadness nor feeling of indifference in his heart; for +as soon as he returned to her he laughed once more with his soft, loving +laugh. It was she who often sent him roaming about the country, even +alone, for she felt that it would do him good; and although she had +guessed that something very serious was passing through his mind, she +retained full confidence, waiting till it should please him to speak to +her. +</p> +<p> +Now, however, just as he had sunk once more into his reverie, his glance +wandering afar, studying the great varied expanse of land, she raised a +light cry: "Oh! look, look!" +</p> +<p> +Under the big oak tree she had placed Master Gervais in his little +carriage, among wild weeds which hid its wheels. And while she handed a +little silver mug, from which it was intended they should drink while +taking their snack, she had noticed that the child raised his head and +followed the movement of her hand, in which the silver sparkled beneath +the sun-rays. Forthwith she repeated the experiment, and again the +child's eyes followed the starry gleam. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! it can't be said that I'm mistaken, and am simply fancying it!" she +exclaimed. "It is certain that he can see quite plainly now. My pretty +pet, my little darling!" +</p> +<p> +She darted to the child to kiss him in celebration of that first clear +glance. And then, too, came the delight of the first smile. +</p> +<p> +"Why, look!" in his turn said Mathieu, who was leaning over the child +beside her, yielding to the same feeling of rapture, "there he is smiling +at you now. But of course, as soon as these little fellows see clearly +they begin to laugh." +</p> +<p> +She herself burst into a laugh. "You are right, he is laughing! Ah! how +funny he looks, and how happy I am!" +</p> +<p> +Both father and mother laughed together with content at the sight of that +infantile smile, vague and fleeting, like a faint ripple on the pure +water of some spring. +</p> +<p> +Amid this joy Marianne called the four others, who were bounding under +the young foliage around them: "Come, Rose! come, Ambroise! come, Blaise +and Denis! It's time now; come at once to have something to eat." +</p> +<p> +They hastened up and the snack was set out on a patch of soft grass. +Mathieu unhooked the basket which hung in front of the baby's little +vehicle; and Marianne, having drawn some slices of bread-and-butter from +it, proceeded to distribute them. Perfect silence ensued while all four +children began biting with hearty appetite, which it was a pleasure to +see. But all at once a scream arose. It came from Master Gervais, who was +vexed at not having been served first. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! yes, it's true I was forgetting you," said Marianne gayly; "you +shall have your share. There, open your mouth, you darling;" and, with an +easy, simple gesture, she unfastened her dress-body; and then, under the +sunlight which steeped her in golden radiance, in full view of the +far-spreading countryside, where all likewise was bare—the soil, the +trees, the plants, streaming with sap—having seated herself in the +long grass, where she almost disappeared amid the swarming growth of +April's germs, the babe on her breast eagerly sucked in her warm milk, even +as all the encompassing verdure was sucking life from the soil. +</p> +<p> +"How hungry you are!" she exclaimed. "Don't pinch me so hard, you little +glutton!" +</p> +<p> +Meantime Mathieu had remained standing amid the enchantment of the +child's first smile and the gayety born of the hearty hunger around him. +Then his dream of creation came back to him, and he at last gave voice to +those plans for the future which haunted him, and of which he had so far +spoken to nobody: "Ah, well, it is high time that I should set to work +and found a kingdom, if these children are to have enough soup to make +them grow. Shall I tell you what I've thought—shall I tell you?" +</p> +<p> +Marianne raised her eyes, smiling and all attention. "Yes, tell me your +secret if the time has come. Oh! I could guess that you had some great +hope in you. But I did not ask you anything; I preferred to wait." +</p> +<p> +He did not give a direct reply, for at a sudden recollection his feelings +rebelled. "That Lepailleur," said he, "is simply a lazy fellow and a fool +in spite of all his cunning airs. Can there be any more sacrilegious +folly than to imagine that the earth has lost her fruitfulness and is +becoming bankrupt—she, the eternal mother, eternal life? She only +shows herself a bad mother to her bad sons, the malicious, the obstinate, +and the dull-witted, who do not know how to love and cultivate her. But if +an intelligent son comes and devotes himself to her, and works her with the +help of experience and all the new systems of science, you will soon see +her quicken and yield tremendous harvests unceasingly. Ah! folks say in +the district that this estate of Chantebled has never yielded and never +will yield anything but nettles. Well, nevertheless, a man will come who +will transform it and make it a new land of joy and abundance." +</p> +<p> +Then, suddenly turning round, with outstretched arm, and pointing to the +spots to which he referred in turn, he went on: "Yonder in the rear there +are nearly five hundred acres of little woods, stretching as far as the +farms of Mareuil and Lillebonne. They are separated by clearings of +excellent soil which broad gaps unite, and which could easily be turned +into good pastures, for there are numerous springs. And, indeed, the +springs become so abundant on the right, that they have changed that big +plateau into a kind of marshland, dotted with ponds, and planted with +reeds and rushes. But picture a man of bold mind, a clearer, a conqueror, +who should drain those lands and rid them of superfluous water by means +of a few canals which might easily be dug! Why, then a huge stretch of +land would be reclaimed, handed over to cultivation, and wheat would grow +there with extraordinary vigor. But that is not all. There is the expanse +before us, those gentle slopes from Janville to Vieux-Bourg, that is +another five hundred acres, which are left almost uncultivated on account +of their dryness, the stony poverty of their soil. So it is all very +simple. One would merely have to take the sources up yonder, the waters, +now stagnant, and carry them across those sterile slopes, which, when +irrigated, would gradually develop extraordinary fertility. I have seen +everything, I have studied everything. I feel that there are at least +twelve hundred acres of land which a bold creator might turn into a most +productive estate. Yonder lies a whole kingdom of corn, a whole new world +to be created by labor, with the help of the beneficent waters and our +father the sun, the source of eternal life." +</p> +<p> +Marianne gazed at him and admired him as he stood there quivering, +pondering over all that he evoked from his dream. But she was frightened +by the vastness of such hopes, and could not restrain a cry of +disquietude and prudence. +</p> +<p> +"No, no, that is too much; you desire the impossible. How can you think +that we shall ever possess so much—that our fortune will spread over +the entire region? Think of the capital, the arms that would be needed for +such a conquest!" +</p> +<p> +For a moment Mathieu remained silent on thus suddenly being brought back +to reality. Then with his affectionate, sensible air, he began to laugh. +"You are right; I have been dreaming and talking wildly," he replied. "I +am not yet so ambitious as to wish to be King of Chantebled. But there is +truth in what I have said to you; and, besides, what harm can there be in +dreaming of great plans to give oneself faith and courage? Meantime I +intend to try cultivating just a few acres, which Séguin will no doubt +sell me cheaply enough, together with the little pavilion in which we +live. I know that the unproductiveness of the estate weighs on him. And, +later on, we shall see if the earth is disposed to love us and come to us +as we go to her. Ah well, my dear, give that little glutton plenty of +life, and you, my darlings, eat and drink and grow in strength, for the +earth belongs to those who are healthy and numerous." +</p> +<p> +Blaise and Denis made answer by taking some fresh slices of +bread-and-butter, while Rose drained the mug of wine and water which +Ambroise handed her. And Marianne sat there like the symbol of blossoming +Fruitfulness, the source of vigor and conquest, while Gervais heartily +nursed on. He pulled so hard, indeed, that one could hear the sound of +his lips. It was like the faint noise which attends the rise of a +spring—a slender rill of milk that is to swell and become a river. +Around her the mother heard that source springing up and spreading on all +sides. She was not nourishing alone: the sap of April was dilating the +land, sending a quiver through the woods, raising the long herbage which +embowered her. And beneath her, from the bosom of the earth, which was +ever in travail, she felt that flood of sap reaching and ever pervading +her. And it was like a stream of milk flowing through the world, a stream +of eternal life for humanity's eternal crop. And on that gay day of +spring the dazzling, singing, fragrant countryside was steeped in it all, +triumphal with that beauty of the mother, who, in the full light of the +sun, in view of the vast horizon, sat there nursing her child. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="VIII">VIII</a></h4> + +<p> +ON the morrow, after a morning's hard toil at his office at the works, +Mathieu, having things well advanced, bethought himself of going to see +Norine at Madame Bourdieu's. He knew that she had given birth to a child +a fortnight previously, and he wished to ascertain the exact state of +affairs, in order to carry to an end the mission with which Beauchêne had +intrusted him. As the other, however, had never again spoken to him on +the subject, he simply told him that he was going out in the afternoon, +without indicating the motive of his absence. At the same time he knew +what secret relief Beauchêne would experience when he at last learnt that +the whole business was at an end—the child cast adrift and the mother +following her own course. +</p> +<p> +On reaching the Rue de Miromesnil, Mathieu had to go up to Norine's room, +for though she was to leave the house on the following Thursday, she +still kept her bed. And at the foot of the bedstead, asleep in a cradle, +he was surprised to see the infant, of which, he thought, she had already +rid herself. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! is it you?" she joyously exclaimed. "I was about to write to you, +for I wanted to see you before going away. My little sister here would +have taken you the letter." +</p> +<p> +Cécile Moineaud was indeed there, together with the younger girl, Irma. +The mother, unable to absent herself from her household duties, had sent +them to make inquiries, and give Norine three big oranges, which +glistened on the table beside the bed. The little girls had made the +journey on foot, greatly interested by all the sights of the streets and +the displays in the shop-windows. And now they were enraptured with the +fine house in which they found their big sister sojourning, and full of +curiosity with respect to the baby which slept under the cradle's muslin +curtains. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu made the usual inquiries of Norine, who answered him gayly, but +pouted somewhat at the prospect of having so soon to leave the house, +where she had found herself so comfortable. +</p> +<p> +"We shan't easily find such soft mattresses and such good food, eh, +Victoire?" she asked. Whereupon Mathieu perceived that another girl was +present, a pale little creature with wavy red hair, tip-tilted nose, and +long mouth, whom he had already seen there on the occasion of a previous +visit. She slept in one of the two other beds which the room contained, +and now sat beside it mending some linen. She was to leave the house on +the morrow, having already sent her child to the Foundling Hospital; and +in the meantime she was mending some things for Rosine, the well-to-do +young person of great beauty whom Mathieu had previously espied, and +whose story, according to Norine, was so sadly pathetic. +</p> +<p> +Victoire ceased sewing and raised her head. She was a servant girl by +calling, one of those unlucky creatures who are overtaken by trouble when +they have scarce arrived in the great city from their native village. +"Well," said she, "it's quite certain that one won't be able to dawdle in +bed, and that one won't have warm milk given one to drink before getting +up. But, all the same, it isn't lively to see nothing but that big gray +wall yonder from the window. And, besides, one can't go on forever doing +nothing." +</p> +<p> +Norine laughed and jerked her head, as if she were not of this opinion. +Then, as her little sisters embarrassed her, she wished to get rid of +them. +</p> +<p> +"And so, my pussies," said she, "you say that papa's still angry with me, +and that I'm not to go back home." +</p> +<p> +"Oh!" cried Cécile, "it's not so much that he's angry, but he says that +all the neighbors would point their fingers at him if he let you come +home. Besides, Euphrasie keeps his anger up, particularly since she's +arranged to get married." +</p> +<p> +"What! Euphrasie going to be married? You didn't tell me that." +</p> +<p> +Norine looked very vexed, particularly when her sisters, speaking both +together, told her that the future husband was Auguste Bénard, a jovial +young mason who lived on the floor above them. He had taken a fancy to +Euphrasie, though she had no good looks, and was as thin, at eighteen, as +a grasshopper. Doubtless, however, he considered her strong and +hard-working. +</p> +<p> +"Much good may it do them!" said Norine spitefully. "Why, with her evil +temper, she'll be beating him before six months are over. You can just +tell mamma that I don't care a rap for any of you, and that I need +nobody. I'll go and look for work, and I'll find somebody to help me. So, +you hear, don't you come back here. I don't want to be bothered by you +any more." +</p> +<p> +At this, Irma, but eight years old and tender-hearted, began to cry. "Why +do you scold us? We didn't come to worry you. I wanted to ask you, too, +if that baby's yours, and if we may kiss it before we go away." +</p> +<p> +Norine immediately regretted her spiteful outburst. She once more called +the girls her "little pussies," kissed them tenderly, and told them that +although they must run away now they might come back another day to see +her if it amused them. "Thank mamma from me for her oranges. And as for +the baby, well, you may look at it, but you mustn't touch it, for if it +woke up we shouldn't be able to hear ourselves." +</p> +<p> +Then, as the two children leant inquisitively over the cradle, Mathieu +also glanced at it, and saw a healthy, sturdy-looking child, with a +square face and strong features. And it seemed to him that the infant was +singularly like Beauchêne. +</p> +<p> +At that moment, however, Madame Bourdieu came in, accompanied by a woman, +whom he recognized as Sophie Couteau, "La Couteau," that nurse-agent whom +he had seen at the Séguins' one day when she had gone thither to offer to +procure them a nurse. She also certainly recognized this gentleman, whose +wife, proud of being able to suckle her own children, had evinced such +little inclination to help others to do business. She pretended, however, +that she saw him for the first time; for she was discreet by profession +and not even inquisitive, since so many matters were ever coming to her +knowledge without the asking. +</p> +<p> +Little Cécile and little Irma went off at once; and then Madame Bourdieu, +addressing Norine, inquired: "Well, my child, have you thought it over; +have you quite made up your mind about that poor little darling, who is +sleeping there so prettily? Here is the person I spoke to you about. She +comes from Normandy every fortnight, bringing nurses to Paris; and each +time she takes babies away with her to put them out to nurse in the +country. Though you say you won't feed it, you surely need not cast off +your child altogether; you might confide it to this person until you are +in a position to take it back. Or else, if you have made up your mind to +abandon it altogether, she will kindly take it to the Foundling Hospital +at once." +</p> +<p> +Great perturbation had come over Norine, who let her head fall back on +her pillow, over which streamed her thick fair hair, whilst her face +darkened and she stammered: "<i>Mon Dieu</i>, <i>mon Dieu</i>! you are +going to worry me again!" +</p> +<p> +Then she pressed her hands to her eyes as if anxious to see nothing more. +</p> +<p> +"This is what the regulations require of me, monsieur," said Madame +Bourdieu to Mathieu in an undertone, while leaving the young mother for a +moment to her reflections. "We are recommended to do all we can to +persuade our boarders, especially when they are situated like this one, +to nurse their infants. You are aware that this often saves not only the +child, but the mother herself, from the sad future which threatens her. +And so, however much she may wish to abandon the child, we leave it near +her as long as possible, and feed it with the bottle, in the hope that +the sight of the poor little creature may touch her heart and awaken +feelings of motherliness in her. Nine times out of ten, as soon as she +gives the child the breast, she is vanquished, and she keeps it. That is +why you still see this baby here." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu, feeling greatly moved, drew near to Norine, who still lay back +amid her streaming hair, with her hands pressed to her face. "Come," said +he, "you are a goodhearted girl, there is no malice in you. Why not +yourself keep that dear little fellow?" +</p> +<p> +Then she uncovered her burning, tearless face: "Did the father even come +to see me?" she asked bitterly. "I can't love the child of a man who has +behaved as he has! The mere thought that it's there, in that cradle, puts +me in a rage." +</p> +<p> +"But that dear little innocent isn't guilty. It's he whom you condemn, +yourself whom you punish, for now you will be quite alone, and he might +prove a great consolation." +</p> +<p> +"No, I tell you no, I won't. I can't keep a child like that with nobody +to help me. We all know what we can do, don't we? Well, it is of no use +my questioning myself. I'm not brave enough, I'm not stupid enough to do +such a thing. No, no, and no." +</p> +<p> +He said no more, for he realized that nothing would prevail over that +thirst for liberty which she felt in the depths of her being. With a +gesture he expressed his sadness, but he was neither indignant nor angry +with her, for others had made her what she was. +</p> +<p> +"Well, it's understood, you won't be forced to feed it," resumed Madame +Bourdieu, attempting a final effort. "But it isn't praiseworthy to +abandon the child. Why not trust it to Madame here, who would put it out +to nurse, so that you would be able to take it back some day, when you +have found work? It wouldn't cost much, and no doubt the father would +pay." +</p> +<p> +This time Norine flew into a passion. "He! pay? Ah! you don't know him. +It's not that the money would inconvenience him, for he's a millionnaire. +But all he wants is to see the little one disappear. If he had dared he +would have told me to kill it! Just ask that gentleman if I speak the +truth. You see that he keeps silent! And how am I to pay when I haven't a +copper, when to-morrow I shall be cast out-of-doors, perhaps, without +work and without bread. No, no, a thousand times no, I can't!" +</p> +<p> +Then, overcome by an hysterical fit of despair, she burst into sobs. "I +beg you, leave me in peace. For the last fortnight you have been +torturing me with that child, by keeping him near me, with the idea that +I should end by nursing him. You bring him to me, and set him on my +knees, so that I may look at him and kiss him. You are always worrying me +with him, and making him cry with the hope that I shall pity him and take +him to my breast. But, <i>mon Dieu</i>! can't you understand that if I turn +my head away, if I don't want to kiss him or even to see him, it is because +I'm afraid of being caught and loving him like a big fool, which would be +a great misfortune both for him and for me? He'll be far happier by +himself! So, I beg you, let him be taken away at once, and don't torture +me any more." +</p> +<p> +Sobbing violently, she again sank back in bed, and buried her dishevelled +head in the pillows. +</p> +<p> +La Couteau had remained waiting, mute and motionless, at the foot of the +bedstead. In her gown of dark woollen stuff and her black cap trimmed +with yellow ribbons she retained the air of a peasant woman in her Sunday +best. And she strove to impart an expression of compassionate good-nature +to her long, avaricious, false face. Although it seemed to her unlikely +that business would ensue, she risked a repetition of her customary +speech. +</p> +<p> +"At Rougemont, you know, madame, your little one would be just the same +as at home. There's no better air in the Department; people come there +from Bayeux to recruit their health. And if you only knew how well the +little ones are cared for! It's the only occupation of the district, to +have little Parisians to coddle and love! And, besides, I wouldn't charge +you dear. I've a friend of mine who already has three nurslings, and, as +she naturally brings them up with the bottle, it wouldn't put her out to +take a fourth for almost next to nothing. Come, doesn't that suit +you—doesn't that tempt you?" +</p> +<p> +When, however, she saw that tears were Norine's only answer, she made an +impatient gesture like an active woman who cannot afford to lose her +time. At each of her fortnightly journeys, as soon as she had rid herself +of her batch of nurses at the different offices, she hastened round the +nurses' establishments to pick up infants, so as to take the train +homewards the same evening together with two or three women who, as she +put it, helped her "to cart the little ones about." On this occasion she +was in a greater hurry, as Madame Bourdieu, who employed her in a variety +of ways, had asked her to take Norine's child to the Foundling Hospital +if she did not take it to Rougemont. +</p> +<p> +"And so," said La Couteau, turning to Madame Bourdieu, "I shall have only +the other lady's child to take back with me. Well, I had better see her +at once to make final arrangements. Then I'll take this one and carry it +yonder as fast as possible, for my train starts at six o'clock." +</p> +<p> +When La Couteau and Madame Bourdieu had gone off to speak to Rosine, who +was the "other lady" referred to, the room sank into silence save for the +wailing and sobbing of Norine. Mathieu had seated himself near the +cradle, gazing compassionately at the poor little babe, who was still +peacefully sleeping. Soon, however, Victoire, the little servant girl, +who had hitherto remained silent, as if absorbed in her sewing, broke the +heavy silence and talked on slowly and interminably without raising her +eyes from her needle. +</p> +<p> +"You were quite right in not trusting your child to that horrid woman!" +she began. "Whatever may be done with him at the hospital, he will be +better off there than in her hands. At least he will have a chance to +live. And that's why I insisted, like you, on having mine taken there at +once. You know I belong in that woman's region—yes, I come from +Berville, which is barely four miles from Rougemont, and I can't help +knowing La Couteau, for folks talk enough about her in our village. She's +a nice creature and no mistake! And it's a fine trade that she plies, +selling other people's milk. She was no better than she should be at one +time, but at last she was lucky enough to marry a big, coarse, brutal +fellow, whom at this time of day she leads by the nose. And he helps her. +Yes, he also brings nurses to Paris and takes babies back with him, at +busy times. But between them they have more murders on their consciences +than all the assassins that have ever been guillotined. The mayor of +Berville, a <i>bourgeois</i> who's retired from business and a worthy man, +said that Rougemont was the curse of the Department. I know well enough +that there's always been some rivalry between Rougemont and Berville; but, +the folks of Rougemont ply a wicked trade with the babies they get from +Paris. All the inhabitants have ended by taking to it, there's nothing +else doing in the whole village, and you should just see how things are +arranged so that there may be as many funerals as possible. Ah! yes, +people don't keep their stock-in-trade on their hands. The more that die, +the more they earn. And so one can understand that La Couteau always +wants to take back as many babies as possible at each journey she makes." +</p> +<p> +Victoire recounted these dreadful things in her simple way, as one whom +Paris has not yet turned into a liar, and who says all she knows, +careless what it may be. +</p> +<p> +"And it seems things were far worse years ago," she continued. "I have +heard my father say that, in his time, the agents would bring back four +or five children at one journey—perfect parcels of babies, which they +tied together and carried under their arms. They set them out in rows on +the seats in the waiting-rooms at the station; and one day, indeed, a +Rougemont agent forgot one child in a waiting-room, and there was quite a +row about it, because when the child was found again it was dead. And +then you should have seen in the trains what a heap of poor little things +there was, all crying with hunger. It became pitiable in winter time, +when there was snow and frost, for they were all shivering and blue with +cold in their scanty, ragged swaddling-clothes. One or another often died +on the way, and then it was removed at the next station and buried in the +nearest cemetery. And you can picture what a state those who didn't die +were in. At our place we care better for our pigs, for we certainly +wouldn't send them travelling in that fashion. My father used to say that +it was enough to make the very stones weep. Nowadays, however, there's +more supervision; the regulations allow the agents to take only one +nursling back at a time. But they know all sorts of tricks, and often +take a couple. And then, too, they make arrangements; they have women who +help them, and they avail themselves of those who may be going back into +the country alone. Yes, La Couteau has all sorts of tricks to evade the +law. And, besides, all the folks of Rougemont close their eyes—they +are too much interested in keeping business brisk; and all they fear is +that the police may poke their noses into their affairs. Ah! it is all very +well for the Government to send inspectors every month, and insist on +registers, and the Mayor's signature and the stamp of the Commune; why, +it's just as if it did nothing. It doesn't prevent these women from +quietly plying their trade and sending as many little ones as they can to +kingdom-come. We've got a cousin at Rougemont who said to us one day: 'La +Malivoire's precious lucky, she got rid of four more during last month.'" +</p> +<p> +Victoire paused for a moment to thread her needle. Norine was still +weeping, while Mathieu listened, mute with horror, and with his eyes +fixed upon the sleeping child. +</p> +<p> +"No doubt folks say less about Rougemont nowadays than they used to," the +girl resumed; "but there's still enough to disgust one. We know three or +four baby-farmers who are not worth their salt. The rule is to bring the +little ones up with the bottle, you know; and you'd be horrified if you +saw what bottles they are—never cleaned, always filthy, with the milk +inside them icy cold in the winter and sour in the summer. La Vimeux, for +her part, thinks that the bottle system costs too much, and so she feeds +her children on soup. That clears them off all the quicker. At La +Loiseau's you have to hold your nose when you go near the corner where the +little ones sleep—their rags are so filthy. As for La Gavette, she's +always working in the fields with her man, so that the three or four +nurslings that she generally has are left in charge of the grandfather, +an old cripple of seventy, who can't even prevent the fowls from coming +to peck at the little ones.<a name="FNanchor_5_1" id="FNanchor_5_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_1" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> And things are worse even at La Cauchois', +for, as she has nobody at all to mind the children when she goes out +working, she leaves them tied in their cradles, for fear lest they should +tumble out and crack their skulls. You might visit all the houses in the +village, and you would find the same thing everywhere. There isn't a +house where the trade isn't carried on. Round our part there are places +where folks make lace, or make cheese, or make cider; but at Rougemont +they only make dead bodies." +</p> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="nind"><a name="Footnote_5_1" id="Footnote_5_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_1"><span class="label">[5]</span></a>There is no exaggeration in what M. Zola writes on this +subject. I have even read in French Government reports of instances in +which nurslings have been devoured by pigs! And it is a well-known +saying in France that certain Norman and Touraine villages are +virtually "paved with little Parisians."—<i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<p> +All at once she ceased sewing, and looked at Mathieu with her timid, +clear eyes. +</p> +<p> +"But the worst of all," she continued, "is La Couillard, an old thief who +once did six months in prison, and who now lives a little way out of the +village on the verge of the wood. No live child has ever left La +Couillard's. That's her specialty. When you see an agent, like La +Couteau, for instance, taking her a child, you know at once what's in the +wind. La Couteau has simply bargained that the little one shall die. It's +settled in a very easy fashion: the parents give a sum of three or four +hundred francs on condition that the little one shall be kept till his +first communion, and you may be quite certain that he dies within a week. +It's only necessary to leave a window open near him, as a nurse used to +do whom my father knew. At winter time, when she had half a dozen babies +in her house, she would set the door wide open and then go out for a +stroll. And, by the way, that little boy in the next room, whom La +Couteau has just gone to see, she'll take him to La Couillard's, I'm +sure; for I heard the mother, Mademoiselle Rosine, agree with her the +other day to give her a sum of four hundred francs down on the +understanding that she should have nothing more to do in the matter." +</p> +<p> +At this point Victoire ceased speaking, for La Couteau came in to fetch +Norine's child. Norine, who had emerged from her distress during the +servant girl's stories, had ended by listening to them with great +interest. But directly she perceived the agent she once more hid her face +in her pillows, as though she feared to see what was about to happen. +Mathieu, on his side, had risen from his chair and stood there quivering. +</p> +<p> +"So it's understood, I'm going to take the child," said La Couteau. +"Madame Bourdieu has given me a slip of paper bearing the date of the +birth and the address. Only I ought to have some Christian names. What do +you wish the child to be called?" +</p> +<p> +Norine did not at first answer. Then, in a faint distressful voice, she +said: "Alexandre." +</p> +<p> +"Alexandre, very well. But you would do better to give the boy a second +Christian name, so as to identify him the more readily, if some day you +take it into your head to run after him." +</p> +<p> +It was again necessary to tear a reply from Norine. "Honoré," she said. +</p> +<p> +"Alexandre Honoré—all right. That last name is yours, is it not?<a name="FNanchor_6_1" id="FNanchor_6_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_1" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> And +the first is the father's? That is settled; and now I've everything I +need. Only it's four o'clock already, and I shall never get back in time +for the six o'clock train if I don't take a cab. It's such a long way +off—the other side of the Luxembourg. And a cab costs money. How +shall we manage?" +</p> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="nind"><a name="Footnote_6_1" id="Footnote_6_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_1"><span class="label">[6]</span></a>Norine is, of course, a diminutive of Honorine, which is the +feminine form of Honoré.—<i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<p> +While she continued whining, to see if she could not extract a few francs +from the distressed girl, it suddenly occurred to Mathieu to carry out +his mission to the very end by driving with her himself to the Foundling +Hospital, so that he might be in a position to inform Beauchêne that the +child had really been deposited there, in his presence. So he told La +Couteau that he would go down with her, take a cab, and bring her back. +</p> +<p> +"All right; that will suit me. Let us be off! It's a pity to wake the +little one, since he's so sound asleep; but all the same, we must pack +him off, since it's decided." +</p> +<p> +With her dry hands, which were used to handling goods of this +description, she caught up the child, perhaps, however, a little roughly, +forgetting her assumed wheedling good nature now that she was simply +charged with conveying it to hospital. And the child awoke and began to +scream loudly. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! dear me, it won't be amusing if he keeps up this music in the cab. +Quick, let us be off." +</p> +<p> +But Mathieu stopped her. "Won't you kiss him, Norine?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +At the very first squeal that sorry mother had dipped yet lower under her +sheets, carrying her hands to her ears, distracted as she was by the +sound of those cries. "No, no," she gasped, "take him away; take him away +at once. Don't begin torturing me again!" +</p> +<p> +Then she closed her eyes, and with one arm repulsed the child who seemed +to be pursuing her. But when she felt that the agent was laying him on +the bed, she suddenly shuddered, sat up, and gave a wild hasty kiss, +which lighted on the little fellow's cap. She had scarcely opened her +tear-dimmed eyes, and could have seen but a vague phantom of that poor +feeble creature, wailing and struggling at the decisive moment when he +was being cast into the unknown. +</p> +<p> +"You are killing me! Take him away; take him away!" +</p> +<p> +Once in the cab the child suddenly became silent. Either the jolting of +the vehicle calmed him, or the creaking of the wheels filled him with +emotion. La Couteau, who kept him on her knees, at first remained silent, +as if interested in the people on the footwalks, where the bright sun was +shining. Then, all of a sudden, she began to talk, venting her thoughts +aloud. +</p> +<p> +"That little woman made a great mistake in not trusting the child to me. +I should have put him out to nurse properly, and he would have grown up +finely at Rougemont. But there! they all imagine that we simply worry +them because we want to do business. But I just ask you, if she had +given me five francs for myself and paid my return journey, would that +have ruined her? A pretty girl like her oughtn't to be hard up for +money. I know very well that in our calling there are some people who +are hardly honest, who speculate and ask for commissions, and then put +out nurslings at cheap rates and rob both the parents and the nurse. +It's really not right to treat these dear little things as if they were +goods—poultry or vegetables. When folks do that I can understand +that their hearts get hardened, and that they pass the little ones on +from hand to hand without any more care than if they were +stock-in-trade. But then, monsieur, I'm an honest woman; I'm authorized +by the mayor of our village; I hold a certificate of morality, which I +can show to anybody. If ever you should come to Rougemont, just ask +after Sophie Couteau there. Folks will tell you that I'm a hard-working +woman, and don't owe a copper to a soul!" +</p> +<p> +Mathieu could not help looking at her to see how unblushingly she thus +praised herself. And her speech struck him as if it were a premeditated +reply to all that Victoire had related of her, for, with the keen scent +of a shrewd peasant woman, she must have guessed that charges had been +brought against her. When she felt that his piercing glance was diving to +her very soul, she doubtless feared that she had not lied with sufficient +assurance, and had somehow negligently betrayed herself; for she did not +insist, but put on more gentleness of manner, and contented herself with +praising Rougemont in a general way, saying what a perfect paradise it +was, where the little ones were received, fed, cared for, and coddled as +if they were all sons of princes. Then, seeing that the gentleman uttered +never a word, she became silent once more. It was evidently useless to +try to win him over. And meantime the cab rolled and rolled along; +streets followed streets, ever noisy and crowded; and they crossed the +Seine and at last drew near to the Luxembourg. It was only after passing +the palace gardens that La Couteau again began: +</p> +<p> +"Well, it's that young person's own affair if she imagines that her child +will be better off for passing through the Foundling. I don't attack the +Administration, but you know, monsieur, there's a good deal to be said on +the matter. At Rougemont we have a number of nurslings that it sends us, +and they don't grow any better or die less frequently than the others. +Well, well, people are free to act as they fancy; but all the same I +should like you to know, as I do, all that goes on in there." +</p> +<p> +The cab had stopped at the top of the Rue Denfert-Rochereau, at a short +distance from the former outer Boulevard. A big gray wall stretched out, +the frigid façade of a State establishment, and it was through a quiet, +simple, unobtrusive little doorway at the end of this wall that La +Couteau went in with the child. Mathieu followed her, but he did not +enter the office where a woman received the children. He felt too much +emotion, and feared lest he should be questioned; it was, indeed, as if +he considered himself an accomplice in a crime. Though La Couteau told +him that the woman would ask him nothing, and the strictest secrecy was +always observed, he preferred to wait in an anteroom, which led to +several closed compartments, where the persons who came to deposit +children were placed to wait their turn. And he watched the woman go off, +carrying the little one, who still remained extremely well behaved, with +a vacant stare in his big eyes. +</p> +<p> +Though the interval of waiting could not have lasted more than twenty +minutes, it seemed terribly long to Mathieu. Lifeless quietude reigned in +that stern, sad-looking anteroom, wainscoted with oak, and pervaded with +the smell peculiar to hospitals. All he heard was the occasional faint +wail of some infant, above which now and then rose a heavy, restrained +sob, coming perhaps from some mother who was waiting in one of the +adjoining compartments. And he recalled the "slide" of other days, the +box which turned within the wall. The mother crept up, concealing herself +much as possible from view, thrust her baby into the cavity as into an +oven, gave a tug at the bell-chain, and then precipitately fled. Mathieu +was too young to have seen the real thing; he had only seen it +represented in a melodrama at the Port St. Martin Theatre.<a name="FNanchor_7_1" id="FNanchor_7_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_1" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> But how many +stories it recalled—hampers of poor little creatures brought up from +the provinces and deposited at the hospital by carriers; the stolen babes +of Duchesses, here cast into oblivion by suspicious-looking men; the +hundreds of wretched work-girls too who had here rid themselves of their +unfortunate children. Now, however, the children had to be deposited +openly, and there was a staff which took down names and dates, while +giving a pledge of inviolable secrecy. Mathieu was aware that some few +people imputed to the suppression of the slide system the great increase +in criminal offences. But each day public opinion condemns more and more +the attitude of society in former times, and discards the idea that one +must accept evil, dam it in, and hide it as if it were some necessary +sewer; for the only course for a free community to pursue is to foresee +evil and grapple with it, and destroy it in the bud. To diminish the +number of cast-off children one must seek out the mothers, encourage +them, succor them, and give them the means to be mothers in fact as well +as in name. At that moment, however, Mathieu did not reason; it was his +heart that was affected, filled with growing pity and anguish at the +thought of all the crime, all the shame, all the grief and distress that +had passed through that anteroom in which he stood. What terrible +confessions must have been heard, what a procession of suffering, +ignominy, and wretchedness must have been witnessed by that woman who +received the children in her mysterious little office! To her all the +wreckage of the slums, all the woe lying beneath gilded life, all the +abominations, all the tortures that remain unknown, were carried. There +in her office was the port for the shipwrecked, there the black hole that +swallowed up the offspring of frailty and shame. And while Mathieu's +spell of waiting continued he saw three poor creatures arrive at the +hospital. One was surely a work-girl, delicate and pretty though she +looked, so thin, so pale too, and with so wild an air that he remembered +a paragraph he had lately read in a newspaper, recounting how another +such girl, after forsaking her child, had thrown herself into the river. +The second seemed to him to be a married woman, some workman's wife, no +doubt, overburdened with children and unable to provide food for another +mouth; while the third was tall, strong, and insolent,—one of those +who bring three or four children to the hospital one after the other. And +all three women plunged in, and he heard them being penned in separate +compartments by an attendant, while he, with stricken heart, realizing +how heavily fate fell on some, still stood there waiting. +</p> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="nind"><a name="Footnote_7_1" id="Footnote_7_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_1"><span class="label">[7]</span></a>The "slide" system, which enabled a mother to deposit her +child at the hospital without being seen by those within, ceased to be +employed officially as far back as 1847; but the apparatus was +long preserved intact, and I recollect seeing it in the latter +years of the Second Empire, <i>cir.</i> 1867-70, when I was often at +the artists' studios in the neighborhood. The aperture through +which children were deposited in the sliding-box was close to +the little door of which M. Zola speaks.—<i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<p> +When La Couteau at last reappeared with empty arms she said never a word, +and Mathieu put no question to her. Still in silence, they took their +seats in the cab; and only some ten minutes afterwards, when the vehicle +was already rolling through bustling, populous streets, did the woman +begin to laugh. Then, as her companion, still silent and distant, did not +condescend to ask her the cause of her sudden gayety, she ended by saying +aloud: +</p> +<p> +"Do you know why I am laughing? If I kept you waiting a bit longer, it +was because I met a friend of mine, an attendant in the house, just as I +left the office. She's one of those who put the babies out to nurse in +the provinces.<a name="FNanchor_8_1" id="FNanchor_8_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_1" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> Well, my friend told me that she was going to Rougemont +to-morrow with two other attendants, and that among others they would +certainly have with them the little fellow I had just left at the +hospital." +</p> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="nind"><a name="Footnote_8_1" id="Footnote_8_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_1"><span class="label">[8]</span></a>There are only about 600 beds at the Hôpital des Enfants +Assistés, and the majority of the children deposited there +are perforce placed out to purse in the country.—<i>Trans.</i></p></div> + +<p> +Again did she give vent to a dry laugh which distorted her wheedling +face. And she continued: "How comical, eh? The mother wouldn't let me +take the child to Rougemont, and now it's going there just the same. Ah! +some things are bound to happen in spite of everything." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu did not answer, but an icy chill had sped through his heart. It +was true, fate pitilessly took its own course. What would become of that +poor little fellow? To what early death, what life of suffering or +wretchedness, or even crime, had he been thus brutally cast? +</p> +<p> +But the cab continued rolling on, and for a long while neither Mathieu +nor La Couteau spoke again. It was only when the latter alighted in the +Rue de Miromesnil that she began to lament, on seeing that it was already +half-past five o'clock, for she felt certain that she would miss her +train, particularly as she still had some accounts to settle and that +other child upstairs to fetch. Mathieu, who had intended to keep the cab +and drive to the Northern terminus, then experienced a feeling of +curiosity, and thought of witnessing the departure of the nurse-agents. +So he calmed La Couteau by telling her that if she would make haste he +would wait for her. And as she asked for a quarter of an hour, it +occurred to him to speak to Norine again, and so he also went upstairs. +</p> +<p> +When he entered Norine's room he found her sitting up in bed, eating one +of the oranges which her little sisters had brought her. She had all the +greedy instincts of a plump, pretty girl; she carefully detached each +section of the orange, and, her eyes half closed the while, her flesh +quivering under her streaming outspread hair, she sucked one after +another with her fresh red lips, like a pet cat lapping a cup of milk. +Mathieu's sudden entry made her start, however, and when she recognized +him she smiled faintly in an embarrassed way. +</p> +<p> +"It's done," he simply said. +</p> +<p> +She did not immediately reply, but wiped her fingers on her handkerchief. +However, it was necessary that she should say something, and so she +began: "You did not tell me you would come back—I was not expecting +you. Well, it's done, and it's all for the best. I assure you there was no +means of doing otherwise." +</p> +<p> +Then she spoke of her departure, asked the young man if he thought she +might regain admittance to the works, and declared that in any case she +should go there to see if the master would have the audacity to turn her +away. Thus she continued while the minutes went slowly by. The +conversation had dropped, Mathieu scarcely replying to her, when La +Couteau, carrying the other child in her arms, at last darted in like a +gust of wind. "Let's make haste, let's make haste!" she cried. "They +never end with their figures; they try all they can to leave me without a +copper for myself!" +</p> +<p> +But Norine detained her, asking: "Oh! is that Rosine's baby? Pray do show +it me." Then she uncovered the infant's face, and exclaimed: "Oh! how +plump and pretty he is!" And she began another sentence: "What a pity! +Can one have the heart—" But then she remembered, paused, and changed +her words: "Yes, how heartrending it is when one has to forsake such +little angels." +</p> +<p> +"Good-by! Take care of yourself!" cried La Couteau; "you will make me +miss my train. And I've got the return tickets, too; the five others are +waiting for me at the station! Ah! what a fuss they would make if I got +there too late!" +</p> +<p> +Then, followed by Mathieu, she hurried away, bounding down the stairs, +where she almost fell with her little burden. But soon she threw herself +back in the cab, which rolled off. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! that's a good job! And what do you say of that young person, +monsieur? She wouldn't lay out fifteen francs a month on her own account, +and yet she reproaches that good Mademoiselle Rosine, who has just given +me four hundred francs to have her little one taken care of till his +first communion. Just look at him—a superb child, isn't he? What a +pity it is that the finest are often those who die the first." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu looked at the infant on the woman's knees. His garments were very +white, of fine texture, trimmed with lace, as if he were some little +condemned prince being taken in all luxury to execution. And the young +man remembered that Norine had told him that the child was the offspring +of crime. Born amid secrecy, he was now, for a fixed sum, to be handed +over to a woman who would quietly suppress him by simply leaving some +door or window wide open. Young though the boy was, he already had a +finely-formed face, that suggested the beauty of a cherub. And he was +very well behaved; he did not raise the faintest wail. But a shudder +swept through Mathieu. How abominable! +</p> +<p> +La Couteau quickly sprang from the cab as soon as they reached the +courtyard of the St. Lazare Station. "Thank you, monsieur, you have been +very kind," said she. "And if you will kindly recommend me to any ladies +you may know, I shall be quite at their disposal." +</p> +<p> +Then Mathieu, having alighted on the pavement in his turn, saw a scene +which detained him there a few moments longer. Amid all the scramble of +passengers and luggage, five women of peasant aspect, each carrying an +infant, were darting in a scared, uneasy way hither and thither, like +crows in trouble, with big yellow beaks quivering and black wings +flapping with anxiety. Then, on perceiving La Couteau, there was one +general caw, and all five swooped down upon her with angry, voracious +mien. And, after a furious exchange of cries and explanations, the six +banded themselves together, and, with cap-strings waving and skirts +flying, rushed towards the train, carrying the little ones, like birds of +prey who feared delay in returning to the charnel-house. +</p> +<p> +And Mathieu remained alone in the great crowd. Thus every year did these +crows of ill omen carry off from Paris no fewer than 20,000 children, who +were never, never seen again! Ah! that great question of the depopulation +of France! Not merely were there those who were resolved to have no +children, not only were infanticide and crime of other kinds rife upon +all sides, but one-half of the babes saved from those dangers were +killed. Thieves and murderesses, eager for lucre, flocked to the great +city from the four points of the compass, and bore away all the budding +Life that their arms could carry in order that they might turn it to +Death! They beat down the game, they watched in the doorways, they +sniffed from afar the innocent flesh on which they preyed. And the babes +were carted to the railway stations; the cradles, the wards of hospitals +and refuges, the wretched garrets of poor mothers, without fires and +without bread—all, all were emptied! And the packages were heaped up, +moved carelessly hither and thither, sent off, distributed to be murdered +either by foul deed or by neglect. The raids swept on like tempest +blasts; Death's scythe never knew dead season, at every hour it mowed +down budding life. Children who might well have lived were taken from +their mothers, the only nurses whose milk would have nourished them, to +be carted away and to die for lack of proper nutriment. +</p> +<p> +A rush of blood warmed Mathieu's heart when, all at once, he thought of +Marianne, so strong and healthy, who would be waiting for him on the +bridge over the Yeuse, in the open country, with their little Gervais at +her breast. Figures that he had seen in print came back to his mind. In +certain regions which devoted themselves to baby-farming the mortality +among the nurslings was fifty per cent; in the best of them it was forty, +and seventy in the worst. It was calculated that in one century seventeen +millions of nurslings had died. Over a long period the mortality had +remained at from one hundred to one hundred and twenty thousand per +annum. The most deadly reigns, the greatest butcheries of the most +terrible conquerors, had never resulted in such massacre. It was a giant +battle that France lost every year, the abyss into which her whole +strength sank, the charnel-place into which every hope was cast. At the +end of it is the imbecile death of the nation. And Mathieu, seized with +terror at the thought, rushed away, eager to seek consolation by the side +of Marianne, amid the peacefulness, the wisdom, and the health which were +their happy lot. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="IX">IX</a></h4> + +<p> +ONE Thursday morning Mathieu went to lunch with Dr. Boutan in the rooms +where the latter had resided for more than ten years, in the Rue de +l'Université, behind the Palais-Bourbon. By a contradiction, at which +he himself often laughed, this impassioned apostle of fruitfulness had +remained a bachelor. His extensive practice kept him in a perpetual +hurry, and he had little time free beyond his <i>déjeuner</i> hour. +Accordingly, whenever a friend wished to have any serious conversation +with him, he preferred to invite him to his modest table, to partake +more or less hastily of an egg, a cutlet, and a cup of coffee. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu wished to ask the doctor's advice on a grave subject. After a +couple of weeks' reflection, his idea of experimenting in agriculture, of +extricating that unappreciated estate of Chantebled from chaos, +preoccupied him to such a degree that he positively suffered at not +daring to come to a decision. The imperious desire to create, to produce +life, health, strength, and wealth grew within him day by day. Yet what +fine courage and what a fund of hope he needed to venture upon an +enterprise which outwardly seemed so wild and rash, and the wisdom of +which was apparent to himself alone. With whom could he discuss such a +matter, to whom could he confide his doubts and hesitation? When the idea +of consulting Boutan occurred to him, he at once asked the doctor for an +appointment. Here was such a confidant as he desired, a man of broad, +brave mind, one who worshipped life, who was endowed with far-seeing +intelligence, and who would therefore at once look beyond the first +difficulties of execution. +</p> +<p> +As soon as they were face to face on either side of the table, Mathieu +began to pour forth his confession, recounting his dream—his poem, +as he called it. And the doctor listened without interrupting, evidently +won over by the young man's growing, creative emotion. When at last +Boutan had to express an opinion he replied: "<i>Mon Dieu</i>, my +friend, I can tell you nothing from a practical point of view, for I +have never even planted a lettuce. I will even add that your project +seems to me so hazardous that any one versed in these matters whom you +might consult would assuredly bring forward substantial and convincing +arguments to dissuade you. But you speak of this affair with such superb +confidence and ardor and affection, that I feel convinced you would +succeed. Moreover, you flatter my own views, for I have long endeavored +to show that, if numerous families are ever to flourish again in France, +people must again love and worship the soil, and desert the towns, and +lead a fruitful fortifying country life. So how can I disapprove your +plans? Moreover, I suspect that, like all people who ask advice, you +simply came here in the hope that you would find in me a brother ready, +in principle at all events, to wage the same battle." +</p> +<p> +At this they both laughed heartily. Then, on Boutan inquiring with what +capital he would start operations, Mathieu quietly explained that he did +not mean to borrow money and thus run into debt; he would begin, if +necessary, with very few acres indeed, convinced as he was of the +conquering power of labor. His would be the head, and he would assuredly +find the necessary arms. His only worry was whether he would be able to +induce Séguin to sell him the old hunting-box and the few acres round it +on a system of yearly payments, without preliminary disbursement. When he +spoke to the doctor on this subject, the other replied: +</p> +<p> +"Oh! I think he is very favorably disposed. I know that he would be +delighted to sell that huge, unprofitable estate, for with his increasing +pecuniary wants he is very much embarrassed by it. You are aware, no +doubt, that things are going from bad to worse in his household." +</p> +<p> +Then the doctor broke off to inquire: "And our friend Beauchêne, have you +warned him of your intention to leave the works?" +</p> +<p> +"Why, no, not yet," said Mathieu; "and I would ask you to keep the matter +private, for I wish to have everything settled before informing him." +</p> +<p> +Lunching quickly, they had now got to their coffee, and the doctor +offered to drive Mathieu back to the works, as he was going there +himself, for Madame Beauchêne had requested him to call once a week, in +order that he might keep an eye on Maurice's health. Not only did the lad +still suffer from his legs, but he had so weak and delicate a stomach +that he had to be dieted severely. +</p> +<p> +"It's the kind of stomach one finds among children who have not been +brought up by their own mothers," continued Boutan. "Your plucky wife +doesn't know that trouble; she can let her children eat whatever they +fancy. But with that poor little Maurice, the merest trifle, such as four +cherries instead of three, provokes indigestion. Well, so it is settled, +I will drive you back to the works. Only I must first make a call in the +Rue Roquépine to choose a nurse. It won't take me long, I hope. Quick! +let us be off." +</p> +<p> +When they were together in the brougham, Boutan told Mathieu that it was +precisely for the Séguins that he was going to the nurse-agency. There +was a terrible time at the house in the Avenue d'Antin. A few months +previously Valentine had given birth to a daughter, and her husband had +obstinately resolved to select a fit nurse for the child himself, +pretending that he knew all about such matters. And he had chosen a big, +sturdy young woman of monumental appearance. Nevertheless, for two months +past Andrée, the baby, had been pining away, and the doctor had +discovered, by analyzing the nurse's milk, that it was deficient in +nutriment. Thus the child was simply perishing of starvation. To change a +nurse is a terrible thing, and the Séguins' house was in a tempestuous +state. The husband rushed hither and thither, banging the doors and +declaring that he would never more occupy himself about anything. +</p> +<p> +"And so," added Boutan, "I have now been instructed to choose a fresh +nurse. And it is a pressing matter, for I am really feeling anxious about +that poor little Andrée." +</p> +<p> +"But why did not the mother nurse her child?" asked Mathieu. +</p> +<p> +The doctor made a gesture of despair. "Ah! my dear fellow, you ask me +too much. But how would you have a Parisienne of the wealthy +<i>bourgeoisie</i> undertake the duty, the long brave task of nursing a +child, when she leads the life she does, what with receptions and +dinners and <i>soirées</i>, and absences and social obligations of all +sorts? That little Madame Séguin is simply trifling when she puts on an +air of deep distress and says that she would so much have liked to nurse +her infant, but that it was impossible since she had no milk. She never +even tried! When her first child was born she could doubtless have +nursed it. But to-day, with the imbecile, spoilt life she leads, it is +quite certain that she is incapable of making such an effort. The worst +is, my dear fellow, as any doctor will tell you, that after three or +four generations of mothers who do not feed their children there comes a +generation that cannot do so. And so, my friend, we are fast coming, not +only in France, but in other countries where the odious wet-nurse system +is in vogue, to a race of wretched, degenerate women, who will be +absolutely powerless to nourish their offspring." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu then remembered what he had witnessed at Madame Bourdieu's and +the Foundling Hospital. And he imparted his impressions to Boutan, who +again made a despairing gesture. There was a great work of social +salvation to be accomplished, said he. No doubt a number of +philanthropists were trying their best to improve things, but private +effort could not cope with such widespread need. There must be general +measures; laws must be passed to save the nation. The mother must be +protected and helped, even in secrecy, if she asked for it; she must be +cared for, succored, from the earliest period, and right through all the +long months during which she fed her babe. All sorts of establishments +would have to be founded—refuges, convalescent homes, and so forth; +and there must be protective enactments, and large sums of money voted to +enable help to be extended to all mothers, whatever they might be. It was +only by such preventive steps that one could put a stop to the frightful +hecatomb of newly-born infants, that incessant loss of life which +exhausted the nation and brought it nearer and nearer to death every day. +</p> +<p> +"And," continued the doctor, "it may all be summed up in this verity: 'It +is a mother's duty to nurse her child.' And, besides, a mother, is she +not the symbol of all grandeur, all strength, all beauty? She represents +the eternity of life. She deserves a social culture, she should be +religiously venerated. When we know how to worship motherhood, our +country will be saved. And this is why, my friend, I should like a mother +feeding her babe to be adopted as the highest expression of human beauty. +Ah! how can one persuade our Parisiennes, all our French women, indeed, +that woman's beauty lies in being a mother with an infant on her knees? +Whenever that fashion prevails, we shall be the sovereign nation, the +masters of the world!" +</p> +<p> +He ended by laughing in a distressed way, in his despair at being unable +to change manners and customs, aware as he was that the nation could be +revolutionized only by a change in its ideal of true beauty. +</p> +<p> +"To sum up, then, I believe in a child being nursed only by its own +mother. Every mother who neglects that duty when she can perform it is a +criminal. Of course, there are instances when she is physically incapable +of accomplishing her duty, and in that case there is the feeding-bottle, +which, if employed with care and extreme cleanliness, only sterilized +milk being used, will yield a sufficiently good result. But to send a +child away to be nursed means almost certain death; and as for the nurse +in the house, that is a shameful transaction, a source of incalculable +evil, for both the employer's child and the nurse's child frequently die +from it." +</p> +<p> +Just then the doctor's brougham drew up outside the nurse-agency in the +Rue Roquépine. +</p> +<p> +"I dare say you have never been in such a place, although you are the +father of five children," said Boutan to Mathieu, gayly. +</p> +<p> +"No, I haven't." +</p> +<p> +"Well, then, come with me. One ought to know everything." +</p> +<p> +The office in the Rue Roquépine was the most important and the one with +the best reputation in the district. It was kept by Madame Broquette, a +woman of forty, with a dignified if somewhat blotched face, who was +always very tightly laced in a faded silk gown of dead-leaf hue. But if +she represented the dignity and fair fame of the establishment in its +intercourse with clients, the soul of the place, the ever-busy +manipulator, was her husband, Monsieur Broquette, a little man with a +pointed nose, quick eyes, and the agility of a ferret. Charged with the +police duties of the office, the supervision and training of the nurses, +he received them, made them clean themselves, taught them to smile and +put on pleasant ways, besides penning them in their various rooms and +preventing them from eating too much. From morn till night he was ever +prowling about, scolding and terrorizing those dirty, ill-behaved, and +often lying and thieving women. The building, a dilapidated private +house, with a damp ground floor, to which alone clients were admitted, +had two upper stories, each comprising six rooms arranged as dormitories, +in which the nurses and their infants slept. There was no end to the +arrivals and departures there: the peasant women were ever galloping +through the place, dragging trunks about, carrying babes in swaddling +clothes, and filling the rooms and the passages with wild cries and vile +odors. And amid all this the house had another inmate, Mademoiselle +Broquette, Herminie as she was called, a long, pale, bloodless girl of +fifteen, who mooned about languidly among that swarm of sturdy young +women. +</p> +<p> +Boutan, who knew the house well, went in, followed by Mathieu. The +central passage, which was fairly broad, ended in a glass door, which +admitted one to a kind of courtyard, where a sickly conifer stood on a +round patch of grass, which the dampness rotted. On the right of the +passage was the office, whither Madame Broquette, at the request of her +customers, summoned the nurses, who waited in a neighboring room, which +was simply furnished with a greasy deal table in the centre. The +furniture of the office was some old Empire stuff, upholstered in red +velvet. There was a little mahogany centre table, and a gilt clock. Then, +on the left of the passage, near the kitchen, was the general refectory, +with two long tables, covered with oilcloth, and surrounded by straggling +chairs, whose straw seats were badly damaged. Just a make-believe sweep +with a broom was given there every day: one could divine long-amassed, +tenacious dirt in every dim corner; and the place reeked with an odor of +bad cookery mingled with that of sour milk. +</p> +<p> +When Boutan thrust open the office door he saw that Madame Broquette was +busy with an old gentleman, who sat there inspecting a party of nurses. +She recognized the doctor, and made a gesture of regret. "No matter, no +matter," he exclaimed; "I am not in a hurry: I will wait." +</p> +<p> +Through the open door Mathieu had caught sight of Mademoiselle Herminie, +the daughter of the house, ensconced in one of the red velvet armchairs +near the window, and dreamily perusing a novel there, while her mother, +standing up, extolled her goods in her most dignified way to the old +gentleman, who gravely contemplated the procession of nurses and seemed +unable to make up his mind. +</p> +<p> +"Let us have a look at the garden," said the doctor, with a laugh. +</p> +<p> +One of the boasts of the establishment, indeed, as set forth in its +prospectus, was a garden and a tree in it, as if there were plenty of +good air there, as in the country. They opened the glass door, and on a +bench near the tree they saw a plump girl, who doubtless had just +arrived, pretending to clean a squealing infant. She herself looked +sordid, and had evidently not washed since her journey. In one corner +there was an overflow of kitchen utensils, a pile of cracked pots and +greasy and rusty saucepans. Then, at the other end, a French window gave +access to the nurses' waiting-room, and here again there was a nauseous +spectacle of dirt and untidiness. +</p> +<p> +All at once Monsieur Broquette darted forward, though whence he had come +it was hard to say. At all events, he had seen Boutan, who was a client +that needed attention. "Is my wife busy, then?" said he. "I cannot allow +you to remain waiting here, doctor. Come, come, I pray you." +</p> +<p> +With his little ferreting eyes he had caught sight of the dirty girl +cleaning the child, and he was anxious that his visitors should see +nothing further of a character to give them a bad impression of the +establishment. "Pray, doctor, follow me," he repeated, and understanding +that an example was necessary, he turned to the girl, exclaiming, "What +business have you to be here? Why haven't you gone upstairs to wash and +dress? I shall fling a pailful of water in your face if you don't hurry +off and tidy yourself." +</p> +<p> +Then he forced her to rise and drove her off, all scared and terrified, +in front of him. When she had gone upstairs he led the two gentlemen to +the office entrance and began to complain: "Ah! doctor, if you only knew +what trouble I have even to get those girls to wash their hands! We who +are so clean! who put all our pride in keeping the house clean. If ever a +speck of dust is seen anywhere it is certainly not my fault." +</p> +<p> +Since the girl had gone upstairs a fearful tumult had arisen on the upper +floors, whence also a vile smell descended. Some dispute, some battle, +seemed to be in progress. There were shouts and howls, followed by a +furious exchange of vituperation. +</p> +<p> +"Pray excuse me," at last exclaimed Monsieur Broquette; "my wife will +receive you in a minute." +</p> +<p> +Thereupon he slipped off and flew up the stairs with noiseless agility. +And directly afterwards there was an explosion. Then the house suddenly +sank into death-like silence. All that could be heard was the voice of +Madame in the office, as, in a very dignified manner, she kept on +praising her goods. +</p> +<p> +"Well, my friend," said Boutan to Mathieu, while they walked up and down +the passage, "all this, the material side of things, is nothing. What you +should see and know is what goes on in the minds of all these people. And +note that this is a fair average place. There are others which are real +dens, and which the police sometimes have to close. No doubt there is a +certain amount of supervision, and there are severe regulations which +compel the nurses to bring certificates of morality, books setting forth +their names, ages, parentage, the situations they have held, and so on, +with other documents on which they have immediately to secure a signature +from the Prefecture, where the final authorization is granted them. But +these precautions don't prevent fraud and deceit of various kinds. The +women assert that they have only recently begun nursing, when they have +been doing it for months; they show you superb children which they have +borrowed and which they assert to be their own. And there are many other +tricks to which they resort in their eagerness to make money." +</p> +<p> +As the doctor and Mathieu chatted on, they paused for a moment near the +door of the refectory, which chanced to be open, and there, among other +young peasant women, they espied La Couteau hastily partaking of cold +meat. Doubtless she had just arrived from Rougemont, and, after disposing +of the batch of nurses she had brought with her, was seeking sustenance +for the various visits which she would have to make before returning +home. The refectory, with its wine-stained tables and greasy walls, cast +a smell like that of a badly-kept sink. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! so you know La Couteau!" exclaimed Boutan, when Mathieu had told him +of his meetings with the woman. "Then you know the depths of crime. La +Couteau is an ogress! And yet, think of it, with our fine social +organization, she is more or less useful, and perhaps I myself shall be +happy to choose one of the nurses that she has brought with her." +</p> +<p> +At this moment Madame Broquette very amiably asked the visitors into her +office. After long reflection, the old gentleman had gone off without +selecting any nurse, but saying that he would return some other time. +</p> +<p> +"There are folks who don't know their own minds," said Madame Broquette +sententiously. "It isn't my fault, and I sincerely beg you to excuse me, +doctor. If you want a good nurse you will be satisfied, for I have just +received some excellent ones from the provinces. I will show you." +</p> +<p> +Herminie, meanwhile, had not condescended to raise her nose from her +novel. She remained ensconced in her armchair, still reading, with a +weary, bored expression on her anaemic countenance. Mathieu, after +sitting down a little on one side, contented himself with looking on, +while Boutan stood erect, attentive to every detail, like a commander +reviewing his troops. And the procession began. +</p> +<p> +Having opened a door which communicated with the common room, Madame +Broquette, assuming the most noble airs, leisurely introduced the pick of +her nurses, in groups of three, each with her infant in her arms. About a +dozen were thus inspected: short ones with big heavy limbs, tall ones +suggesting maypoles, dark ones with coarse stiff hair, fair ones with the +whitest of skins, quick ones and slow ones, ugly ones and others who were +pleasant-looking. All, however, wore the same nervous, silly smile, all +swayed themselves with embarrassed timidity, the anxious mien of the +bondswoman at the slave market, who fears that she may not find a +purchaser. They clumsily tried to put on graceful ways, radiant with +internal joy directly a customer seemed to nibble, but clouding over and +casting black glances at their companions when the latter seemed to have +the better chance. Out of the dozen the doctor began by setting three +aside, and finally he detained but one, in order that he might study her +more fully. +</p> +<p> +"One can see that Monsieur le Docteur knows his business," Madame +Broquette allowed herself to say, with a flattering smile. "I don't often +have such pearls. But she has only just arrived, otherwise she would +probably have been engaged already. I can answer for her as I could for +myself, for I have put her out before." +</p> +<p> +The nurse was a dark woman of about twenty-six, of average height, built +strongly enough, but having a heavy, common face with a hard-looking jaw. +Having already been in service, however, she held herself fairly well. +</p> +<p> +"So that child is not your first one?" asked the doctor. +</p> +<p> +"No, monsieur, he's my third." +</p> +<p> +Then Boutan inquired into her circumstances, studied her papers, took her +into Madame Broquette's private room for examination, and on his return +make a minute inspection of her child, a strong plump boy, some three +months old, who in the interval had remained very quiet on an armchair. +The doctor seemed satisfied, but he suddenly raised his head to ask, "And +that child is really your own?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh! monsieur, where could I have got him otherwise?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh! my girl, children are borrowed, you know." +</p> +<p> +Then he paused for a moment, still hesitating and looking at the young +woman, embarrassed by some feeling of doubt, although she seemed to +embody all requirements. "And are you all quite well in your family?" he +asked; "have none of your relatives ever died of chest complaints?" +</p> +<p> +"Never, monsieur." +</p> +<p> +"Well, of course you would not tell me if they had. Your books ought to +contain a page for information of that kind. And you, are you of sober +habits? You don't drink?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh! monsieur." +</p> +<p> +This time the young woman bristled up, and Boutan had to calm her. Then +her face brightened with pleasure as soon as the doctor—with the +gesture of a man who is taking his chance, for however careful one may +be there is always an element of chance in such matters—said to +her: "Well, it is understood, I engage you. If you can send your child +away at once, you can go this evening to the address I will give you. +Let me see, what is your name?" +</p> +<p> +"Marie Lebleu." +</p> +<p> +Madame Broquette, who, without presuming to interfere with a doctor, had +retained her majestic air which so fully proclaimed the high +respectability of her establishment, now turned towards her daughter: +"Herminie, go to see if Madame Couteau is still there." +</p> +<p> +Then, as the girl slowly raised her pale dreamy eyes without stirring +from her chair, her mother came to the conclusion that she had better +execute the commission herself. A moment later she came back with La +Couteau. +</p> +<p> +The doctor was now settling money matters. Eighty francs a month for the +nurse; and forty-five francs for her board and lodging at the agency and +Madame Broquette's charges. Then there was the question of her child's +return to the country, which meant another thirty francs, without +counting a gratuity to La Couteau. +</p> +<p> +"I'm going back this evening," said the latter; "I'm quite willing to +take the little one with me. In the Avenue d'Antin, did you say? Oh! I +know, there's a lady's maid from my district in that house. Marie can go +there at once. When I've settled my business, in a couple of hours, I +will go and rid her of her baby." +</p> +<p> +On entering the office, La Couteau had glanced askance at Mathieu, +without, however, appearing to recognize him. He had remained on his +chair silently watching the scene—first an inspection as of cattle at +a market, and then a bargaining, the sale of a mother's milk. And by +degrees pity and revolt had filled his heart. But a shudder passed +through him when La Couteau turned towards the quiet, fine-looking child, +of which she promised to rid the nurse. And once more he pictured her +with her five companions at the St.-Lazare railway station, each, like +some voracious crow, with a new-born babe in her clutches. It was the +pillaging beginning afresh; life and hope were again being stolen from +Paris. And this time, as the doctor said, a double murder was threatened; +for, however careful one may be, the employer's child often dies from +another's milk, and the nurse's child, carried back into the country like +a parcel, is killed with neglect and indigestible pap. +</p> +<p> +But everything was now settled, and so the doctor and his companion drove +away to Grenelle. And there, at the very entrance of the Beauchêne works, +came a meeting which again filled Mathieu with emotion. Morange, the +accountant, was returning to his work after <i>déjeuner</i>, accompanied by +his daughter Reine, both of them dressed in deep mourning. On the morrow of +Valérie's funeral, Morange had returned to his work in a state of +prostration which almost resembled forgetfulness. It was clear that he +had abandoned all ambitious plans of quitting the works to seek a big +fortune elsewhere. Still he could not make up his mind to leave his flat, +though it was now too large for him, besides being too expensive. But +then his wife had lived in those rooms, and he wished to remain in them. +And, moreover, he desired to provide his daughter with all comfort. All +the affection of his weak heart was now given to that child, whose +resemblance to her mother distracted him. He would gaze at her for hours +with tears in his eyes. A great passion was springing up within him; his +one dream now was to dower her richly and seek happiness through her, if +indeed he could ever be happy again. Thus feelings of avarice had come to +him; he economized with respect to everything that was not connected with +her, and secretly sought supplementary work in order that he might give +her more luxury and increase her dower. Without her he would have died of +weariness and self-abandonment. She was indeed fast becoming his very +life. +</p> +<p> +"Why, yes," said she with a pretty smile, in answer to a question which +Boutan put to her, "it is I who have brought poor papa back. I wanted to +be sure that he would take a stroll before setting to work again. Other +wise he shuts himself up in his room and doesn't stir." +</p> +<p> +Morange made a vague apologetic gesture. At home, indeed, overcome as he +was by grief and remorse, he lived in his bedroom in the company of a +collection of his wife's portraits, some fifteen photographs, showing her +at all ages, which he had hung on the walls. +</p> +<p> +"It is very fine to-day, Monsieur Morange," said Boutan, "you do right in +taking a stroll." +</p> +<p> +The unhappy man raised his eyes in astonishment, and glanced at the sun +as if he had not previously noticed it. "That is true, it is fine +weather—and besides it is very good for Reine to go out a little." +</p> +<p> +Then he tenderly gazed at her, so charming, so pink and white in her +black mourning gown. He was always fearing that she must feel bored +during the long hours when he left her at home, alone with the servant. +To him solitude was so distressful, so full of the wife whom he mourned, +and whom he accused himself of having killed. +</p> +<p> +"Papa won't believe that one never feels <i>ennui</i> at my age," said the +girl gayly. "Since my poor mamma is no longer there, I must needs be a +little woman. And, besides, the Baroness sometimes calls to take me out." +</p> +<p> +Then she gave a shrill cry on seeing a brougham draw up close to the +curb. A woman was leaning out of the window, and she recognized her. +</p> +<p> +"Why, papa, there <i>is</i> the Baroness! She must have gone to our house, +and Clara must have told her that I had accompanied you here." +</p> +<p> +This, indeed, was what had happened. Morange hastily led Reine to the +carriage, from which Séraphine did not alight. And when his daughter had +sprung in joyously, he remained there another moment, effusively thanking +the Baroness, and delighted to think that his dear child was going to +amuse herself. Then, after watching the brougham till it disappeared, he +entered the factory, looking suddenly aged and shrunken, as if his grief +had fallen on his shoulders once more, so overwhelming him that he quite +forgot the others, and did not even take leave of them. +</p> +<p> +"Poor fellow!" muttered Mathieu, who had turned icy cold on seeing +Séraphine's bright mocking face and red hair at the carriage window. +</p> +<p> +Then he was going to his office when Beauchêne beckoned to him from one +of the windows of the house to come in with the doctor. The pair of them +found Constance and Maurice in the little drawing-room, whither the +father had repaired to finish his coffee and smoke a cigar. Boutan +immediately attended to the child, who was much better with respect to +his legs, but who still suffered from stomachic disturbance, the +slightest departure from the prescribed diet leading to troublesome +complications. +</p> +<p> +Constance, though she did not confess it, had become really anxious about +the boy, and questioned the doctor, and listened to him with all +eagerness. While she was thus engaged Beauchêne drew Mathieu on one side. +</p> +<p> +"I say," he began, laughing, "why did you not tell me that everything was +finished over yonder? I met the pretty blonde in the street yesterday." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu quietly replied that he had waited to be questioned in order to +render an account of his mission, for he had not cared to be the first to +raise such a painful subject. The money handed to him for expenses had +proved sufficient, and whenever the other desired it, he could produce +receipts for his various disbursements. He was already entering into +particulars when Beauchêne jovially interrupted him. +</p> +<p> +"You know what happened here? She had the audacity to come and ask for +work, not of me of course, but of the foreman of the women's work-room. +Fortunately I had foreseen this and had given strict orders; so the +foreman told her that considerations of order and discipline prevented +him from taking her back. Her sister Euphrasie, who is to be married next +week, is still working here. Just fancy them having another set-to! +Besides, her place is not here." +</p> +<p> +Then he went to take a little glass of cognac which stood on the +mantelpiece. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu had learnt only the day before that Norine, on leaving Madame +Bourdieu's, had sought a temporary refuge with a female friend, not +caring to resume a life of quarrelling at her parents' home. Besides her +attempt to regain admittance at Beauchêne's, she had applied at two other +establishments; but, as a matter of fact, she did not evince any +particular ardor in seeking to obtain work. Four months' idleness and +coddling had altogether disgusted her with a factory hand's life, and the +inevitable was bound to happen. Indeed Beauchêne, as he came back sipping +his cognac, resumed: "Yes, I met her in the street. She was quite smartly +dressed, and leaning on the arm of a big, bearded young fellow, who did +nothing but make eyes at her. It was certain to come to that, you know. I +always thought so." +</p> +<p> +Then he was stepping towards his wife and the doctor, when he remembered +something else, came back, and asked Mathieu in a yet lower tone, "What +was it you were telling me about the child?" And as soon as Mathieu had +related that he had taken the infant to the Foundling Hospital so as to +be certain that it was deposited there, he warmly pressed his hand. +"That's perfect. Thank you, my dear fellow; I shall be at peace now." +</p> +<p> +He felt, indeed, intensely relieved, hummed a lively air, and then took +his stand before Constance, who was still consulting the doctor. She was +holding little Maurice against her knees, and gazing at him with the +jealous love of a good <i>bourgeoise</i>, who carefully watched over the +health of her only son, that son whom she wished to make a prince of +industry and wealth. All at once, however, in reply to a remark from +Boutan, she exclaimed: "Why then, doctor, you think me culpable? You +really say that a child, nursed by his mother, always has a stronger +constitution than others, and can the better resist the ailments of +childhood?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh! there is no doubt of it, madame." +</p> +<p> +Beauchêne, ceasing to chew his cigar, shrugged his shoulders, and burst +into a sonorous laugh: "Oh! don't you worry, that youngster will live to +be a hundred! Why, the Burgundian who nursed him was as strong as a rock! +But, I say, doctor, you intend then to make the Chambers pass a law for +obligatory nursing by mothers?" +</p> +<p> +At this sally Boutan also began to laugh. "Well, why not?" said he. +</p> +<p> +This at once supplied Beauchêne with material for innumerable jests. Why, +such a law would completely upset manners and customs, social life would +be suspended, and drawing-rooms would become deserted! Posters would be +placarded everywhere bearing the inscription: "Closed on account of +nursing." +</p> +<p> +"Briefly," said Beauchêne, in conclusion, "you want to have a +revolution." +</p> +<p> +"A revolution, yes," the doctor gently replied, "and we will effect it." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="X">X</a></h4> + +<p> +MATHIEU finished studying his great scheme, the clearing and cultivation +of Chantebled, and at last, contrary to all prudence but with all the +audacity of fervent faith and hope, it was resolved upon. He warned +Beauchêne one morning that he should leave the works at the end of the +month, for on the previous day he had spoken to Séguin, and had found him +quite willing to sell the little pavilion and some fifty acres around it +on very easy terms. As Mathieu had imagined, Séguin's affairs were in a +very muddled state, for he had lost large sums at the gaming table and +spent money recklessly on women, leading indeed a most disastrous life +since trouble had arisen in his home. And so he welcomed the transaction +which Mathieu proposed to him, in the hope that the young man would end +by ridding him of the whole of that unprofitable estate should his first +experiment prove successful. Then came other interviews between them, and +Séguin finally consented to sell on a system of annual payments, spread +over a term of years, the first to be made in two years' time from that +date. As things stood, the property seemed likely to remain +unremunerative forever, and so there was nothing risked in allowing the +purchaser a couple of years' credit. However, they agreed to meet once +more and settle the final details before a formal deed of sale was drawn +up. And one Monday morning, therefore, about ten o'clock, Mathieu set out +for the house in the Avenue d'Antin in order to complete the business. +</p> +<p> +That morning, as it happened, Céleste the maid received in the linen +room, where she usually remained, a visit from her friend Madame Menoux, +the little haberdasher of the neighborhood, in whose tiny shop she was so +fond of gossiping. They had become more intimate than ever since La +Couteau, at Céleste's instigation, had taken Madame Menoux's child, +Pierre, to Rougemont, to be put out to nurse there in the best possible +way for the sum of thirty francs a month. La Couteau had also very +complaisantly promised to call each month at one or another of her +journeys in order to receive the thirty francs, thereby saving the mother +the trouble of sending the money by post, and also enabling her to obtain +fresh news of her child. Thus, each time a payment became due, if La +Couteau's journey happened to be delayed a single day, Madame Menoux grew +terribly frightened, and hastened off to Céleste to make inquiries of +her. And, moreover, she was glad to have an opportunity of conversing +with this girl, who came from the very part where her little Pierre was +being reared. +</p> +<p> +"You will excuse, me, won't you, mademoiselle, for calling so early," +said she, "but you told me that your lady never required you before nine +o'clock. And I've come, you know, because I've had no news from over +yonder, and it occurred to me that you perhaps might have received a +letter." +</p> +<p> +Blonde, short and thin, Madame Menoux, who was the daughter of a poor +clerk, had a slender pale face, and a pleasant, but somewhat sad, +expression. From her own slightness of build probably sprang her +passionate admiration for her big, handsome husband, who could have +crushed her between his fingers. If she was slight, however, she was +endowed with unconquerable tenacity and courage, and she would have +killed herself with hard work to provide him with the coffee and cognac +which he liked to sip after each repast. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! it's hard," she continued, "to have had to send our Pierre so far +away. As it is, I don't see my husband all day, and now I've a child whom +I never see at all. But the misfortune is that one has to live, and how +could I have kept the little fellow in that tiny shop of mine, where from +morning till night I never have a moment to spare! Yet, I can't help +crying at the thought that I wasn't able to keep and nurse him. When my +husband comes home from the museum every evening, we do nothing but talk +about him, like a pair of fools. And so, according to you, mademoiselle, +that place Rougemont is very healthy, and there are never any nasty +illnesses about there?" +</p> +<p> +But at this moment she was interrupted by the arrival of another early +visitor, whose advent she hailed with a cry of delight. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! how happy I am to see you, Madame Couteau! What a good idea it was +of mine to call here!" +</p> +<p> +Amid exclamations of joyous surprise, the nurse-agent explained that she +had arrived by the night train with a batch of nurses, and had started on +her round of visits as soon as she had deposited them in the Rue +Roquépine. +</p> +<p> +"After bidding Céleste good-day in passing," said she, "I intended to +call on you, my dear lady. But since you are here, we can settle our +accounts here, if you are agreeable." +</p> +<p> +Madame Menoux, however, was looking at her very anxiously. "And how is my +little Pierre?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +"Why, not so bad, not so bad. He is not, you know, one of the strongest; +one can't say that he's a big child. Only he's so pretty and nice-looking +with his rather pale face. And it's quite certain that if there are +bigger babies than he is, there are smaller ones too." +</p> +<p> +She spoke more slowly as she proceeded, and carefully sought words which +might render the mother anxious, without driving her to despair. These +were her usual tactics in order to disturb her customers' hearts, and +then extract as much money from them as possible. On this occasion she +must have guessed that she might carry things so far as to ascribe a +slight illness to the child. +</p> +<p> +"However, I must really tell you, because I don't know how to lie; and +besides, after all, it's my duty—Well, the poor little darling has +been ill, and he's not quite well again yet." +</p> +<p> +Madame Menoux turned very pale and clasped her puny little hands: "<i>Mon +Dieu</i>! he will die of it." +</p> +<p> +"No, no, since I tell you that he's already a little better. And +certainly he doesn't lack good care. You should just see how La Loiseau +coddles him! When children are well behaved they soon get themselves +loved ——. And the whole house is at his service, and no expense +is spared The doctor came twice, and there was even some medicine. And that +costs money." +</p> +<p> +The last words fell from La Couteau's lips with the weight of a club. +Then, without leaving the scared, trembling mother time to recover, the +nurse-agent continued: "Shall we go into our accounts, my dear lady?" +</p> +<p> +Madame Menoux, who had intended to make a payment before returning to her +shop, was delighted to have some money with her. They looked for a slip +of paper on which to set down the figures; first the month's nursing, +thirty francs; then the doctor, six francs; and indeed, with the +medicine, that would make ten francs. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! and besides, I meant to tell you," added La Couteau, "that so much +linen was dirtied during his illness that you really ought to add three +francs for the soap. That would only be just; and besides, there were +other little expenses, sugar, and eggs, so that in your place, to act +like a good mother, I should put down five francs. Forty-five francs +altogether, will that suit you?" +</p> +<p> +In spite of her emotion Madame Menoux felt that she was being robbed, +that the other was speculating on her distress. She made a gesture of +surprise and revolt at the idea of having to give so much money—that +money which she found so hard to earn. No end of cotton and needles had +to be sold to get such a sum together! And her distress, between the +necessity of economy on the one hand and her maternal anxiety on the +other, would have touched the hardest heart. +</p> +<p> +"But that will make another half-month's money," said she. +</p> +<p> +At this La Couteau put on her most frigid air: "Well, what would you +have? It isn't my fault. One can't let your child die, so one must incur +the necessary expenses. And then, if you haven't confidence in me, say +so; send the money and settle things direct. Indeed, that will greatly +relieve me, for in all this I lose my time and trouble; but then, I'm +always stupid enough to be too obliging." +</p> +<p> +When Madame Menoux, again quivering and anxious, had given way, another +difficulty arose. She had only some gold with her, two twenty-franc +pieces and one ten-franc piece. The three coins lay glittering on the +table. La Couteau looked at them with her yellow fixed eyes. +</p> +<p> +"Well, I can't give you your five francs change," she said, "I haven't +any change with me. And you, Céleste, have you any change for this lady?" +</p> +<p> +She risked asking this question, but put it in such a tone and with such +a glance that the other immediately understood her. "I have not a copper +in my pocket," she replied. +</p> +<p> +Deep silence fell. Then, with bleeding heart and a gesture of cruel +resignation, Madame Menoux did what was expected of her. +</p> +<p> +"Keep those five francs for yourself, Madame Couteau, since you have to +take so much trouble. And, <i>mon Dieu</i>! may all this money bring me good +luck, and at least enable my poor little fellow to grow up a fine +handsome man like his father." +</p> +<p> +"Oh! as for that I'll warrant it," cried the other, with enthusiasm. "Those +little ailments don't mean anything—on the contrary. I see plenty +of little folks, I do; and so just remember what I tell you, yours will +become an extraordinarily fine child. There won't be better." +</p> +<p> +When Madame Menoux went off, La Couteau had lavished such flattery and +such promises upon her that she felt quite light and gay; no longer +regretting her money, but dreaming of the day when little Pierre would +come back to her with plump cheeks and all the vigor of a young oak. +</p> +<p> +As soon as the door had closed behind the haberdasher, Céleste began to +laugh in her impudent way: "What a lot of fibs you told her! I don't +believe that her child so much as caught a cold," she exclaimed. +</p> +<p> +La Couteau began by assuming a dignified air: "Say that I'm a liar at +once. The child isn't well, I assure you." +</p> +<p> +The maid's gayety only increased at this. "Well now, you are really +comical, putting on such airs with me. I know you, remember, and I know +what is meant when the tip of your nose begins to wriggle." +</p> +<p> +"The child is quite puny," repeated her friend, more gently. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! I can believe that. All the same I should like to see the doctor's +prescriptions, and the soap and the sugar. But, you know, I don't care a +button about the matter. As for that little Madame Menoux, it's here +to-day and gone to-morrow. She has her business, and I have mine. And +you, too, have yours, and so much the better if you get as much out of it +as you can." +</p> +<p> +But La Couteau changed the conversation by asking the maid if she could +not give her a drop of something to drink, for night travelling did upset +her stomach so. Thereupon Céleste, with a laugh, took a bottle half-full +of malaga and a box of biscuits from the bottom of a cupboard. This was +her little secret store, stolen from the still-room. Then, as the other +expressed a fear that her mistress might surprise them, she made a +gesture of insolent contempt. Her mistress! Why, she had her nose in her +basins and perfumery pots, and wasn't at all likely to call till she had +fixed herself up so as to look pretty. +</p> +<p> +"There are only the children to fear," added Céleste; "that Gaston and +that Lucie, a couple of brats who are always after one because their +parents never trouble about them, but let them come and play here or in +the kitchen from morning till night. And I don't dare lock this door, for +fear they should come rapping and kicking at it." +</p> +<p> +When, by way of precaution, she had glanced down the passage and they had +both seated themselves at table, they warmed and spoke out their minds, +soon reaching a stage of easy impudence and saying everything as if quite +unconscious how abominable it was. While sipping her wine Céleste asked +for news of the village, and La Couteau spoke the brutal truth, between +two biscuits. It was at the Vimeux' house that the servant's last child, +born in La Rouche's den, had died a fortnight after arriving at +Rougemont, and the Vimeux, who were more or less her cousins, had sent +her their friendly remembrances and the news that they were about to +marry off their daughter. Then, at La Gavette's, the old grandfather, who +looked after the nurslings while the family was at work in the fields, +had fallen into the fire with a baby in his arms. Fortunately they had +been pulled out of it, and only the little one had been roasted. La +Cauchois, though at heart she wasn't downcast, now had some fears that +she might be worried, because four little ones had gone off from her +house all in a body, a window being forgetfully left open at night-time. +They were all four little Parisians, it seemed—two foundlings and two +that had come from Madame Bourdieu's. Since the beginning of the year as +many had died at Rougemont as had arrived there, and the mayor had +declared that far too many were dying, and that the village would end by +getting a bad reputation. One thing was certain, La Couillard would be +the very first to receive a visit from the gendarmes if she didn't so +arrange matters as to keep at least one nursling alive every now and +then. +</p> +<p> +"Ah? that Couillard!" added the nurse-agent. "Just fancy, my dear, I took +her a child, a perfect little angel—the boy of a very pretty young +person who was stopping at Madame Bourdieu's. She paid four hundred +francs to have him brought up until his first communion, and he lived +just five days! Really now, that wasn't long enough! La Couillard need +not have been so hasty. It put me in such a temper! I asked her if she +wanted to dishonor me. What will ruin me is my good heart. I don't know +how to refuse when folks ask me to do them a service. And God in Heaven +knows how fond I am of children! I've always lived among them, and in +future, if anybody who's a friend of mine gives me a child to put out to +nurse, I shall say: 'We won't take the little one to La Couillard, for it +would be tempting Providence. But after all, I'm an honest woman, and I +wash my hands of it, for if I do take the cherubs over yonder I don't +nurse them. And when one's conscience is at ease one can sleep quietly.'" +</p> +<p> +"Of course," chimed in Céleste, with an air of conviction. +</p> +<p> +While they thus waxed maudlin over their malaga, there arose a horrible +red vision—a vision of that terrible Rougemont, paved with little +Parisians, the filthy, bloody village, the charnel-place of cowardly +murder, whose steeple pointed so peacefully to the skies in the midst of +the far-spreading plain. +</p> +<p> +But all at once a rush was heard in the passage, and the servant hastened +to the door to rid herself of Gaston and Lucie, who were approaching. "Be +off! I don't want you here. Your mamma has told you that you mustn't come +here." +</p> +<p> +Then she came back into the room quite furious. "That's true!" said she; +"I can do nothing but they must come to bother me. Why don't they stay a +little with the nurse?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh! by the way," interrupted La Couteau, "did you hear that Marie +Lebleu's little one is dead? She must have had a letter about it. Such a +fine child it was! But what can one expect? it's a nasty wind passing. +And then you know the saying, 'A nurse's child is the child of +sacrifice!'" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, she told me she had heard of it," replied Céleste, "but she begged +me not to mention it to madame, as such things always have a bad effect. +The worst is that if her child's dead madame's little one isn't much +better off." +</p> +<p> +At this La Couteau pricked up her ears. "Ah! so things are not +satisfactory?" +</p> +<p> +"No, indeed. It isn't on account of her milk; that's good enough, and +she has plenty of it. Only you never saw such a creature—such a +temper! always brutal and insolent, banging the doors and talking of +smashing everything at the slightest word. And besides, she drinks like +a pig—as no woman ought to drink." +</p> +<p> +La Couteau's pale eyes sparkled with gayety, and she briskly nodded her +head as if to say that she knew all this and had been expecting it. In +that part of Normandy, in and around Rougemont, all the women drank more +or less, and the girls even carried little bottles of brandy to school +with them in their baskets. Marie Lebleu, however, was a woman of the +kind that one picks up under the table, and, indeed, it might be said +that since the birth of her last child she had never been quite sober. +</p> +<p> +"I know her, my dear," exclaimed La Couteau; "she is impossible. But +then, that doctor who chose her didn't ask my opinion. And, besides, it +isn't a matter that concerns me. I simply bring her to Paris and take her +child back to the country. I know nothing about anything else. Let the +gentlefolks get out of their trouble by themselves." +</p> +<p> +This sentiment tickled Céleste, who burst out laughing. "You haven't an +idea," said she, "of the infernal life that Marie leads here! She fights +people, she threw a water-bottle at the coachman, she broke a big vase in +madame's apartments, she makes them all tremble with constant dread that +something awful may happen. And, then, if you knew what tricks she plays +to get something to drink! For it was found out that she drank, and all +the liqueurs were put under lock and key. So you don't know what she +devised? Well, last week she drained a whole bottle of Eau de Melisse, +and was ill, quite ill, from it. Another time she was caught sipping some +Eau de Cologne from one of the bottles in madame's dressing-room. I now +really believe that she treats herself to some of the spirits of wine +that are given her for the warmer!—it's enough to make one die of +laughing. I'm always splitting my sides over it, in my little corner." +</p> +<p> +Then she laughed till the tears came into her eyes; and La Couteau, on +her side highly amused, began to wriggle with a savage delight. All at +once, however, she calmed down and exclaimed, "But, I say, they will turn +her out of doors?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh! that won't be long. They would have done so already if they had +dared." +</p> +<p> +But at this moment the ringing of a bell was heard, and an oath escaped +Céleste. "Good! there's madame ringing for me now! One can never be at +peace for a moment." +</p> +<p> +La Couteau, however, was already standing up, quite serious, intent on +business and ready to depart. +</p> +<p> +"Come, little one, don't be foolish, you must do your work. For my part I +have an idea. I'll run to fetch one of the nurses whom I brought this +morning, a girl I can answer for as for myself. In an hour's time I'll be +back here with her, and there will be a little present for you if you +help me to get her the situation." +</p> +<p> +She disappeared while the maid, before answering a second ring, leisurely +replaced the malaga and the biscuits at the bottom of the cupboard. +</p> +<p> +At ten o'clock that day Séguin was to take his wife and their friend +Santerre to Mantes, to lunch there, by way of trying an electric +motor-car, which he had just had built at considerable expense. He had +become fond of this new "sport," less from personal taste, however, than +from his desire to be one of the foremost in taking up a new fashion. And +a quarter of an hour before the time fixed for starting he was already in +his spacious "cabinet," arrayed in what he deemed an appropriate costume: +a jacket and breeches of greenish ribbed velvet, yellow shoes, and a +little leather hat. And he poked fun at Santerre when the latter +presented himself in town attire, a light gray suit of delicate effect. +</p> +<p> +Soon after Valentine had given birth to her daughter Andrée, the novelist +had again become a constant frequenter of the house in the Avenue +d'Antin. He was intent on resuming the little intrigue that he had begun +there and felt confident of victory. Valentine, on her side, after a +period of terror followed by great relief, had set about making up for +lost time, throwing herself more wildly than ever into the vortex of +fashionable life. She had recovered her good looks and youthfulness, and +had never before experienced such a desire to divert herself, leaving her +children more and more to the care of servants, and going about, hither +and thither, as her fancy listed, particularly since her husband did the +same in his sudden fits of jealousy and brutality, which broke out every +now and again in the most imbecile fashion without the slightest cause. +It was the collapse of all family life, with the threat of a great +disaster in the future; and Santerre lived there in the midst of it, +helping on the work of destruction. +</p> +<p> +He gave a cry of rapture when Valentine at last made her appearance +gowned in a delicious travelling dress, with a cavalier <i>toque</i> on her +head. But she was not quite ready, for she darted off again, saying that +she would be at their service as soon as she had seen her little Andrée, +and given her last orders to the nurse. +</p> +<p> +"Well, make haste," cried her husband. "You are quite unbearable, you are +never ready." +</p> +<p> +It was at this moment that Mathieu called, and Séguin received him in +order to express his regret that he could not that day go into business +matters with him. Nevertheless, before fixing another appointment, he was +willing to take note of certain conditions which the other wished to +stipulate for the purpose of reserving to himself the exclusive right of +purchasing the remainder of the Chantebled estate in portions and at +fixed dates. Séguin was promising that he would carefully study this +proposal when he was cut short by a sudden tumult—distant shouts, +wild hurrying to and fro, and a violent banging of doors. +</p> +<p> +"Why! what is it? what is it?" he muttered, turning towards the shaking +walls. +</p> +<p> +The door suddenly opened and Valentine reappeared, distracted, red with +fear and anger, and carrying her little Andrée, who wailed and struggled +in her arms. +</p> +<p> +"There, there, my pet," gasped the mother, "don't cry, she shan't hurt +you any more. There, it's nothing, darling; be quiet, do." +</p> +<p> +Then she deposited the little girl in a large armchair, where she at once +became quiet again. She was a very pretty child, but still so puny, +although nearly four months old, that there seemed to be nothing but her +beautiful big eyes in her pale little face. +</p> +<p> +"Well, what is the matter?" asked Séguin, in astonishment. +</p> +<p> +"The matter, is, my friend, that I have just found Marie lying across the +cradle as drunk as a market porter, and half stifling the child. If I had +been a few moments later it would have been all over. Drunk at ten +o'clock in the morning! Can one understand such a thing? I had noticed +that she drank, and so I hid the liqueurs, for I hoped to be able to keep +her, since her milk is so good. But do you know what she had drunk? Why, +the methylated spirits for the warmer! The empty bottle had remained +beside her." +</p> +<p> +"But what did she say to you?" +</p> +<p> +"She simply wanted to beat me. When I shook her, she flew at me in a +drunken fury, shouting abominable words. And I had time only to escape +with the little one, while she began barricading herself in the room, +where she is now smashing the furniture! There! just listen!" +</p> +<p> +Indeed, a distant uproar of destruction reached them. They looked one at +the other, and deep silence fell, full of embarrassment and alarm. +</p> +<p> +"And then?" Séguin ended by asking in his curt dry voice. +</p> +<p> +"Well, what can I say? That woman is a brute beast, and I can't leave +Andrée in her charge to be killed by her. I have brought the child here, +and I certainly shall not take her back. I will even own that I won't run +the risk of going back to the room. You will have to turn the girl out of +doors, after paying her wages." +</p> +<p> +"I! I!" cried Séguin. Then, walking up and down as if spurring on the +anger which was rising within him, he burst forth: "I've had enough, you +know, of all these idiotic stories! This house has become a perfect hell +upon earth all through that child! There will soon be nothing but +fighting here from morning till night. First of all it was pretended that +the nurse whom I took the trouble to choose wasn't healthy. Well, then a +second nurse is engaged, and she gets drunk and stifles the child. And +now, I suppose, we are to have a third, some other vile creature who will +prey on us and drive us mad. No, no, it's too exasperating, I won't have +it." +</p> +<p> +Valentine, her fears now calmed, became aggressive. "What won't you have? +There is no sense in what you say. As we have a child we must have a +nurse. If I had spoken of nursing the little one myself you would have +told me I was a fool. You would have found the house more uninhabitable +than ever, if you had seen me with the child always in my arms. But I +won't nurse—I can't. As you say, we will take a third nurse; it's +simple enough, and we'll do so at once and risk it." +</p> +<p> +Séguin had abruptly halted in front of Andrée, who, alarmed by the sight +of his stern dark figure began to cry. Blinded as he was by anger, he +perhaps failed to see her, even as he failed to see Gaston and Lucie, who +had hastened in at the noise of the dispute and stood near the door, full +of curiosity and fear. As nobody thought of sending them away they +remained there, and saw and heard everything. +</p> +<p> +"The carriage is waiting," resumed Séguin, in a voice which he strove to +render calm. "Let us make haste, let us go." +</p> +<p> +Valentine looked at him in stupefaction. "Come, be reasonable," said she. +"How can I leave this child when I have nobody to whom I can trust her?" +</p> +<p> +"The carriage is waiting for us," he repeated, quivering; "let us go at +once." +</p> +<p> +And as his wife this time contented herself with shrugging her shoulders, +he was seized with one of those sudden fits of madness which impelled him +to the greatest violence, even when people were present, and made him +openly display his rankling poisonous sore, that absurd jealousy which +had upset his life. As for that poor little puny, wailing child, he would +have crushed her, for he held her to be guilty of everything, and indeed +it was she who was now the obstacle to that excursion he had planned, +that pleasure trip which he had promised himself, and which now seemed to +him of such supreme importance. And 'twas so much the better if friends +were there to hear him. So in the vilest language he began to upbraid his +wife, not only reproaching her for the birth of that child, but even +denying that the child was his. "You will only be content when you have +driven me from the house!" he finished in a fury. "You won't come? Well +then, I'll go by myself!" +</p> +<p> +And thereupon he rushed off like a whirlwind, without a word to Santerre, +who had remained silent, and without even remembering that Mathieu still +stood there awaiting an answer. The latter, in consternation at hearing +all these things, had not dared to withdraw lest by doing so he should +seem to be passing judgment on the scene. Standing there motionless, he +turned his head aside, looked at little Andrée who was still crying, and +at Gaston and Lucie, who, silent with fright, pressed one against the +other behind the armchair in which their sister was wailing. +</p> +<p> +Valentine had sunk upon a chair, stifling with sobs, her limbs trembling. +"The wretch! Ah, how he treats me! To accuse me thus, when he knows how +false it is! Ah! never more; no, never more! I would rather kill myself; +yes, kill myself!" +</p> +<p> +Then Santerre, who had hitherto stood on one side, gently drew near to +her and ventured to take her hand with a gesture of affectionate +compassion, while saying in an undertone: "Come, calm yourself. You know +very well that you are not alone, that you are not forsaken. There are +some things which cannot touch you. Calm yourself, cease weeping, I beg +you. You distress me dreadfully." +</p> +<p> +He made himself the more gentle since the husband had been the more +brutal; and he leant over her yet the more closely, and again lowered his +voice till it became but a murmur. Only a few words could be heard: "It +is wrong of you to worry yourself like this. Forget all that folly. I +told you before that he doesn't know how to behave towards a woman." +</p> +<p> +Twice was that last remark repeated with a sort of mocking pity; and she +smiled vaguely amid her drying tears, in her turn murmuring: "You are +kind, you are. Thank you. And you are quite right.... Ah! if I could +only be a little happy!" +</p> +<p> +Then Mathieu distinctly saw her press Santerre's hand as if in acceptance +of his consolation. It was the logical, fatal outcome of the +situation—given a wife whom her husband had perverted, a mother who +refused to nurse her babe. And yet a cry from Andrée suddenly set +Valentine erect, awaking to the reality of her position. If that poor +creature were so puny, dying for lack of her mother's milk, the mother +also was in danger from her refusal to nurse her and clasp her to her +breast like a buckler of invincible defence. Life and salvation one +through the other, or disaster for both, such was the law. And doubtless +Valentine became clearly conscious of her peril, for she hastened to take +up the child and cover her with caresses, as if to make of her a +protecting rampart against the supreme madness to which she had felt +prompted. And great was the distress that came over her. Her other +children were there, looking and listening, and Mathieu also was still +waiting. When she perceived him her tears gushed forth again, and she +strove to explain things, and even attempted to defend her husband. +</p> +<p> +"Excuse him, there are moments when he quite loses his head. <i>Mon +Dieu</i>! What will become of me with this child? Yet I can't nurse her +now, it is too late. It is frightful to be in such a position without +knowing what to do. Ah! what will become of me, good Lord?" +</p> +<p> +Santerre again attempted to console her, but she no longer listened to +him, and he was about to defer all further efforts till another time when +unexpected intervention helped on his designs. +</p> +<p> +Céleste, who had entered noiselessly, stood there waiting for her +mistress to allow her to speak. "It is my friend who has come to see me, +madame," said she; "you know, the person from my village, Sophie Couteau, +and as she happens to have a nurse with her—" +</p> +<p> +"There is a nurse here?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh! yes, madame, a very fine one, an excellent one." +</p> +<p> +Then, on perceiving her mistress's radiant surprise, her joy at this +relief, she showed herself zealous: "Madame must not tire herself by +holding the little one. Madame hasn't the habit. If madame will allow me, +I will bring the nurse to her." +</p> +<p> +Heaving a sigh of happy deliverance, Valentine had allowed the servant to +take the child from her. So Heaven had not abandoned her! However, she +began to discuss the matter, and was not inclined to have the nurse +brought there. She somehow feared that if the other one, who was drunk in +her room, should come out and meet the new arrival, she would set about +beating them all and breaking everything. At last she insisted on taking +Santerre and Mathieu into the linen-room, saying that the latter must +certainly have some knowledge of these matters, although he declared the +contrary. Only Gaston and Lucie were formally forbidden to follow. +</p> +<p> +"You are not wanted," said their mother, "so stay here and play. But we +others will all go, and as softly as possible, please, so that that +drunken creature may not suspect anything." +</p> +<p> +Once in the linen-room, Valentine ordered all the doors to be carefully +secured. La Couteau was standing there with a sturdy young person of +five-and-twenty, who carried a superb-looking infant in her arms. She had +dark hair, a low forehead, and a broad face, and was very respectably +dressed. And she made a little courtesy like a well-trained nurse, who +has already served with gentlefolks and knows how to behave. But +Valentine's embarrassment remained extreme; she looked at the nurse and +at the babe like an ignorant woman who, though her elder children had +been brought up in a room adjoining her own, had never troubled or +concerned herself about anything. In her despair, seeing that Santerre +kept to himself, she again appealed to Mathieu, who once more excused +himself. And it was only then that La Couteau, after glancing askance at +the gentleman who, somehow or other, always turned up whenever she had +business to transact, ventured to intervene: +</p> +<p> +"Will madame rely on me? If madame will kindly remember, I once before +ventured to offer her my services, and if she had accepted them she would +have saved herself no end of worry. That Marie Lebleu is impossible, and +I certainly could have warned madame of it at the time when I came to +fetch Marie's child. But since madame's doctor had chosen her, it was not +for me to speak. Oh! she has good milk, that's quite sure; only she also +has a good tongue, which is always dry. So if madame will now place +confidence in me—" +</p> +<p> +Then she rattled on interminably, expatiating on the respectability of +her calling, and praising the value of the goods she offered. +</p> +<p> +"Well, madame, I tell you that you can take La Catiche with your eyes +shut. She's exactly what you want, there's no better in Paris. Just look +how she's built, how sturdy and how healthy she is! And her child, just +look at it! She's married, she even has a little girl of four at the +village with her husband. She's a respectable woman, which is more than +can be said for a good many nurses. In a word, madame, I know her and can +answer for her. If you are not pleased with her I myself will give you +your money back." +</p> +<p> +In her haste to get it all over Valentine made a great gesture of +surrender. She even consented to pay one hundred francs a month, since La +Catiche was a married woman. Moreover, La Couteau explained that she +would not have to pay the office charges, which would mean a saving of +forty-five francs, though, perhaps, madame would not forget all the +trouble which she, La Couteau, had taken. On the other hand, there would, +of course, be the expense of taking La Catiche's child back to the +village, a matter of thirty francs. Valentine liberally promised to +double that sum; and all seemed to be settled, and she felt delivered, +when she suddenly bethought herself of the other nurse, who had +barricaded herself in her room. How could they get her out in order to +install La Catiche in her place? +</p> +<p> +"What!" exclaimed La Couteau, "does Marie Lebleu frighten you? She had +better not give me any of her nonsense if she wants me ever to find her +another situation. I'll speak to her, never fear." +</p> +<p> +Céleste thereupon placed Andrée on a blanket, which was lying there, side +by side with the infant of which the new nurse had rid herself a moment +previously, and undertook to conduct La Couteau to Marie Lebleu's room. +Deathlike silence now reigned there, but the nurse-agent only had to give +her name to secure admittance. She went in, and for a few moments one +only heard her dry curt voice. Then, on coming out, she tranquillized +Valentine, who had gone to listen, trembling. +</p> +<p> +"I've sobered her, I can tell you," said she. "Pay her her month's wages. +She's packing her box and going off." +</p> +<p> +Then, as they went back into the linen-room, Valentine settled pecuniary +matters and added five francs for this new service. But a final +difficulty arose. La Couteau could not come back to fetch La Catiche's +child in the evening, and what was she to do with it during the rest of +the day? "Well, no matter," she said at last, "I'll take it; I'll deposit +it at the office, before I go my round. They'll give it a bottle there, +and it'll have to grow accustomed to the bottle now, won't it?" +</p> +<p> +"Of course," the mother quietly replied. +</p> +<p> +Then, as La Couteau, on the point of leaving, after all sorts of bows and +thanks, turned round to take the little one, she made a gesture of +hesitation on seeing the two children lying side by side on the blanket. +</p> +<p> +"The devil!" she murmured; "I mustn't make a mistake." +</p> +<p> +This seemed amusing, and enlivened the others. Céleste fairly exploded, +and even La Catiche grinned broadly; while La Couteau caught up the child +with her long claw-like hands and carried it away. Yet another gone, to +be carted away yonder in one of those ever-recurring <i>razzias</i> which +consigned the little babes to massacre! +</p> +<p> +Mathieu alone had not laughed. He had suddenly recalled his conversation +with Boutan respecting the demoralizing effects of that nurse trade, the +shameful bargaining, the common crime of two mothers, who each risked the +death of her child—the idle mother who bought another's services, the +venal mother who sold her milk. He felt cold at heart as he saw one child +carried off still full of life, and the other remain there already so +puny. And what would be fate's course? Would not one or the other, +perhaps both of them be sacrificed? +</p> +<p> +Valentine, however, was already leading both him and Santerre to the +spacious <i>salon</i> again; and she was so delighted, so fully relieved, +that she had recovered all her cavalier carelessness, her passion for noise +and pleasure. And as Mathieu was about to take his leave, he heard the +triumphant Santerre saying to her, while for a moment he retained her +hand in his clasp: "Till to-morrow, then." And she, who had cast her +buckler of defence aside, made answer: "Yes—yes, to-morrow." +</p> +<p> +A week later La Catiche was the acknowledged queen of the house. Andrée +had recovered a little color, and was increasing in weight daily. And in +presence of this result the others bowed low indeed. There was every +disposition to overlook all possible faults on the nurse's part. She was +the third, and a fourth would mean the child's death; so that she was an +indispensable, a providential helper, one whose services must be retained +at all costs. Moreover, she seemed to have no defects, for she was a +calm, cunning, peasant woman, one who knew how to rule her employers and +extract from them all that was to be extracted. Her conquest of the +Séguins was effected with extraordinary skill. At first some +unpleasantness seemed likely, because Céleste was, on her own side, +pursuing a similar course; but they were both too intelligent to do +otherwise than come to an understanding. As their departments were +distinct, they agreed that they could prosecute parallel invasions. And +from that moment they even helped one another, divided the empire, and +preyed upon the house in company. +</p> +<p> +La Catiche sat upon a throne, served by the other domestics, with her +employers at her feet. The finest dishes were for her; she had her +special wine, her special bread, she had everything most delicate and +most nourishing that could be found. Gluttonous, slothful, and proud, she +strutted about, bending one and all to her fancies. The others gave way +to her in everything to avoid sending her into a temper which might have +spoilt her milk. At her slightest indisposition everybody was distracted. +One night she had an attack of indigestion, and all the doctors in the +neighborhood were rung up to attend on her. Her only real defect, +perhaps, was a slight inclination for pilfering; she appropriated some +linen that was lying about, but madame would not hear of the matter being +mentioned. +</p> +<p> +There was also the chapter of the presents which were heaped on her in +order to keep her in good temper. Apart from the regulation present when +the child cut its first tooth, advantage was taken of various other +occasions, and a ring, a brooch, and a pair of earrings were given her. +Naturally she was the most adorned nurse in the Champs-Elysées, with +superb cloaks and the richest of caps, trimmed with long ribbons which +flared in the sunlight. Never did lady lead a life of more sumptuous +idleness. There were also the presents which she extracted for her +husband and her little girl at the village. Parcels were sent them by +express train every week. And on the morning when news came that her own +baby, carried back by La Couteau, had died from the effects of a bad +cold, she was presented with fifty francs as if in payment for the loss +of her child. Little Andrée, meanwhile, grew ever stronger, and thus La +Catiche rose higher and higher, with the whole house bending low beneath +her tyrannical sway. +</p> +<p> +On the day when Mathieu called to sign the deed which was to insure him +the possession of the little pavilion of Chantebled with some fifty acres +around it, and the privilege of acquiring other parts of the estate on +certain conditions, he found Séguin on the point of starting for Le +Havre, where a friend, a wealthy Englishman, was waiting for him with his +yacht, in order that they might have a month's trip round the coast of +Spain. +</p> +<p> +"Yes," said Séguin feverishly, alluding to some recent heavy losses at +the gaming table, "I'm leaving Paris for a time—I have no luck here +just now. But I wish you plenty of courage and all success, my dear sir. +You know how much I am interested in the attempt you are about to make." +</p> +<p> +A little later that same day Mathieu was crossing the Champs-Elysées, +eager to join Marianne at Chantebled, moved as he was by the decisive +step he had taken, yet quivering also with faith and hope, when in a +deserted avenue he espied a cab waiting, and recognized Santerre inside +it. Then, as a veiled lady furtively sprang into the vehicle, he turned +round wondering: Was that not Valentine? And as the cab drove off he felt +convinced it was. +</p> +<p> +There came other meetings when he reached the main avenue; first Gaston +and Lucie, already tired of play, and dragging about their puny limbs +under the careless supervision of Céleste, who was busy laughing with a +grocer's man; while farther off La Catiche, superb and royal, decked out +like the idol of venal motherhood, was giving little Andrée an outing, +with her long purple ribbons streaming victoriously in the sunshine. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="XI">XI</a></h4> + +<p> +ON the day when the first blow with the pick was dealt, Marianne, with +Gervais in her arms, came and sat down close by, full of happy emotion at +this work of faith and hope which Mathieu was so boldly undertaking. It +was a clear, warm day in the middle of June, with a pure, broad sky that +encouraged confidence. And as the children had been given a holiday, they +played about in the surrounding grass, and one could hear the shrill +cries of little Rose while she amused herself with running after the +three boys. +</p> +<p> +"Will you deal the first blow?" Mathieu gayly asked his wife. +</p> +<p> +But she pointed to her baby. "No, no, I have my work. Deal it yourself, +you are the father." +</p> +<p> +He stood there with two men under his orders, but ready himself to +undertake part of the hard manual toil in order to help on the +realization of his long thought of, ripening scheme. With great prudence +and wisdom he had assured himself a modest livelihood for a year of +effort, by an intelligent scheme of association and advances repayable +out of profits, which would enable him to wait for his first harvest. And +it was his life that he risked on that future crop, should the earth +refuse his worship and his labor. But he was a faithful believer, one who +felt certain of conquering, since love and determination were his. +</p> +<p> +"Well then, here goes!" he gallantly cried. "May the earth prove a good +mother to us!" +</p> +<p> +Then he dealt the first blow with his pick. +</p> +<p> +The work was begun to the left of the old pavilion, in a corner of that +extensive marshy tableland, where little streams coursed on all sides +through the reeds which sprang up everywhere. It was at first simply a +question of draining a few acres by capturing these streams and turning +them into canals, in order to direct them afterwards over the dry sandy +slopes which descended towards the railway line. After an attentive +examination Mathieu had discovered that the work might easily be +executed, and that water-furrows would suffice, such was the disposition +and nature of the ground. This, indeed, was his real discovery, not to +mention the layer of humus which he felt certain would be found amassed +on the plateau, and the wondrous fertility which it would display as soon +as a ploughshare had passed through it. And so with his pick he now began +to open the trench which was to drain the damp soil above, and fertilize +the dry, sterile, thirsty ground below. +</p> +<p> +The open air, however, had doubtless given Gervais an appetite, for he +began to cry. He was now a strong little fellow, three months and a half +old, and never neglected mealtime. He was growing like one of the young +trees in the neighboring wood, with hands which did not easily release +what they grasped, with eyes too full of light, now all laughter and now +all tears, and with the ever open beak of a greedy bird, that raised a +tempest whenever his mother kept him waiting. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, yes, I know you are there," said she; "come, don't deafen us any +longer." +</p> +<p> +Then she gave him the breast and he became quiet, simply purring like a +happy little kitten. The beneficent source had begun to flow once more, +as if it were inexhaustible. The trickling milk murmured unceasingly. One +might have said that it could be heard descending and spreading, while +Mathieu on his side continued opening his trench, assisted by the two men +whose apprenticeship was long since past. +</p> +<p> +He rose up at last, wiped his brow, and with his air of quiet certainty +exclaimed: "It's only a trade to learn. In a few months' time I shall be +nothing but a peasant. Look at that stagnant pond there, green with +water-plants. The spring which feeds it is yonder in that big tuft of +herbage. And when this trench has been opened to the edge of the slope, +you will see the pond dry up, and the spring gush forth and take its +course, carrying the beneficent water away." +</p> +<p> +"Ah!" said Marianne, "may it fertilize all that stony expanse, for +nothing can be sadder than dead land. How happy it will be to quench its +thirst and live again!" +</p> +<p> +Then she broke off to scold Gervais: "Come, young gentleman, don't pull +so hard," said she. "Wait till it comes; you know very well that it's all +for you." +</p> +<p> +Meantime the blows of the pickaxes rang out, the trench rapidly made its +way through the fat, moist soil, and soon the water would flow into the +parched veins of the neighboring sandy tracts to endow them with +fruitfulness. And the light trickling of the mother's milk also continued +with the faint murmur of an inexhaustible source, flowing from her breast +into the mouth of her babe, like a fountain of eternal life. It ever and +ever flowed, it created flesh, intelligence, and labor, and strength. And +soon its whispering would mingle with the babble of the delivered spring +as it descended along the trenches to the dry hot lands. And at last +there would be but one and the same stream, one and the same river, +gradually overflowing and carrying life to all the earth, a mighty river +of nourishing milk flowing through the world's veins, creating without a +pause, and producing yet more youth and more health at each return of +springtide. +</p> +<p> +Four months later, when Mathieu and his men had finished the autumn +ploughing, there came the sowing on the same spot. Marianne was there +again, and it was such a very mild gray day that she was still able to +sit down, and once more gayly give the breast to little Gervais. He was +already eight months old and had become quite a personage. He grew a +little more every day, always in his mother's arms, on that warm breast +whence he sucked life. He was like the seed which clings to the seed-pod +so long as it is not ripe. And at that first quiver of November, that +approach of winter through which the germs would slumber in the furrows, +he pressed his chilly little face close to his mother's warm bosom, and +nursed on in silence as if the river of life were lost, buried deep +beneath the soil. +</p> +<p> +"Ah!" said Marianne, laughing, "you are not warm, young gentleman, are +you? It is time for you to take up your winter quarters." +</p> +<p> +Just then Mathieu, with his sower's bag at his waist, was returning +towards them, scattering the seed with broad rhythmical gestures. He had +heard his wife, and he paused to say to her: "Let him nurse and sleep +till the sun comes back. He will be a man by harvest time." And, pointing +to the great field which he was sowing with his assistants, he added: +"All this will grow and ripen when our Gervais has begun to walk and +talk—just look, see our conquest!" +</p> +<p> +He was proud of it. From ten to fifteen acres of the plateau were now rid +of the stagnant pools, cleared and levelled; and they spread out in a +brown expanse, rich with humus, while the water-furrows which intersected +them carried the streams to the neighboring slopes. Before cultivating +those dry lands one must yet wait until the moisture should have +penetrated and fertilized them. That would be the work of the future, and +thus, by degrees, life would be diffused through the whole estate. +</p> +<p> +"Evening is coming on," resumed Mathieu, "I must make haste." +</p> +<p> +Then he set off again, throwing the seed with his broad rhythmical +gesture. And while Marianne, gravely smiling, watched him go, it occurred +to little Rose to follow in his track, and take up handfuls of earth, +which she scattered to the wind. The three boys perceived her, and Blaise +and Denis then hastened up, followed by Ambroise, all gleefully imitating +their father's gesture, and darting hither and thither around him. And +for a moment it was almost as if Mathieu with the sweep of his arm not +only cast the seed of expected corn into the furrows, but also sowed +those dear children, casting them here and there without cessation, so +that a whole nation of little sowers should spring up and finish +populating the world. +</p> +<p> +Two months more went by, and January had arrived with a hard frost, when +one day the Froments unexpectedly received a visit from Séguin and +Beauchêne, who had come to try their luck at wild-duck shooting, among +such of the ponds on the plateau as had not yet been drained. It was a +Sunday, and the whole family was gathered in the roomy kitchen, cheered +by a big fire. Through the clear windows one could see the far-spreading +countryside, white with rime, and stiffly slumbering under that crystal +casing, like some venerated saint awaiting April's resurrection. And, +that day, when the visitors presented themselves, Gervais also was +slumbering in his white cradle, rendered somnolent by the season, but +plump even as larks are in the cold weather, and waiting, he also, simply +for life's revival, in order to reappear in all the triumph of his +acquired strength. +</p> +<p> +The family had gayly partaken of <i>déjeuner</i>, and now, before +nightfall, the four children had gathered round a table by the window, +absorbed in a playful occupation which delighted them. Helped by +Ambroise, the twins, Blaise and Denis, were building a whole village out +of pieces of cardboard, fixed together with paste. There were houses, a +town hall, a church, a school. And Rose, who had been forbidden to touch +the scissors, presided over the paste, with which she smeared herself +even to her hair. In the deep quietude, through which their laughter +rang at intervals, their father and mother had remained seated side by +side in front of the blazing fire, enjoying that delightful Sunday peace +after the week's hard work. +</p> +<p> +They lived there very simply, like genuine peasants, without any luxury, +any amusement, save that of being together. Their gay, bright kitchen was +redolent of that easy primitive life, lived so near the earth, which +frees one from fictitious wants, ambition, and the longing for pleasure. +And no fortune, no power could have brought such quiet delight as that +afternoon of happy intimacy, while the last-born slept so soundly and +quietly that one could not even hear him breathe. +</p> +<p> +Beauchêne and Séguin broke in upon the quiet like unlucky sportsmen, with +their limbs weary and their faces and hands icy cold. Amid the +exclamations of surprise which greeted them, they complained of the folly +that had possessed them to venture out of Paris in such bleak weather. +</p> +<p> +"Just fancy, my dear fellow," said Beauchêne, "we haven't seen a single +duck! It's no doubt too cold. And you can't imagine what a bitter wind +blows on the plateau, amid those ponds and bushes bristling with icicles. +So we gave up the idea of any shooting. You must give us each a glass of +hot wine, and then we'll get back to Paris." +</p> +<p> +Séguin, who was in even a worse humor, stood before the fire trying to +thaw himself; and while Marianne made haste to warm some wine, he began +to speak of the cleared fields which he had skirted. Under the icy +covering, however, beneath which they stiffly slumbered, hiding the seed +within them, he had guessed nothing of the truth, and already felt +anxious about this business of Mathieu's, which looked anything but +encouraging. Indeed, he already feared that he would not be paid his +purchase money, and so made bold to speak ironically. +</p> +<p> +"I say, my dear fellow, I am afraid you have lost your time," he began; +"I noticed it all as I went by, and it did not seem promising. But how +can you hope to reap anything from rotten soil in which only reeds have +been growing for centuries?" +</p> +<p> +"One must wait," Mathieu quietly answered. "You must come back and see it +all next June." +</p> +<p> +But Beauchêne interrupted them. "There is a train at four o'clock, I +think," said he; "let us make haste, for it would annoy us tremendously +to miss it, would it not, Séguin?" +</p> +<p> +So saying, he gave him a gay, meaning glance. They had doubtless planned +some little spree together, like husbands bent on availing themselves to +the utmost of the convenient pretext of a day's shooting. Then, having +drunk some wine and feeling warmed and livelier, they began to express +astonishment at their surroundings. +</p> +<p> +"It stupefies me, my dear fellow," declared Beauchêne, "that you can live +in this awful solitude in the depth of winter. It is enough to kill +anybody. I am all in favor of work, you know; but, dash it! one must have +some amusement too." +</p> +<p> +"But we do amuse ourselves," said Mathieu, waving his hand round that +rustic kitchen in which centred all their pleasant family life. +</p> +<p> +The two visitors followed his gesture, and gazed in amazement at the +walls covered with utensils, at the rough furniture, and at the table on +which the children were still building their village after offering their +cheeks to be kissed. No doubt they were unable to understand what +pleasure there could possibly be there, for, suppressing a jeering laugh, +they shook their heads. To them it was really an extraordinary life, a +life of most singular taste. +</p> +<p> +"Come and see my little Gervais," said Marianne softly. "He is asleep; +mind, you must not wake him." +</p> +<p> +For politeness' sake they both bent over the cradle, and expressed +surprise at finding a child but ten months old so big. He was very good, +too. Only, as soon as he should wake, he would no doubt deafen everybody. +And then, too, if a fine child like that sufficed to make life happy, how +many people must be guilty of spoiling their lives! The visitors came +back to the fireside, anxious only to be gone now that they felt +enlivened. +</p> +<p> +"So it's understood," said Mathieu, "you won't stay to dinner with us?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh, no, indeed!" they exclaimed in one breath. +</p> +<p> +Then, to attenuate the discourtesy of such a cry, Beauchêne began to +jest, and accepted the invitation for a later date when the warm weather +should have arrived. +</p> +<p> +"On my word of honor, we have business in Paris," he declared. "But I +promise you that when it's fine we will all come and spend a day +here—yes, with our wives and children. And you will then show us your +work, and we shall see if you have succeeded. So good-by! All my good +wishes, my dear fellow! <i>Au revoir</i>, cousin! <i>Au revoir</i>, +children; be good!" +</p> +<p> +Then came more kisses and hand-shakes, and the two men disappeared. And +when the gentle silence had fallen once more Mathieu and Marianne again +found themselves in front of the bright fire, while the children +completed the building of their village with a great consumption of +paste, and Gervais continued sleeping soundly. Had they been dreaming? +Mathieu wondered. What sudden blast from all the shame and suffering of +Paris had blown into their far-away quiet? Outside, the country retained +its icy rigidity. The fire alone sang the song of hope in life's future +revival. And, all at once, after a few minutes' reverie the young man +began to speak aloud, as if he had at last just found the answer to all +sorts of grave questions which he had long since put to himself. +</p> +<p> +"But those folks don't love; they are incapable of loving! Money, power, +ambition, pleasure—yes, all those things may be theirs, but not +love! Even the husbands who deceive their wives do not really love their +mistresses. They have never glowed with the supreme desire, the divine +desire which is the world's very soul, the brazier of eternal life. And +that explains everything. Without desire there is no love, no courage, +and no hope. By love alone can one create. And if love be restricted in +its mission there is but failure ——. Yes, they lie and +deceive, because they do not love. Then they suffer and lapse into moral +and physical degradation. And at the end lies the collapse of our rotten +society, which breaks up more and more each day before our eyes. That, +then, is the truth I was seeking. It is desire and love that save. +Whoever loves and creates is the revolutionary saviour, the maker of men +for the new world which will shortly dawn." +</p> +<p> +Never before had Mathieu so plainly understood that he and his wife were +different from others. This now struck him with extraordinary force. +Comparisons ensued, and he realized that their simple life, free from the +lust of wealth, their contempt for luxury and worldly vanities, all their +common participation in toil which made them accept and glorify life and +its duties, all that mode of existence of theirs which was at once their +joy and their strength, sprang solely from the source of eternal energy: +the love with which they glowed. If, later on, victory should remain with +them, if they should some day leave behind them work of value and health +and happiness, it would be solely because they had possessed the power of +love and the courage to love freely, harvesting, in an ever-increasing +family, both the means of support and the means of conquest. And this +sudden conviction filled Mathieu with such a glow that he leant towards +his wife, who sat there deeply moved by what he said, and kissed her +ardently upon the lips. It was divine love passing like a flaming blast. +But she, though her own eyes were sparkling, laughingly scolded him, +saying: "Hush, hush, you will wake Gervais." +</p> +<p> +Then they remained there hand in hand, pressing each other's fingers amid +the silence. Evening was coming on, and at last the children, their +village finished, raised cries of rapture at seeing it standing there +among bits of wood, which figured trees. And then the softened glances of +the parents strayed now through the window towards the crops sleeping +beneath the crystalline rime, and now towards their last-born's cradle, +where hope was likewise slumbering. +</p> +<p> +Again did two long months go by. Gervais had just completed his first +year, and fine weather, setting in early, was hastening the awaking of +the earth. One morning, when Marianne and the children went to join +Mathieu on the plateau, they raised shouts of wonder, so completely had +the sun transformed the expanse in a single week. It was now all green +velvet, a thick endless carpet of sprouting corn, of tender, delicate +emerald hue. Never had such a marvellous crop been seen. And thus, as the +family walked on through the mild, radiant April morning, amid the +country now roused from winter's sleep, and quivering with fresh youth, +they all waxed merry at the sight of that healthfulness, that progressing +fruitfulness, which promised the fulfilment of all their hopes. And their +rapture yet increased when, all at once, they noticed that little Gervais +also was awaking to life, acquiring decisive strength. As he struggled in +his little carriage and his mother removed him from it, behold! he took +his flight, and, staggering, made four steps; then hung to his father's +legs with his little fists. A cry of extraordinary delight burst forth. +</p> +<p> +"Why! he walks, he walks!" +</p> +<p> +Ah! those first lispings of life, those successive flights of the dear +little ones; the first glance, the first smile, the first +step—what joy do they not bring to parents' hearts! They are the +rapturous <i>étapes</i> of infancy, for which father and mother watch, +which they await impatiently, which they hail with exclamations of +victory, as if each were a conquest, a fresh triumphal entry into life. +The child grows, the child becomes a man. And there is yet the first +tooth, forcing its way like a needle-point through rosy gums; and there +is also the first stammered word, the "pa-pa," the "mam-ma," which one +is quite ready to detect amid the vaguest babble, though it be but the +purring of a kitten, the chirping of a bird. Life does its work, and the +father and the mother are ever wonderstruck with admiration and emotion +at the sight of that efflorescence alike of their flesh and their souls. +</p> +<p> +"Wait a moment," said Marianne, "he will come back to me. Gervais! +Gervais!" +</p> +<p> +And after a little hesitation, a false start, the child did indeed +return, taking the four steps afresh, with arms extended and beating the +air as if they were balancing-poles. +</p> +<p> +"Gervais! Gervais!" called Mathieu in his turn. And the child went back +to him; and again and again did they want him to repeat the journey, amid +their mirthful cries, so pretty and so funny did they find him. +</p> +<p> +Then, seeing that the four other children began playing rather roughly +with him in their enthusiasm, Marianne carried him away. And once more, +on the same spot, on the young grass, did she give him the breast. And +again did the stream of milk trickle forth. +</p> +<p> +Close by that spot, skirting the new field, there passed a crossroad, in +rather bad condition, leading to a neighboring village. And on this road +a cart suddenly came into sight, jolting amid the ruts, and driven by a +peasant—who was so absorbed in his contemplation of the land which +Mathieu had cleared, that he would have let his horse climb upon a heap +of stones had not a woman who accompanied him abruptly pulled the reins. +The horse then stopped, and the man in a jeering voice called out: "So +this, then, is your work, Monsieur Froment?" +</p> +<p> +Mathieu and Marianne thereupon recognized the Lepailleurs, the people of +the mill. They were well aware that folks laughed at Janville over the +folly of their attempt—that mad idea of growing wheat among the +marshes of the plateau. Lepailleur, in particular, distinguished himself +by the violent raillery he levelled at this Parisian, a gentleman born, +with a good berth, who was so stupid as to make himself a peasant, and +fling what money he had to that rascally earth, which would assuredly +swallow him and his children and his money all together, without +yielding even enough wheat to keep them in bread. And thus the sight of +the field had stupefied him. It was a long while since he had passed +that way, and he had never thought that the seed would sprout so +thickly, for he had repeated a hundred times that nothing would +germinate, so rotten was all the land. Although he almost choked with +covert anger at seeing his predictions thus falsified, he was unwilling +to admit his error, and put on an air of ironical doubt. +</p> +<p> +"So you think it will grow, eh? Well, one can't say that it hasn't come +up. Only one must see if it can stand and ripen." And as Mathieu quietly +smiled with hope and confidence, he added, striving to poison his joy: +"Ah! when you know the earth you'll find what a hussy she is. I've seen +plenty of crops coming on magnificently, and then a storm, a gust of +wind, a mere trifle, has reduced them to nothing! But you are young at +the trade as yet; you'll get your experience in misfortune." +</p> +<p> +His wife, who nodded approval on hearing him talk so finely, then +addressed herself to Marianne: "Oh! my man doesn't say that to discourage +you, madame. But the land you know, is just like children. There are some +who live and some who die; some who give one pleasure, and others who +kill one with grief. But, all considered, one always bestows more on them +than one gets back, and in the end one finds oneself duped. You'll see, +you'll see." +</p> +<p> +Without replying, Marianne, moved by these malicious predictions, gently +raised her trustful eyes to Mathieu. And he, though for a moment +irritated by all the ignorance, envy, and imbecile ambition which he felt +were before him, contented himself with jesting. "That's it, we'll see. +When your son Antoine becomes a prefect, and I have twelve peasant +daughters ready, I'll invite you to their weddings, for it's your mill +that ought to be rebuilt, you know, and provided with a fine engine, so +as to grind all the corn of my property yonder, left and right, +everywhere!" +</p> +<p> +The sweep of his arm embraced such a far expanse of ground that the +miller, who did not like to be derided, almost lost his temper. He lashed +his horse with his whip, and the cart jolted on again through the ruts. +</p> +<p> +"Wheat in the ear is not wheat in the mill," said he. "<i>Au revoir</i>, +and good luck to you, all the same." +</p> +<p> +"Thanks, <i>au revoir</i>." +</p> +<p> +Then, while the children still ran about, seeking early primroses among +the mosses, Mathieu came and sat down beside Marianne, who, he saw, was +quivering. He said nothing to her, for he knew that she possessed +sufficient strength and confidence to surmount, unaided, such fears for +the future as threats might kindle in her womanly heart. But he simply +set himself there, so near her that he touched her, looking and smiling +at her the while. And she immediately became calm again and likewise +smiled, while little Gervais, whom the words of the malicious could not +as yet disturb, nursed more eagerly than ever, with a purr of rapturous +satisfaction. The milk was ever trickling, bringing flesh to little limbs +which grew stronger day by day, spreading through the earth, filling the +whole world, nourishing the life which increased hour by hour. And was +not this the answer which faith and hope returned to all threats of +death?—the certainty of life's victory, with fine children ever +growing in the sunlight, and fine crops ever rising from the soil at each +returning spring! To-morrow, yet once again, on the glorious day of +harvest, the corn will have ripened, the children will be men! +</p> +<p> +And it was thus, indeed, three months later, when the Beauchênes and +the Séguins, keeping their promise, came—husbands, wives, and +children—to spend a Sunday afternoon at Chantebled. The Froments +had even prevailed on Morange to be of the party with Reine, in their +desire to draw him for a day, at any rate, from the dolorous prostration +in which he lived. As soon as all these fine folks had alighted from the +train it was decided to go up to the plateau to see the famous fields, +for everybody was curious about them, so extravagant and inexplicable +did the idea of Mathieu's return to the soil, and transformation into a +peasant, seem to them. He laughed gayly, and at least he succeeded in +surprising them when he waved his hand towards the great expanse under +the broad blue sky, that sea of tall green stalks whose ears were +already heavy and undulated at the faintest breeze. That warm splendid +afternoon, the far-spreading fields looked like the very triumph of +fruitfulness, a growth of germs which the humus amassed through +centuries had nourished with prodigious sap, thus producing this first +formidable crop, as if to glorify the eternal source of life which +sleeps in the earth's flanks. The milk had streamed, and the corn now +grew on all sides with overflowing energy, creating health and strength, +bespeaking man's labor and the kindliness, the solidarity of the world. +It was like a beneficent, nourishing ocean, in which all hunger would be +appeased, and in which to-morrow might arise, amid that tide of wheat +whose waves were ever carrying good news to the horizon. +</p> +<p> +True, neither Constance nor Valentine was greatly touched by the sight of +the waving wheat, for other ambitions filled their minds: and Morange, +though he stared with his vague dim eyes, did not even seem to see it. +But Beauchêne and Séguin marvelled, for they remembered their visit in +the month of January, when the frozen ground had been wrapt in sleep and +mystery. They had then guessed nothing, and now they were amazed at this +miraculous awakening, this conquering fertility, which had changed a part +of the marshy tableland into a field of living wealth. And Séguin, in +particular, did not cease praising and admiring, certain as he now felt +that he would be paid, and already hoping that Mathieu would soon take a +further portion of the estate off his hands. +</p> +<p> +Then, as soon as they had walked to the old pavilion, now transformed +into a little farm, and had seated themselves in the garden, pending +dinner-time, the conversation fell upon children. Marianne, as it +happened, had weaned Gervais the day before, and he was there among the +ladies, still somewhat unsteady on his legs, and yet boldly going from +one to the other, careless of his frequent falls on his back or his nose. +He was a gay-spirited child who seldom lost his temper, doubtless because +his health was so good. His big clear eyes were ever laughing; he offered +his little hands in a friendly way, and was very white, very pink, and +very sturdy—quite a little man indeed, though but fifteen and a half +months old. Constance and Valentine admired him, while Marianne jested +and turned him away each time that he greedily put out his little hands +towards her. +</p> +<p> +"No, no, monsieur, it's over now. You will have nothing but soup in +future." +</p> +<p> +"Weaning is such a terrible business," then remarked Constance. "Did he +let you sleep last night?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh! yes, he had good habits, you know; he never troubled me at night. +But this morning he was stupefied and began to cry. Still, you see, he is +fairly well behaved already. Besides, I never had more trouble than this +with the other ones." +</p> +<p> +Beauchêne was standing there, listening, and, as usual, smoking a cigar. +Constance appealed to him: +</p> +<p> +"You are lucky. But you, dear, remember—don't you?—what a +life Maurice led us when his nurse went away. For three whole nights we +were unable to sleep." +</p> +<p> +"But just look how your Maurice is playing!" exclaimed Beauchêne. "Yet +you'll be telling me again that he is ill." +</p> +<p> +"Oh! I no longer say that, my friend; he is quite well now. Besides, I +was never anxious; I know that he is very strong." +</p> +<p> +A great game of hide-and-seek was going on in the garden, along the +paths and even over the flower-beds, among the eight children who were +assembled there. Besides the four of the house—Blaise, Denis, +Ambroise, and Rose—there were Gaston and Lucie, the two elder +children of the Séguins, who had abstained, however, from bringing +their other daughter—little Andrée. Then, too, both Reine and +Maurice were present. And the latter now, indeed, seemed to be all right +upon his legs, though his square face with its heavy jaw still remained +somewhat pale. His mother watched him running about, and felt so happy +and so vain at the realization of her dream that she became quite +amiable even towards these poor relatives the Froments, whose retirement +into the country seemed to her like an incomprehensible downfall, which +forever thrust them out of her social sphere. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! well," resumed Beauchêne, "I've only one boy, but he's a sturdy +fellow, I warrant it; isn't he, Mathieu?" +</p> +<p> +These words had scarcely passed his lips when he must have regretted +them. His eyelids quivered and a little chill came over him as his glance +met that of his former designer. For in the latter's clear eyes he +beheld, as it were, a vision of that other son, Norine's ill-fated child, +who had been cast into the unknown. Then there came a pause, and amid the +shrill cries of the boys and girls playing at hide-and-seek a number of +little shadows flitted through the sunlight: they were the shadows of the +poor doomed babes who scarce saw the light before they were carried off +from homes and hospitals to be abandoned in corners, and die of cold, and +perhaps even of starvation! +</p> +<p> +Mathieu had been unable to answer a word. And his emotion increased when +he noticed Morange huddled up on a chair, and gazing with blurred, +tearful eyes at little Gervais, who was laughingly toddling hither and +thither. Had a vision come to him also? Had the phantom of his dead wife, +shrinking from the duties of motherhood and murdered in a hateful den, +risen before him in that sunlit garden, amid all the turbulent mirth of +happy, playful children? +</p> +<p> +"What a pretty girl your daughter Reine is!" said Mathieu, in the hope of +drawing the accountant from his haunting remorse. "Just look at her +running about!—so girlish still, as if she were not almost old enough +to be married." +</p> +<p> +Morange slowly raised his head and looked at his daughter. And a smile +returned to his eyes, still moist with tears. Day by day his adoration +increased. As Reine grew up he found her more and more like her mother, +and all his thoughts became centred in her. His one yearning was that +she might be very beautiful, very happy, very rich. That would be a sign +that he was forgiven—that would be the only joy for which he could +yet hope. And amid it all there was a vague feeling of jealousy at the +thought that a husband would some day take her from him, and that he +would remain alone in utter solitude, alone with the phantom of his dead +wife. +</p> +<p> +"Married?" he murmured; "oh! not yet. She is only fourteen." +</p> +<p> +At this the others expressed surprise: they would have taken her to be +quite eighteen, so womanly was her precocious beauty already. +</p> +<p> +"As a matter of fact," resumed her father, feeling flattered, "she has +already been asked in marriage. You know that the Baroness de Lowicz is +kind enough to take her out now and then. Well, she told me that an +arch-millionnaire had fallen in love with Reine—but he'll have to +wait! I shall still be able to keep her to myself for another five or +six years at least!" +</p> +<p> +He no longer wept, but gave a little laugh of egotistical satisfaction, +without noticing the chill occasioned by the mention of Séraphine's name; +for even Beauchêne felt that his sister was hardly a fit companion for a +young girl. +</p> +<p> +Then Marianne, anxious at seeing the conversation drop, began, +questioning Valentine, while Gervais at last slyly crept to her knees. +</p> +<p> +"Why did you not bring your little Andrée?" she inquired. "I should have +been so pleased to kiss her. And she would have been able to play with +this little gentleman, who, you see, does not leave me a moment's peace." +</p> +<p> +But Séguin did not give his wife time to reply. "Ah! no, indeed!" he +exclaimed; "in that case I should not have come. It is quite enough to +have to drag the two others about. That fearful child has not ceased +deafening us ever since her nurse went away." +</p> +<p> +Valentine then explained that Andrée was not really well behaved. She had +been weaned at the beginning of the previous week, and La Catiche, after +terrorizing the household for more than a year, had plunged it by her +departure into anarchy. Ah! that Catiche, she might compliment herself on +all the money she had cost! Sent away almost by force, like a queen who +is bound to abdicate at last, she had been loaded with presents for +herself and her husband, and her little girl at the village! And now it +had been of little use to take a dry-nurse in her place, for Andrée did +not cease shrieking from morning till night. They had discovered, too, +that La Catiche had not only carried off with her a large quantity of +linen, but had left the other servants quite spoilt, disorganized, so +that a general clearance seemed necessary. +</p> +<p> +"Oh!" resumed Marianne, as if to smooth things, "when the children are +well one can overlook other worries." +</p> +<p> +"Why, do you imagine that Andrée is well?" cried Séguin, giving way to +one of his brutal fits. "That Catiche certainly set her right at first, +but I don't know what happened afterwards, for now she is simply skin and +bones." Then, as his wife wished to protest, he lost his temper. "Do you +mean to say that I don't speak the truth? Why, look at our two others +yonder: they have <i>papier-mâché</i> faces, too! It is evident that you +don't look after them enough. You know what a poor opinion Santerre has of +them!" +</p> +<p> +For him Santerre's opinion remained authoritative. However, Valentine +contented herself with shrugging her shoulders; while the others, feeling +slightly embarrassed, looked at Gaston and Lucie, who amid the romping of +their companions, soon lost breath and lagged behind, sulky and +distrustful. +</p> +<p> +"But, my dear friend," said Constance to Valentine, "didn't our good +Doctor Boutan tell you that all the trouble came from your not nursing +your children yourself? At all events, that was the compliment that he +paid me." +</p> +<p> +At the mention of Boutan a friendly shout arose. Oh! Boutan, Boutan! he +was like all other specialists. Séguin sneered; Beauchêne jested about +the legislature decreeing compulsory nursing by mothers; and only Mathieu +and Marianne remained silent. +</p> +<p> +"Of course, my dear friend, we are not jesting about you," said +Constance, turning towards the latter. "Your children are superb, and +nobody says the contrary." +</p> +<p> +Marianne gayly waved her hand, as if to reply that they were free to make +fun of her if they pleased. But at this moment she perceived that +Gervais, profiting by her inattention, was busy seeking his "paradise +lost." And thereupon she set him on the ground: "Ah, no, no, monsieur!" +she exclaimed. "I have told you that it is all over. Can't you see that +people would laugh at us?" +</p> +<p> +Then for her and her husband came a delightful moment. He was looking at +her with deep emotion. Her duty accomplished, she was now returning to +him, for she was spouse as well as mother. Never had he thought her so +beautiful, possessed of so strong and so calm a beauty, radiant with the +triumph of happy motherhood, as though indeed a spark of something divine +had been imparted to her by that river of milk that had streamed from her +bosom. A song of glory seemed to sound, glory to the source of life, +glory to the true mother, to the one who nourishes, her travail o'er. For +there is none other; the rest are imperfect and cowardly, responsible for +incalculable disasters. And on seeing her thus, in that glory, amid her +vigorous children, like the good goddess of Fruitfulness, Mathieu felt +that he adored her. Divine passion swept by—the glow which makes the +fields palpitate, which rolls on through the waters, and floats in the +wind, begetting millions and millions of existences. And 'twas delightful +the ecstasy into which they both sank, forgetfulness of all else, of all +those others who were there. They saw them no longer; they felt but one +desire, to say that they loved each other, and that the season had come +when love blossoms afresh. His lips protruded, she offered hers, and then +they kissed. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! don't disturb yourselves!" cried Beauchêne merrily. "Why, what is +the matter with you?" +</p> +<p> +"Would you like us to move away?" added Séguin. +</p> +<p> +But while Valentine laughed wildly, and Constance put on a prudish air, +Morange, in whose voice tears were again rising, spoke these words, +fraught with supreme regret: "Ah! you are right!" +</p> +<p> +Astonished at what they had done, without intention of doing it, Mathieu +and Marianne remained for a moment speechless, looking at one another in +consternation. And then they burst into a hearty laugh, gayly excusing +themselves. To love! to love! to be able to love! Therein lies all +health, all will, and all power. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="XII">XII</a></h4> + +<p> +FOUR years went by. And during those four years Mathieu and Marianne had +two more children, a daughter at the end of the first year and a son at +the expiration of the third. And each time that the family thus +increased, the estate at Chantebled was increased also—on the first +occasion by fifty more acres of rich soil reclaimed among the marshes of +the plateau, and the second time by an extensive expanse of wood and +moorland which the springs were beginning to fertilize. It was the +resistless conquest of life, it was fruitfulness spreading in the +sunlight, it was labor ever incessantly pursuing its work of creation +amid obstacles and suffering, making good all losses, and at each +succeeding hour setting more energy, more health, and more joy in the +veins of the world. +</p> +<p> +On the day when Mathieu called on Séguin to purchase the wood and +moorland, he lunched with Dr. Boutan, whom he found in an execrable +humor. The doctor had just heard that three of his former patients had +lately passed through the hands of his colleague Gaude, the notorious +surgeon to whose clinic at the Marbeuf Hospital society Paris flocked as +to a theatre. One of these patients was none other than Euphrasie, old +Moineaud's eldest daughter, now married to Auguste Bénard, a mason, and +already the mother of three children. She had doubtless resumed her usual +avocations too soon after the birth of her last child, as often happens +in working-class families where the mother is unable to remain idle. At +all events, she had for some time been ailing, and had finally been +removed to the hospital. Mathieu had for a while employed her young +sister Cécile, now seventeen, as a servant in the house at Chantebled, +but she was of poor health and had returned to Paris, where, curiously +enough, she also entered Doctor Gaude's clinic. And Boutan waxed +indignant at the methods which Gaude employed. The two sisters, the +married woman and the girl, had been discharged as cured, and so far, +this might seem to be the case; but time, in Boutan's opinion, would +bring round some terrible revenges. +</p> +<p> +One curious point of the affair was that Beauchêne's dissolute sister, +Séraphine, having heard of these so-called cures, which the newspapers +had widely extolled, had actually sought out the Bénards and the +Moineauds to interview Euphrasie and Cécile on the subject. And in the +result she likewise had placed herself in Gaude's hands. She certainly +was of little account, and, whatever might become of her, the world would +be none the poorer by her death. But Boutan pointed out that during the +fifteen years that Gaude's theories and practices had prevailed in +France, no fewer than half a million women had been treated accordingly, +and, in the vast majority of cases, without any such treatment being +really necessary. Moreover, Boutan spoke feelingly of the after results +of such treatment—comparative health for a few brief years, followed +in some cases by a total loss of muscular energy, and in others by insanity +of a most violent form; so that the padded cells of the madhouses were +filling year by year with the unhappy women who had passed through the +hands of Gaude and his colleagues. From a social point of view also the +effects were disastrous. They ran counter to all Boutan's own theories, +and blasted all his hopes of living to see France again holding a +foremost place among the nations of the earth. +</p> +<p> +"Ah!" said he to Mathieu, "if people were only like you and your good +wife!" +</p> +<p> +During those four years at Chantebled the Froments had been ever +founding, creating, increasing, and multiplying, again and again proving +victorious in the eternal battle which life wages against death, thanks +to that continual increase both of offspring and of fertile land which +was like their very existence, their joy and their strength. Desire +passed like a gust of flame—desire divine and fruitful, since they +possessed the power of love, kindliness, and health. And their energy did +the rest—that will of action, that quiet bravery in the presence of +the labor that is necessary, the labor that has made and that regulates the +earth. But during the first two years they had to struggle incessantly. +There were two disastrous winters with snow and ice, and March brought +hail-storms and hurricanes which left the crops lying low. Even as +Lepailleur had threateningly predicted with a laugh of impotent envy, it +seemed as if the earth meant to prove a bad mother, ungrateful to them +for their toil, indifferent to their losses. During those two years they +only extricated themselves from trouble thanks to the second fifty acres +that they purchased from Séguin, to the west of the plateau, a fresh +expanse of rich soil which they reclaimed amid the marshes, and which, in +spite of frost and hail, yielded a prodigious first harvest. As the +estate gradually expanded, it also grew stronger, better able to bear +ill-luck. +</p> +<p> +But Mathieu and Marianne also had great family worries. Their five elder +children gave them much anxiety, much fatigue. As with the soil, here +again there was a daily battle, endless cares and endless fears. Little +Gervais was stricken with fever and narrowly escaped death. Rose, too, +one day filled them with the direst alarm, for she fell from a tree in +their presence, but fortunately with no worse injury than a sprain. And, +on the other hand, they were happy in the three others, Blaise, Denis, +and Ambroise, who proved as healthy as young oak-trees. And when Marianne +gave birth to her sixth child, on whom they bestowed the gay name of +Claire, Mathieu celebrated the new pledge of their affection by further +acquisitions. +</p> +<p> +Then, during the two ensuing years, their battles and sadness and joy all +resulted in victory once more. Marianne gave birth, and Mathieu conquered +new lands. There was ever much labor, much life expended, and much life +realized and harvested. This time it was a question of enlarging the +estate on the side of the moorlands, the sandy, gravelly slopes where +nothing had grown for centuries. The captured sources of the tableland, +directed towards those uncultivated tracts, gradually fertilized them, +covered them with increasing vegetation. There were partial failures at +first, and defeat even seemed possible, so great was the patient +determination which the creative effort demanded. But here, too, the +crops at last overflowed, while the intelligent felling of a part of the +purchased woods resulted in a large profit, and gave Mathieu an idea of +cultivating some of the spacious clearings hitherto overgrown with +brambles. +</p> +<p> +And while the estate spread the children grew. It had been necessary to +send the three elder ones—Blaise, Denis, and Ambroise—to a +school in Paris, whither they gallantly repaired each day by the first +train, returning only in the evening. But the three others, little +Gervais and the girls Rose and Claire, were still allowed all freedom in +the midst of Nature. Marianne, however, gave birth to a seventh child, +amid circumstances which caused Mathieu keen anxiety. For a moment, +indeed, he feared that he might lose her. But her healthful temperament +triumphed over all, and the child—a boy, named +Grégoire—soon drank life and strength from her breast, as from +the very source of existence. When Mathieu saw his wife smiling again +with that dear little one in her arms, he embraced her passionately, and +triumphed once again over every sorrow and every pang. Yet another +child, yet more wealth and power, yet an additional force born into the +world, another field ready for to-morrow's harvest. +</p> +<p> +And 'twas ever the great work, the good work, the work of fruitfulness +spreading, thanks to the earth and to woman, both victorious over +destruction, offering fresh means of subsistence each time a fresh child +was born, and loving, willing, battling, toiling even amid suffering, and +ever tending to increase of life and increase of hope. +</p> + +<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> + +<p> +Then two more years rolled on. And during those two years Mathieu and +Marianne had yet another child, a girl. And again, at the same time as +the family increased, the estate of Chantebled was increased +also—on one side by five-and-seventy acres of woodland stretching +over the plateau as far as the fields of Mareuil, and on the other by +five-and-seventy acres of sloping moorland, extending to the village of +Monval, alongside the railway line. But the principal change was that, +as the old hunting-box, the little dilapidated pavilion, no longer +offered sufficient accommodation, a whole farmstead had to be +erected—stone buildings, and barns, and sheds, and stables, and +cowhouses—for farm hands and crops and animals, whose number +increased at each enlargement of the estate. +</p> +<p> +It was the resistless conquest of life; it was fruitfulness spreading in +the sunlight; it was labor ever incessantly pursuing its work of creation +amid obstacles and suffering, ever making good all losses, and at each +succeeding hour setting more energy, more health, and more joy in the +veins of the world. +</p> +<p> +But during those two years, while Chantebled grew, while labor and worry +and victory alternated, Mathieu suddenly found himself mixed up in a +terribly tragedy. He was obliged to come to Paris at times—more often +indeed than he cared—now through his business relations with Séguin, +now to sell, now to buy, now to order one thing or another. He often +purchased implements and appliances at the Beauchêne works, and had thus +kept up intercourse with Morange, who once more seemed a changed man. +Time had largely healed the wound left by his wife's death, particularly +as she seemed to live again in Reine, to whom he was more attached than +ever. Reine was no longer a child; she had become a woman. Still her +father hoped to keep her with him some years yet, while working with all +diligence, saving and saving every penny that he could spare, in order to +increase her dowry. +</p> +<p> +But the inevitable was on the march, for the girl had become the constant +companion of Séraphine. The latter, however depraved she might be, had +certainly in the first instance entertained no idea of corrupting the +child whom she patronized. She had at first taken her solely to such +places of amusement as were fit for her years and understanding. But +little by little the descent had come. Reine, too, as she grew into a +woman, amid the hours of idleness when she was left alone by her +father—who, perforce, had to spend his days at the Beauchêne +works—developed an ardent temperament and a thirst for every +frivolous pleasure. And by degrees the once simply petted child became a +participator in Séraphine's own reckless and dissolute life. +</p> +<p> +When the end came, and Reine found herself in dire trouble because of a +high State functionary, a married man, a friend of Séraphine's—both +women quite lost their heads. Such a blow might kill Morange. Everything +must be hidden from him; but how? Thereupon Séraphine devised a plan. She +obtained permission for Reine to accompany her on a visit into the +country; but while the fond father imagined that his daughter was +enjoying herself among society folk at a chateau in the Loiret, she was +really hiding in Paris. It was indeed a repetition of her mother's tragic +story, with this difference—that Séraphine addressed herself to no +vulgar Madame Rouche, but to an assistant of her own surgeon, Gaude, a +certain Sarraille, who had a dingy den of a clinic in the Passage Tivoli. +</p> +<p> +It was a bright day in August, and Mathieu, who had come to Paris to make +some purchases at the Beauchêne works, was lunching alone with Morange at +the latter's flat, when Séraphine arrived there breathless and in +consternation. Reine, she said, had been taken ill in the country, and +she had brought her back to Paris to her own flat. But it was not +thither; it was to Sarraille's den that she drove Morange and Mathieu. +And there the frightful scene which had been enacted at La Rouche's at +the time of Valérie's death was repeated. Reine, too, was dead—dead +like her mother! And Morange, in a first outburst of fury threatened both +Séraphine and Sarraille with the scaffold. For half an hour there was no +mastering him, but all at once he broke down. To lose his daughter as he +had lost his wife, it was too appalling; the blow was too great; he had +strength left only to weep. Sarraille, moreover, defended himself; he +swore that he had known nothing of the truth, that the deceased had +simply come to him for legitimate treatment, and that both she and the +Baroness had deceived him. Then Séraphine on her side took hold of +Morange's hands, protesting her devotion, her frightful grief, her fear, +too, lest the reputation of the poor dear girl should be dragged through +the mire, if he (the father) did not keep the terrible secret. She +accepted her share of responsibility and blame, admitted that she had +been very culpable, and spoke of eternal remorse. But might the terrible +truth be buried in the dead girl's grave, might there be none but pure +flowers strewn upon that grave, might she who lay therein be regretted by +all who had known her, as one snatched away in all innocence of youth and +beauty! +</p> +<p> +And Morange yielded to his weakness of heart, stifling the while with +sobs, and scarce repeating that word "Murderers!" which had sprung from +his lips so impulsively a little while before. He thought, too, of the +scandal, an autopsy, a court of law, the newspapers recounting the crime, +his daughter's memory covered with mire, and—No! no! he could have +none of that. Whatever Séraphine might be, she had spoken rightly. +</p> +<p> +Then his powerlessness to avenge his daughter completed his prostration. +It was as if he had been beaten almost to the point of death; every one +of his limbs was bruised, his head seemed empty, his heart cold and +scarce able to beat. And he sank into a sort of second childhood, +clasping his hands and stammering plaintively, terrified, and beseeching +compassion, like one whose sufferings are too hard to bear. +</p> +<p> +And when Mathieu sought to console him he muttered: "Oh, it is all over. +They have both gone, one after the other, and I alone am guilty. The +first time it was I who lied to Reine, telling her that her mother was +travelling; and then she in her turn lied to me the other day with that +story of an invitation to a chateau in the country. Ah! if eight years +ago I had only opposed my poor Valérie's madness, my poor Reine would +still be alive to-day.... Yes, it is all my fault; I alone killed them +by my weakness. I am their murderer." +</p> +<p> +Shivering, deathly cold, he went on amid his sobs: "And, wretched fool +that I have been, I have killed them through loving them too much. They +were so beautiful, and it was so excusable for them to be rich and gay +and happy. One after the other they took my heart from me, and I lived +only in them and by them and for them. When one had left me, the other +became my all in all, and for her, my daughter, I again indulged in the +dream of ambition which had originated with her mother. And yet I killed +them both, and my mad desire to rise and conquer fortune led me to that +twofold crime. Ah! when I think that even this morning I still dared to +esteem myself happy at having but that one child, that daughter to +cherish! What foolish blasphemy against love and life! She is dead now, +dead like her mother, and I am alone, with nobody to love and nobody to +love me—neither wife nor daughter, neither desire nor will, but +alone—ah! all alone, forever!" +</p> +<p> +It was the cry of supreme abandonment that he raised, while sinking to +the floor strengthless, with a great void within him; and all he could do +was to press Mathieu's hands and stammer: "Leave me—tell me nothing. +You alone were right. I refused the offers of life, and life has now taken +everything from me." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu, in tears himself, kissed him and lingered yet a few moments +longer in that tragic den, feeling more moved than he had ever felt +before. And when he went off he left the unhappy Morange in the charge of +Séraphine, who now treated him like a little ailing child whose +will-power was entirely gone. +</p> +<p> +And at Chantebled, as time went on, Mathieu and Marianne founded, +created, increased, and multiplied. During the two years which elapsed, +they again proved victorious in the eternal battle which life wages +against death, thanks to that continual increase both of offspring and +of fertile land which was like their very existence, their joy, and +their strength. Desire passed like a gust of flame—desire divine +and fruitful, since they possessed the power of love, kindliness, and +health. And their energy did the rest—that will of action, that +quiet bravery in the presence of the labor that is necessary, the labor +that has made and that regulates the world. They were, however, still in +the hard, trying, earlier stage of their work of conquest, and they +often wept with grief and anxiety. Many were their cares, too, in +transforming the old pavilion into a farm. The outlay was considerable, +and at times it seemed as if the crops would never pay the building +accounts. Moreover, as the enterprise grew in magnitude, and there came +more and more cattle, more and more horses, a larger staff of both men +and girls became necessary, to say nothing of additional implements and +appliances, and the increase of supervision which left the Froments +little rest. Mathieu controlled the agricultural part of the enterprise, +ever seeking improved methods for drawing from the earth all the life +that slumbered within it. And Marianne watched over the farmyard, the +dairy, the poultry, and showed herself a first-class accountant, keeping +the books, and receiving and paying money. And thus, in spite of +recurring worries, strokes of bad luck and inevitable mistakes, fortune +smiled on them athwart all worries and losses, so brave and sensible did +they prove in their incessant daily struggle. +</p> +<p> +Apart, too, from the new buildings, the estate was increased by +five-and-seventy acres of woodland, and five-and-seventy acres of sandy +sloping soil. Mathieu's battle with those sandy slopes became yet keener, +more and more heroic as his field of action expanded; but he ended by +conquering, by fertilizing them yet more each season, thanks to the +fructifying springs which he directed through them upon every side. And +in the same way he cut broad roads through the new woods which he +purchased on the plateau, in order to increase the means of communication +and carry into effect his idea of using the clearings as pasture for his +cattle, pending the time when he might largely devote himself to +stock-raising. In this wise, then, the battle went on, and spread +incessantly in all directions; and the chances of decisive victory +likewise increased, compensation for possible loss on one side being +found on another where the harvest proved prodigious. +</p> +<p> +And, like the estate, the children also grew. Blaise and Denis, the +twins, now already fourteen years of age, reaped prize after prize at +school, putting their younger brother, Ambroise, slightly to shame, for +his quick and ingenious mind was often busy with other matters than his +lessons. Gervais, the girls Rose and Claire, as well as the last-born +boy, little Grégoire, were yet too young to be trusted alone in Paris, +and so they continued growing in the open air of the country, without any +great mishap befalling them. And at the end of those two years Marianne +gave birth to her eighth child, this time a girl, named Louise; and when +Mathieu saw her smiling with the dear little babe in her arms, he +embraced her passionately, and triumphed once again over every sorrow and +every pang. Yet another child, yet more wealth and power, yet an +additional force born into the world, another field ready for to-morrow's +harvest. +</p> +<p> +And 'twas ever the great work, the good work, the work of fruitfulness +spreading, thanks to the earth and thanks to woman, both victorious over +destruction, offering fresh means of subsistence each time a fresh child +was born, and loving, willing, battling, toiling, even amid suffering, +and ever tending to increase of life and increase of hope. +</p> + +<div class="tb">* * * * *</div> + +<p> +Then two more years rolled on, and during those two years Mathieu and +Marianne had yet another child, another daughter, whom they called +Madeleine. And once again the estate of Chantebled was increased; this +time by all the marshland whose ponds and whose springs remained to be +drained and captured on the west of the plateau. The whole of this part +of the property was now acquired by the Froments—two hundred acres of +land where, hitherto, only water plants had grown, but which now was +given over to cultivation, and yielded abundant crops. And the new +springs, turned into canals on every side, again carried beneficent life +to the sandy slopes, and fertilized them. It was life's resistless +conquest; it was fruitfulness spreading in the sunlight; it was labor +ever incessantly pursuing its work of creation amid obstacles and +suffering, making good all losses, and at each succeeding hour setting +more energy, more health, and more joy in the veins of the world. +</p> +<p> +This time it was Séguin himself who asked Mathieu to purchase a fresh +part of the estate, pressing him even to take all that was left of it, +woods and moorland—extending over some five hundred acres. Nowadays +Séguin was often in need of money, and in order to do business he offered +Mathieu lower terms and all sorts of advantages; but the other prudently +declined the proposals, keeping steadfastly to his original intentions, +which were that he would proceed with his work of creation step by step, +in accordance with his exact means and requirements. Moreover, a certain +difficulty arose with regard to the purchase of the remaining moors, for +enclosed by this land, eastward, near the railway line, were a few acres +belonging to Lepailleur, the miller, who had never done anything with +them. And so Mathieu preferred to select what remained of the marshy +plateau, adding, however, that he would enter into negotiations +respecting the moorland later on, when the miller should have consented +to sell his enclosure. He knew that, ever since his property had been +increasing, Lepailleur had regarded him with the greatest jealousy and +hatred, and he did not think it advisable to apply to him personally, +certain as he felt that he would fail in his endeavor. Séguin, however, +pretended that if he took up the matter he would know how to bring the +miller to reason, and even secure the enclosure for next to nothing. And +indeed, thinking that he might yet induce Mathieu to purchase all the +remaining property, he determined to see Lepailleur and negotiate with +him before even signing the deed which was to convey to Mathieu the +selected marshland on the plateau. +</p> +<p> +But the outcome proved as Mathieu had foreseen. Lepailleur asked such a +monstrous price for his few acres enclosed within the estate that nothing +could be done. When he was approached on the subject by Séguin, he made +little secret of the rage he felt at Mathieu's triumph. He had told the +young man that he would never succeed in reaping an ear of wheat from +that uncultivated expanse, given over to brambles for centuries past; and +yet now it was covered with abundant crops! And this had increased the +miller's rancor against the soil; he hated it yet more than ever for its +harshness to him, a peasant's son, and its kindliness towards that +<i>bourgeois</i>, who seemed to have fallen from heaven expressly to +revolutionize the region. Thus, in answer to Séguin, he declared with a +sneer that since sorcerers had sprung up who were able to make wheat +sprout from stones, his patch of ground was now worth its weight in gold. +Several years previously, no doubt, he had offered Séguin the enclosure +for a trifle; but times had changed, and he now crowed loudly over the +other's folly in not entertaining his previous offer. +</p> +<p> +On the other hand, there seemed little likelihood of his turning the +enclosure to account himself, for he was more disgusted than ever with +the tilling of the soil. His disposition had been further embittered by +the birth of a daughter, whom he would willingly have dispensed with, +anxious as he was with respect to his son Antonin, now a lad of twelve, +who proved so sharp and quick at school that he was regarded by the folks +of Janville as a little prodigy. Mathieu had mortally offended the father +and mother by suggesting that Antonin should be sent to an agricultural +college—a very sensible suggestion, but one which exasperated them, +determined as they were to make him a gentleman. +</p> +<p> +As Lepailleur would not part with his enclosure on any reasonable terms, +Séguin had to content himself for the time with selling Mathieu the +selected marshland on the plateau. A deed of conveyance having been +prepared, they exchanged signatures. And then, on Séguin's hands, there +still remained nearly two hundred and fifty acres of woods in the +direction of Lillebonne, together with the moorlands stretching to +Vieux-Bourg, in which Lepailleur's few acres were enclosed. +</p> +<p> +It was on the occasion of the visits which he paid Séguin in reference to +these matters that Mathieu became acquainted with the terrible break-up +of the other's home. The very rooms of the house in the Avenue d'Antin, +particularly the once sumptuous "cabinet," spoke of neglect and +abandonment. The desire to cut a figure in society, and to carry the +"fad" of the moment to extremes, ever possessed Séguin; and thus he had +for a while renounced his pretended artistic tastes for certain new forms +of sport—the motor-car craze, and so forth. But his only real passion +was horseflesh, and to this he at last returned. A racing stable which he +set up quickly helped on his ruin. Women and gaming had been responsible +for the loss of part of his large fortune, and now horses were devouring +the remainder. It was said, too, that he gambled at the bourse, in the +hope of recouping himself for his losses on the turf, and by way, too, of +affecting an air of power and influence, for he allowed it to be supposed +that he obtained information direct from members of the Government. And +as his losses increased and downfall threatened him, all that remained of +the <i>bel esprit</i> and moralist, once so prone to discuss literature and +social philosophy with Santerre, was an embittered, impotent +individual—one who had proclaimed himself a pessimist for fashion's +sake, and was now caught in his own trap; having so spoilt his existence +that he was now but an artisan of corruption and death. +</p> +<p> +All was disaster in his home. Céleste the maid had long since been +dismissed, and the children were now in the charge of a certain German +governess called Nora, who virtually ruled the house. Her position with +respect to Séguin was evident to one and all; but then, what of Séguin's +wife and Santerre? The worst was, that this horrible life, which seemed +to be accepted on either side, was known to the children, or, at all +events, to the elder daughter Lucie, yet scarcely in her teens. There had +been terrible scenes with this child, who evinced a mystical disposition, +and was ever talking of becoming a nun when she grew up. Gaston, her +brother, resembled his father; he was brutal in his ways, narrow-minded, +supremely egotistical. Very different was the little girl Andrée, whom La +Catiche had suckled. She had become a pretty child—so affectionate, +docile, and gay, that she scarcely complained even of her brother's +teasing, almost bullying ways. "What a pity," thought Mathieu, "that so +lovable a child should have to grow up amid such surroundings!" +</p> +<p> +And then his thoughts turned to his own home—to Chantebled. The debts +contracted at the outset of his enterprise had at last been paid, and he +alone was now the master there, resolved to have no other partners than +his wife and children. It was for each of his children that he conquered +a fresh expanse of land. That estate would remain their home, their +source of nourishment, the tie linking them together, even if they became +dispersed through the world in a variety of social positions. And thus +how decisive was that growth of the property, the acquisition of that +last lot of marshland which allowed the whole plateau to be cultivated! +There might now come yet another child, for there would be food for him; +wheat would grow to provide him with daily bread. And when the work was +finished, when the last springs were captured, and the land had been +drained and cleared, how prodigious was the scene at springtide!—with +the whole expanse, as far as eye could see, one mass of greenery, full of +the promise of harvest. Therein was compensation for every tear, every +worry and anxiety of the earlier days of labor. +</p> +<p> +Meantime Mathieu, amid his creative work, received Marianne's gay and +courageous assistance. And she was not merely a skilful helpmate, taking +a share in the general management, keeping the accounts, and watching +over the home. She remained both a loving and well-loved spouse, and a +mother who nursed, reared, and educated her little ones in order to give +them some of her own sense and heart. As Boutan remarked, it is not +enough for a woman to have a child; she should also possess healthy moral +gifts in order that she may bring it up in creditable fashion. Marianne, +for her part, made it her pride to obtain everything from her children by +dint of gentleness and grace. She was listened to, obeyed, and worshipped +by them, because she was so beautiful, so kind, and so greatly beloved. +Her task was scarcely easy, since she had eight children already; but in +all things she proceeded in a very orderly fashion, utilizing the elder +to watch over the younger ones, giving each a little share of loving +authority, and extricating herself from every embarrassment by setting +truth and justice above one and all. Blaise and Denis, the twins, who +were now sixteen, and Ambroise, who was nearly fourteen, did in a measure +escape her authority, being largely in their father's hands. But around +her she had the five others—from Rose, who was eleven, to Louise, who +was two years old; between them, at intervals of a couple of years, +coming Gervais, Claire, and Grégoire. And each time that one flew away, +as it were, feeling his wings strong enough for flight, there appeared +another to nestle beside her. And it was again a daughter, Madeleine, who +came at the expiration of those two years. And when Mathieu saw his wife +erect and smiling again, with the dear little girl at her breast, he +embraced her passionately and triumphed once again over every sorrow and +every pang. Yet another child, yet more wealth and power, yet an +additional force born into the world, another field ready for to-morrow's +harvest. +</p> +<p> +And 'twas ever the great work, the good work, the work of fruitfulness +spreading, thanks to the earth and thanks to woman, both victorious over +destruction, offering fresh means of subsistence each time a fresh child +was born, and loving, willing, battling, toiling even amid suffering, and +ever tending to increase of life and increase of hope. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="XIII">XIII</a></h4> + +<p> +TWO more years went by, and during those two years Mathieu and Marianne +had yet another daughter; and this time, as the family increased, +Chantebled also was increased by all the woodland extending eastward of +the plateau to the distant farms of Mareuil and Lillebonne. All the +northern part of the property was thus acquired: more than five hundred +acres of woods, intersected by clearings which roads soon connected +together. And those clearings, transformed into pasture-land, watered by +the neighboring springs, enabled Mathieu to treble his live-stock and +attempt cattle-raising on a large scale. It was the resistless conquest +of life, it was fruitfulness spreading in the sunlight, it was labor ever +incessantly pursuing its work of creation amid obstacles and suffering, +making good all losses, and at each succeeding hour setting more energy, +more health, and more joy in the veins of the world. +</p> +<p> +Since the Froments had become conquerors, busily founding a little +kingdom and building up a substantial fortune in land, the Beauchênes no +longer derided them respecting what they had once deemed their +extravagant idea in establishing themselves in the country. Astonished +and anticipating now the fullest success, they treated them as well-to-do +relatives, and occasionally visited them, delighted with the aspect of +that big, bustling farm, so full of life and prosperity. It was in the +course of these visits that Constance renewed her intercourse with her +former schoolfellow, Madame Angelin, the Froments' neighbor. A great +change had come over the Angelins; they had ended by purchasing a little +house at the end of the village, where they invariably spent the summer, +but their buoyant happiness seemed to have departed. They had long +desired to remain unburdened by children, and now they eagerly longed to +have a child, and none came, though Claire, the wife, was as yet but +six-and-thirty. Her husband, the once gay, handsome musketeer, was +already turning gray and losing his eyesight—to such a degree, +indeed, that he could scarcely see well enough to continue his profession +as a fan-painter. +</p> +<p> +When Madame Angelin went to Paris she often called on Constance, to whom, +before long, she confided all her worries. She had been in a doctor's +hands for three years, but all to no avail, and now during the last six +months she had been consulting a person in the Rue de Miromesnil, a +certain Madame Bourdieu, said she. +</p> +<p> +Constance at first made light of her friend's statements, and in part +declined to believe her. But when she found herself alone she felt +disquieted by what she had heard. Perhaps she would have treated the +matter as mere idle tittle-tattle, if she had not already regretted that +she herself had no second child. On the day when the unhappy Morange had +lost his only daughter, and had remained stricken down, utterly alone in +life, she had experienced a vague feeling of anguish. Since that supreme +loss the wretched accountant had been living on in a state of imbecile +stupefaction, simply discharging his duties in a mechanical sort of way +from force of habit. Scarcely speaking, but showing great gentleness of +manner, he lived as one who was stranded, fated to remain forever at +Beauchêne's works, where his salary had now risen to eight thousand +francs a year. It was not known what he did with this amount, which was +considerable for a man who led such a narrow regular life, free from +expenses and fancies outside his home—that flat which was much too +big for him, but which he had, nevertheless, obstinately retained, shutting +himself up therein, and leading a most misanthropic life in fierce +solitude. +</p> +<p> +It was his grievous prostration which had at one moment quite upset and +affected Constance, so that she had even sobbed with the desolate +man—she whose tears flowed so seldom! No doubt a thought that she +might have had other children than Maurice came back to her in certain +bitter hours of unconscious self-examination, when from the depths of +her being, in which feelings of motherliness awakened, there rose vague +fear, sudden dread, such as she had never known before. +</p> +<p> +Yet Maurice, her son, after a delicate youth which had necessitated great +care, was now a handsome fellow of nineteen, still somewhat pale, but +vigorous in appearance. He had completed his studies in a fairly +satisfactory manner, and was already helping his father in the management +of the works. And his adoring mother had never set higher hopes upon his +head. She already pictured him as the master of that great establishment, +whose prosperity he would yet increase, thereby rising to royal wealth +and power. +</p> +<p> +Constance's worship for that only son, to-morrow's hero; increased the +more since his father day by day declined in her estimation, till she +regarded him in fact with naught but contempt and disgust. It was a +logical downfall, which she could not stop, and the successive phases of +which she herself fatally precipitated. At the outset she had overlooked +his infidelity; then from a spirit of duty and to save him from +irreparable folly she had sought to retain him near her; and finally, +failing in her endeavor, she had begun to feel loathing and disgust. He +was now two-and-forty, he drank too much, he ate too much, he smoked too +much. He was growing corpulent and scant of breath, with hanging lips and +heavy eyelids; he no longer took care of his person as formerly, but went +about slipshod, and indulged in the coarsest pleasantries. But it was +more particularly away from his home that he sank into degradation, +indulging in the low debauchery which had ever attracted him. Every now +and again he disappeared from the house and slept elsewhere; then he +concocted such ridiculous falsehoods that he could not be believed, or +else did not take the trouble to lie at all. Constance, who felt +powerless to influence him, ended by allowing him complete freedom. +</p> +<p> +The worst was, that the dissolute life he led grievously affected the +business. He who had been such a great and energetic worker had lost +both mental and bodily vigor; he could no longer plan remunerative +strokes of business; he no longer had the strength to undertake +important contracts. He lingered in bed in the morning, and remained for +three or four days without once going round the works, letting disorder +and waste accumulate there, so that his once triumphal stock-takings now +year by year showed a falling-off. And what an end it was for that +egotist, that enjoyer, so gayly and noisily active, who had always +professed that money—capital increased tenfold by the labor of +others—was the only desirable source of power, and whom excess of +money and excess of enjoyment now cast with appropriate irony to slow +ruin, the final paralysis of the impotent. +</p> +<p> +But a supreme blow was to fall on Constance and fill her with horror of +her husband. Some anonymous letters, the low, treacherous revenge of a +dismissed servant, apprised her of Beauchêne's former intrigue with +Norine, that work-girl who had given birth to a boy, spirited away none +knew whither. Though ten years had elapsed since that occurrence, +Constance could not think of it without a feeling of revolt. Whither had +that child been sent? Was he still alive? What ignominious existence was +he leading? She was vaguely jealous of the boy. The thought that her +husband had two sons and she but one was painful to her, now that all her +motherly nature was aroused. But she devoted herself yet more ardently to +her fondly loved Maurice; she made a demi-god of him, and for his sake +even sacrificed her just rancor. She indeed came to the conclusion that +he must not suffer from his father's indignity, and so it was for him +that, with extraordinary strength of will, she ever preserved a proud +demeanor, feigning that she was ignorant of everything, never addressing +a reproach to her husband, but remaining, in the presence of others, the +same respectful wife as formerly. And even when they were alone together +she kept silence and avoided explanations and quarrels. Never even +thinking of the possibility of revenge, she seemed, in the presence of +her husband's profligacy, to attach herself more firmly to her home, +clinging to her son, and protected by him from thought of evil as much as +by her own sternness of heart and principles. And thus sorely wounded, +full of repugnance but hiding her contempt, she awaited the triumph of +that son who would purify and save the house, feeling the greatest faith +in his strength, and quite surprised and anxious whenever, all at once, +without reasonable cause, a little quiver from the unknown brought her a +chill, affecting her heart as with remorse for some long-past fault which +she no longer remembered. +</p> +<p> +That little quiver came back while she listened to all that Madame +Angelin confided to her. And at last she became quite interested in her +friend's case, and offered to accompany her some day when she might be +calling on Madame Bourdieu. In the end they arranged to meet one Thursday +afternoon for the purpose of going together to the Rue de Miromesnil. +</p> +<p> +As it happened, that same Thursday, about two o'clock, Mathieu, who had +come to Paris to see about a threshing-machine at Beauchêne's works, was +quietly walking along the Rue La Boëtie when he met Cécile Moineaud, who +was carrying a little parcel carefully tied round with string. She was +now nearly twenty-one, but had remained slim, pale, and weak, since +passing through the hands of Dr. Gaude. Mathieu had taken a great liking +to her during the few months she had spent as a servant at Chantebled; +and later, knowing what had befallen her at the hospital, he had regarded +her with deep compassion. He had busied himself to find her easy work, +and a friend of his had given her some cardboard boxes to paste together, +the only employment that did not tire her thin weak hands. So childish +had she remained that one would have taken her for a young girl suddenly +arrested in her growth. Yet her slender fingers were skilful, and she +contrived to earn some two francs a day in making the little boxes. And +as she suffered greatly at her parents' home, tortured by her brutal +surroundings there, and robbed of her earnings week by week, her dream +was to secure a home of her own, to find a little money that would enable +her to install herself in a room where she might live in peace and +quietness. It had occurred to Mathieu to give her a pleasant surprise +some day by supplying her with the small sum she needed. +</p> +<p> +"Where are you running so fast?" he gayly asked her. +</p> +<p> +The meeting seemed to take her aback, and she answered in an evasive, +embarrassed way: "I am going to the Rue de Miromesnil for a call I have +to make." +</p> +<p> +Noticing his kindly air, however, she soon told him the truth. Her +sister, that poor creature Norine, had just given birth to another child, +her third, at Madame Bourdieu's establishment. A gentleman who had been +protecting her had cast her adrift, and she had been obliged to sell her +few sticks of furniture in order to get together a couple of hundred +francs, and thus secure admittance to Madame Bourdieu's house, for the +mere idea of having to go to a hospital terrified her. Whenever she might +be able to get about again, however, she would find herself in the +streets, with the task of beginning life anew at one-and-thirty years of +age. +</p> +<p> +"She never behaved unkindly to me," resumed Cécile. "I pity her with all +my heart, and I have been to see her. I am taking her a little chocolate +now. Ah! if you only saw her little boy! he is a perfect love!" +</p> +<p> +The poor girl's eyes shone, and her thin, pale face became radiant with a +smile. The instinct of maternity remained keen within her, though she +could never be a mother. +</p> +<p> +"What a pity it is," she continued, "that Norine is so obstinately +determined on getting rid of the baby, just as she got rid of the others. +This little fellow, it's true, cries so much that she has had to give him +the breast. But it's only for the time being; she says that she can't see +him starve while he remains near her. But it quite upsets me to think +that one can get rid of one's children; I had an idea of arranging things +very differently. You know that I want to leave my parents, don't you? +Well, I thought of renting a room and of taking my sister and her little +boy with me. I would show Norine how to cut out and paste up those little +boxes, and we might live, all three, happily together." +</p> +<p> +"And won't she consent?" asked Mathieu. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! she told me that I was mad; and there's some truth in that, for I +have no money even to rent a room. Ah! if you only knew how it distresses +me." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu concealed his emotion, and resumed in his quiet way: "Well, there +are rooms to be rented. And you would find a friend to help you. Only I +am much afraid that you will never persuade your sister to keep her +child, for I fancy that I know her ideas on that subject. A miracle would +be needed to change them." +</p> +<p> +Quick-witted as she was, Cécile darted a glance at him. The friend he +spoke of was himself. Good heavens would her dream come true? She ended +by bravely saying: "Listen, monsieur; you are so kind that you really +ought to do me a last favor. It would be to come with me and see Norine +at once. You alone can talk to her and prevail on her perhaps. But let us +walk slowly, for I am stifling, I feel so happy." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu, deeply touched, walked on beside her. They turned the corner of +the Rue de Miromesnil, and his own heart began to beat as they climbed +the stairs of Madame Bourdieu's establishment. Ten years ago! Was it +possible? He recalled everything that he had seen and heard in that +house. And it all seemed to date from yesterday, for the building had not +changed; indeed, he fancied that he could recognize the very grease-spots +on the doors on the various landings. +</p> +<p> +Following Cécile to Norine's room, he found Norine up and dressed, but +seated at the side of her bed and nursing her babe. +</p> +<p> +"What! is it you, monsieur?" she exclaimed, as soon as she recognized +her visitor. "It is very kind of Cécile to have brought you. Ah! <i>mon +Dieu</i> what a lot of things have happened since I last saw you! We are +none of us any the younger." +</p> +<p> +He scrutinized her, and she did indeed seem to him much aged. She was one +of those blondes who fade rapidly after their thirtieth year. Still, if +her face had become pasty and wore a weary expression, she remained +pleasant-looking, and seemed as heedless, as careless as ever. +</p> +<p> +Cécile wished to bring matters to the point at once. "Here is your +chocolate," she began. "I met Monsieur Froment in the street, and he is +so kind and takes so much interest in me that he is willing to help me in +carrying out my idea of renting a room where you might live and work with +me. So I begged him to come up here and talk with you, and prevail on you +to keep that poor little fellow of yours. You see, I don't want to take +you unawares; I warn you in advance." +</p> +<p> +Norine started with emotion, and began to protest. "What is all this +again?" said she. "No, no, I don't want to be worried. I'm too unhappy as +it is." +</p> +<p> +But Mathieu immediately intervened, and made her understand that if she +reverted to the life she had been leading she would simply sink lower and +lower. She herself had no illusions on that point; she spoke bitterly +enough of her experiences. Her youth had flown, her good-looks were +departing, and the prospect seemed hopeless enough. But then what could +she do? When one had fallen into the mire one had to stay there. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! yes, ah! yes," said she; "I've had enough of that infernal life +which some folks think so amusing. But it's like a stone round my neck; I +can't get rid of it. I shall have to keep to it till I'm picked up in +some corner and carried off to die at a hospital." +</p> +<p> +She spoke these words with the fierce energy of one who all at once +clearly perceives the fate which she cannot escape. Then she glanced at +her infant, who was still nursing. "He had better go his way and I'll go +mine," she added. "Then we shan't inconvenience one another." +</p> +<p> +This time her voice softened, and an expression of infinite tenderness +passed over her desolate face. And Mathieu, in astonishment, divining the +new emotion that possessed her, though she did not express it, made haste +to rejoin: "To let him go his way would be the shortest way to kill him, +now that you have begun to give him the breast." +</p> +<p> +"Is it my fault?" she angrily exclaimed. "I didn't want to give it to +him; you know what my ideas were. And I flew into a passion and almost +fought Madame Bourdieu when she put him in my arms. But then how could I +hold out? He cried so dreadfully with hunger, poor little mite, and +seemed to suffer so much, that I was weak enough to let him nurse just a +little. I didn't intend to repeat it, but the next day he cried again, +and so I had to continue, worse luck for me! There was no pity shown me; +I've been made a hundred times more unhappy than I should have been, for, +of course, I shall soon have to get rid of him as I got rid of the +others." +</p> +<p> +Tears appeared in her eyes. It was the oft-recurring story of the +girl-mother who is prevailed upon to nurse her child for a few days, in +the hope that she will grow attached to the babe and be unable to part +from it. The chief object in view is to save the child, because its best +nurse is its natural nurse, the mother. And Norine, instinctively +divining the trap set for her, had struggled to escape it, and repeated, +sensibly enough, that one ought not to begin such a task when one meant +to throw it up in a few days' time. As soon as she yielded she was +certain to be caught; her egotism was bound to be vanquished by the wave +of pity, love, and hope that would sweep through her heart. The poor, +pale, puny infant had weighed but little the first time he took the +breast. But every morning afterwards he had been weighed afresh, and on +the wall at the foot of the bed had been hung the diagram indicating the +daily difference of weight. At first Norine had taken little interest in +the matter, but as the line gradually ascended, plainly indicating how +much the child was profiting, she gave it more and more attention. All at +once, as the result of an indisposition, the line had dipped down; and +since then she had always feverishly awaited the weighing, eager to see +if the line would once more ascend. Then, a continuous rise having set +in, she laughed with delight. That little line, which ever ascended, told +her that her child was saved, and that all the weight and strength he +acquired was derived from her—from her milk, her blood, her flesh. +She was completing the appointed work; and motherliness, at last awakened +within her, was blossoming in a florescence of love. +</p> +<p> +"If you want to kill him," continued Mathieu, "you need only take him +from your breast. See how eagerly the poor little fellow is nursing!" +</p> +<p> +This was indeed true. And Norine burst into big sobs: "<i>Mon Dieu</i>! you +are beginning to torture me again. Do you think that I shall take any +pleasure in getting rid of him now? You force me to say things which make +me weep at night when I think of them. I shall feel as if my very vitals +were being torn out when this child is taken from me! There, are you both +pleased that you have made me say it? But what good does it do to put me +in such a state, since nobody can remedy things, and he must needs go to +the foundlings, while I return to the gutter, to wait for the broom +that's to sweep me away?" +</p> +<p> +But Cécile, who likewise was weeping, kissed and kissed the child, and +again reverted to her dream, explaining how happy they would be, all +three of them, in a nice room, which she pictured full of endless joys, +like some Paradise. It was by no means difficult to cut out and paste up +the little boxes. As soon as Norine should know the work, she, who was +strong, might perhaps earn three francs a day at it. And five francs a +day between them, would not that mean fortune, the rearing of the child, +and all evil things forgotten, at an end? Norine, more weary than ever, +gave way at last, and ceased refusing. +</p> +<p> +"You daze me," she said. "I don't know. Do as you like—but certainly +it will be great happiness to keep this dear little fellow with me." +</p> +<p> +Cécile, enraptured, clapped her hands; while Mathieu, who was greatly +moved, gave utterance to these deeply significant words: "You have saved +him, and now he saves you." +</p> +<p> +Then Norine at last smiled. She felt happy now; a great weight had been +lifted from her heart. And carrying her child in her arms she insisted on +accompanying her sister and their friend to the first floor. +</p> +<p> +During the last half-hour Constance and Madame Angelin had been deep in +consultation with Madame Bourdieu. The former had not given her name, but +had simply played the part of an obliging friend accompanying another on +an occasion of some delicacy. Madame Bourdieu, with the keen scent +characteristic of her profession, divined a possible customer in that +inquisitive lady who put such strange questions to her. However, a rather +painful scene took place, for realizing that she could not forever +deceive Madame Angelin with false hopes, Madame Bourdieu decided to tell +the truth—her case was hopeless. Constance, however, at last made a +sign to entreat her to continue deceiving her friend, if only for charity's +sake. The other, therefore, while conducting her visitors to the landing, +spoke a few hopeful words to Madame Angelin: "After all, dear madame," +said she, "one must never despair. I did wrong to speak as I did just +now. I may yet be mistaken. Come back to see me again." +</p> +<p> +At this moment Mathieu and Cécile were still on the landing in +conversation with Norine, whose infant had fallen asleep in her arms. +Constance and Madame Angelin were so surprised at finding the farmer of +Chantebled in the company of the two young women that they pretended they +did not see him. All at once, however, Constance, with the help of +memory, recognized Norine, the more readily perhaps as she was now aware +that Mathieu had, ten years previously, acted as her husband's +intermediary. And a feeling of revolt and the wildest fancies instantly +arose within her. What was Mathieu doing in that house? whose child was +it that the young woman carried in her arms? At that moment the other +child seemed to peer forth from the past; she saw it in swaddling +clothes, like the infant there; indeed, she almost confounded one with +the other, and imagined that it was indeed her husband's illegitimate son +that was sleeping in his mother's arms before her. Then all the +satisfaction she had derived from what she had heard Madame Bourdieu say +departed, and she went off furious and ashamed, as if soiled and +threatened by all the vague abominations which she had for some time felt +around her, without knowing, however, whence came the little chill which +made her shudder as with dread. +</p> +<p> +As for Mathieu, he saw that neither Norine nor Cécile had recognized +Madame Beauchêne under her veil, and so he quietly continued explaining +to the former that he would take steps to secure for her from the +Assistance Publique—the official organization for the relief of +the poor—a cradle and a supply of baby linen, as well as immediate +pecuniary succor, since she undertook to keep and nurse her child. +Afterwards he would obtain for her an allowance of thirty francs a month +for at least one year. This would greatly help the sisters, particularly +in the earlier stages of their life together in the room which they had +settled to rent. When Mathieu added that he would take upon himself the +preliminary outlay of a little furniture and so forth, Norine insisted +upon kissing him. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! it is with a good heart," said she. "It does one good to meet a man +like you. And come, kiss my poor little fellow, too; it will bring him +good luck." +</p> +<p> +On reaching the Rue La Boëtie it occurred to Mathieu, who was bound for +the Beauchêne works, to take a cab and let Cécile alight near her +parents' home, since it was in the neighborhood of the factory. But she +explained to him that she wished, first of all, to call upon her sister +Euphrasie in the Rue Caroline. This street was in the same direction, and +so Mathieu made her get into the cab, telling her that he would set her +down at her sister's door. +</p> +<p> +She was so amazed, so happy at seeing her dream at last on the point of +realization, that as she sat in the cab by the side of Mathieu she did +not know how to thank him. Her eyes were quite moist, all smiles and +tears. +</p> +<p> +"You must not think me a bad daughter, monsieur," said she, "because I'm +so pleased to leave home. Papa still works as much as he is able, though +he does not get much reward for it at the factory. And mamma does all she +can at home, though she hasn't much strength left her nowadays. Since +Victor came back from the army, he has married and has children of his +own, and I'm even afraid that he'll have more than he can provide for, +as, while he was in the army, he seems to have lost all taste for work. +But the sharpest of the family is that lazy-bones Irma, my younger +sister, who's so pretty and so delicate-looking, perhaps because she's +always ill. As you may remember, mamma used to fear that Irma might turn +out badly like Norine. Well, not at all! Indeed, she's the only one of us +who is likely to do well, for she's going to marry a clerk in the +post-office. And so the only ones left at home are myself and Alfred. Oh! +he is a perfect bandit! That is the plain truth. He committed a theft the +other day, and one had no end of trouble to get him out of the hands of +the police commissary. But all the same, mamma has a weakness for him, +and lets him take all my earnings. Yes, indeed, I've had quite enough of +him, especially as he is always terrifying me out of my wits, threatening +to beat and even kill me, though he well knows that ever since my illness +the slightest noise throws me into a faint. And as, all considered, +neither papa nor mamma needs me, it's quite excusable, isn't it, that I +should prefer living quietly alone. It is my right, is it not, monsieur?" +</p> +<p> +She went on to speak of her sister Euphrasie, who had fallen into a most +wretched condition, said she, ever since passing through Dr. Gaude's +hands. Her home had virtually been broken up, she had become decrepit, a +mere bundle of rags, unable even to handle a broom. It made one tremble +to see her. Then, after a pause, just as the cab was reaching the Rue +Caroline, the girl continued: "Will you come up to see her? You might say +a few kind words to her. It would please me, for I'm going on a rather +unpleasant errand. I thought that she would have strength enough to make +some little boxes like me, and thus earn a few pence for herself; but she +has kept the work I gave her more than a month now, and if she really +cannot do it I must take it back." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu consented, and in the room upstairs he beheld one of the most +frightful, poignant spectacles that he had ever witnessed. In the centre +of that one room where the family slept and ate, Euphrasie sat on a +straw-bottomed chair; and although she was barely thirty years of age, +one might have taken her for a little old woman of fifty; so thin and so +withered did she look that she resembled one of those fruits, suddenly +deprived of sap, that dry up on the tree. Her teeth had fallen, and of +her hair she only retained a few white locks. But the more characteristic +mark of this mature senility was a wonderful loss of muscular strength, +an almost complete disappearance of will, energy, and power of action, so +that she now spent whole days, idle, stupefied, without courage even to +raise a finger. +</p> +<p> +When Cécile told her that her visitor was M. Froment, the former chief +designer at the Beauchêne works, she did not even seem to recognize him; +she no longer took interest in anything. And when her sister spoke of the +object of her visit, asking for the work with which she had entrusted +her, she answered with a gesture of utter weariness: "Oh! what can you +expect! It takes me too long to stick all those little bits of cardboard +together. I can't do it; it throws me into a perspiration." +</p> +<p> +Then a stout woman, who was cutting some bread and butter for the three +children, intervened with an air of quiet authority: "You ought to take +those materials away, Mademoiselle Cécile. She's incapable of doing +anything with them. They will end by getting dirty, and then your people +won't take them back." +</p> +<p> +This stout woman was a certain Madame Joseph, a widow of forty and a +charwoman by calling, whom Bénard, the husband, had at first engaged to +come two hours every morning to attend to the housework, his wife not +having strength enough to put on a child's shoes or to set a pot on the +fire. At first Euphrasie had offered furious resistance to this intrusion +of a stranger, but, her physical decline progressing, she had been +obliged to yield. And then things had gone from bad to worse, till Madame +Joseph became supreme in the household. Between times there had been +terrible scenes over it all; but the wretched Euphrasie, stammering and +shivering, had at last resigned herself to the position, like some little +old woman sunk into second childhood and already cut off from the world. +That Bénard and Madame Joseph were not bad-hearted in reality was shown +by the fact that although Euphrasie was now but an useless encumbrance, +they kept her with them, instead of flinging her into the streets as +others would have done. +</p> +<p> +"Why, there you are again in the middle of the room!" suddenly exclaimed +the fat woman, who each time that she went hither and thither found it +necessary to avoid the other's chair. "How funny it is that you can never +put yourself in a corner! Auguste will be coming in for his four o'clock +snack in a moment, and he won't be at all pleased if he doesn't find his +cheese and his glass of wine on the table." +</p> +<p> +Without replying, Euphrasie nervously staggered to her feet, and with the +greatest trouble dragged her chair towards the table. Then she sat down +again limp and very weary. +</p> +<p> +Just as Madame Joseph was bringing the cheese, Bénard, whose workshop +was near by, made his appearance. He was still a full-bodied, jovial +fellow, and began to jest with his sister-in-law while showing great +politeness towards Mathieu, whom he thanked for taking interest in his +unhappy wife's condition. "<i>Mon Dieu</i>, monsieur," said he, "it +isn't her fault; it is all due to those rascally doctors at the +hospital. For a year or so one might have thought her cured, but you see +what has now become of her. Ah! it ought not to be allowed! You are no +doubt aware that they treated Cécile just the same. And there was +another, too, a baroness, whom you must know. She called here the other +day to see Euphrasie, and, upon my word, I didn't recognize her. She +used to be such a fine woman, and now she looks a hundred years old. +Yes, yes, I say that the doctors ought to be sent to prison." +</p> +<p> +He was about to sit down to table when he stumbled against Euphrasie's +chair. She sat watching him with an anxious, semi-stupefied expression. +"There you are, in my way as usual!" said he; "one is always tumbling up +against you. Come, make a little room, do." +</p> +<p> +He did not seem to be a very terrible customer, but at the sound of his +voice she began to tremble, full of childish fear, as if she were +threatened with a thrashing. And this time she found strength enough to +drag her chair as far as a dark closet, the door of which was open. She +there sought refuge, ensconcing herself in the gloom, amid which one +could vaguely espy her shrunken, wrinkled face, which suggested that of +some very old great-grandmother, who was taking years and years to die. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu's heart contracted as he observed that senile terror, that +shivering obedience on the part of a woman whose harsh, dry, aggressively +quarrelsome disposition he so well remembered. Industrious, self-willed, +full of life as she had once been, she was now but a limp human rag. And +yet her case was recorded in medical annals as one of the renowned +Gaude's great miracles of cure. Ah! how truly had Boutan spoken in saying +that people ought to wait to see the real results of those victorious +operations which were sapping the vitality of France. +</p> +<p> +Cécile, however, with eager affection, kissed the three children, who +somehow continued to grow up in that wrecked household. Tears came to her +eyes, and directly Madame Joseph had given her back the work-materials +entrusted to Euphrasie she hurried Mathieu away. And, as they reached the +street, she said: "Thank you, Monsieur Froment; I can go home on foot +now—. How frightful, eh? Ah! as I told you, we shall be in Paradise, +Norine and I, in the quiet room which you have so kindly promised to rent +for us." +</p> +<p> +On reaching Beauchêne's establishment Mathieu immediately repaired to the +workshops, but he could obtain no precise information respecting his +threshing-machine, though he had ordered it several months previously. He +was told that the master's son, Monsieur Maurice, had gone out on +business, and that nobody could give him an answer, particularly as the +master himself had not put in an appearance at the works that week. He +learnt, however, that Beauchêne had returned from a journey that very +day, and must be indoors with his wife. Accordingly, he resolved to call +at the house, less on account of the threshing-machine than to decide a +matter of great interest to him, that of the entry of one of his twin +sons, Blaise, into the establishment. +</p> +<p> +This big fellow had lately left college, and although he had only +completed his nineteenth year, he was on the point of marrying a +portionless young girl, Charlotte Desvignes, for whom he had conceived a +romantic attachment ever since childhood. His parents, seeing in this +match a renewal of their own former loving improvidence, had felt moved, +and unwilling to drive the lad to despair. But, if he was to marry, some +employment must first be found for him. Fortunately this could be +managed. While Denis, the other of the twins, entered a technical school, +Beauchêne, by way of showing his esteem for the increasing fortune of his +good cousins, as he now called the Froments, cordially offered to give +Blaise a situation at his establishment. +</p> +<p> +On being ushered into Constance's little yellow <i>salon</i>, Mathieu +found her taking a cup of tea with Madame Angelin, who had come back +with her from the Rue de Miromesnil. Beauchêne's unexpected arrival on +the scene had disagreeably interrupted their private converse. He had +returned from one of the debauches in which he so frequently indulged +under the pretext of making a short business journey, and, still +slightly intoxicated, with feverish, sunken eyes and clammy tongue, he +was wearying the two women with his impudent, noisy falsehoods. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! my dear fellow!" he exclaimed on seeing Mathieu, "I was just telling +the ladies of my return from Amiens——. What wonderful duck +<i>pâtés</i> they have there!" +</p> +<p> +Then, on Mathieu speaking to him of Blaise, he launched out into +protestations of friendship. It was understood, the young fellow need +only present himself at the works, and in the first instance he should be +put with Morange, in order that he might learn something of the business +mechanism of the establishment. Thus talking, Beauchêne puffed and +coughed and spat, exhaling meantime the odor of tobacco, alcohol, and +musk, which he always brought back from his "sprees," while his wife +smiled affectionately before the others as was her wont, but directed at +him glances full of despair and disgust whenever Madame Angelin turned +her head. +</p> +<p> +As Beauchêne continued talking too much, owning for instance that he did +not know how far the thresher might be from completion, Mathieu noticed +Constance listening anxiously. The idea of Blaise entering the +establishment had already rendered her grave, and now her husband's +apparent ignorance of important business matters distressed her. Besides, +the thought of Norine was reviving in her mind; she remembered the girl's +child, and almost feared some fresh understanding between Beauchêne and +Mathieu. All at once, however, she gave a cry of great relief: "Ah! here +is Maurice." +</p> +<p> +Her son was entering the room—her son, the one and only god on whom +she now set her affection and pride, the crown-prince who to-morrow would +become king, who would save the kingdom from perdition, and who would +exalt her on his right hand in a blaze of glory. She deemed him handsome, +tall, strong, and as invincible in his nineteenth year as all the knights +of the old legends. When he explained that he had just profitably +compromised a worrying transaction in which his father had rashly +embarked, she pictured him repairing disasters and achieving victories. +And she triumphed more than ever on hearing him promise that the +threshing-machine should be ready before the end of that same week. +</p> +<p> +"You must take a cup of tea, my dear," she exclaimed. "It would do you +good; you worry your mind too much." +</p> +<p> +Maurice accepted the offer, and gayly replied: "Oh! do you know, an +omnibus almost crushed me just now in the Rue de Rivoli!" +</p> +<p> +At this his mother turned livid, and the cup which she held escaped from +her hand. Ah! God, was her happiness at the mercy of an accident? Then +once again the fearful threat sped by, that icy gust which came she knew +not whence, but which ever chilled her to her bones. +</p> +<p> +"Why, you stupid," said Beauchêne, laughing, "it was he who crushed the +omnibus, since here he is, telling you the tale. Ah! my poor Maurice, +your mother is really ridiculous. I know how strong you are, and I'm +quite at ease about you." +</p> +<p> +That day Madame Angelin returned to Janville with Mathieu. They found +themselves alone in the railway carriage, and all at once, without any +apparent cause, tears started from the young woman's eyes. At this she +apologized, and murmured as if in a dream: "To have a child, to rear +him, and then lose him—ah! certainly one's grief must then be +poignant. Yet one has had him with one; he has grown up, and one has +known for years all the joy of having him at one's side. But when one +never has a child—never, never—ah! come rather suffering and +mourning than such a void as that!" +</p> +<p> +And meantime, at Chantebled, Mathieu and Marianne founded, created, +increased, and multiplied, again proving victorious in the eternal battle +which life wages against death, thanks to that continual increase both of +offspring and of fertile land, which was like their very existence, their +joy and their strength. Desire passed like a gust of flame, desire divine +and fruitful, since they possessed the power of love, of kindliness, and +health. And their energy did the rest—that will of action, that quiet +bravery in the presence of the labor that is necessary, the labor that +has made and that regulates the world. Yet even during those two years it +was not without constant struggling that they achieved victory. True, +victory was becoming more and more certain as the estate expanded. The +petty worries of earlier days had disappeared, and the chief question was +now one of ruling sensibly and equitably. All the land had been purchased +northward on the plateau, from the farm of Mareuil to the farm of +Lillebonne; there was not a copse that did not belong to the Froments, +and thus beside the surging sea of corn there rose a royal park of +centenarian trees. Apart from the question of felling portions of the +wood for timber, Mathieu was not disposed to retain the remainder for +mere beauty's sake; and accordingly avenues were devised connecting the +broad clearings, and cattle were then turned into this part of the +property. The ark of life, increased by hundreds of animals, expanded, +burst through the great trees. There was a fresh growth of fruitfulness: +more and more cattle-sheds had to be built, sheepcotes had to be created, +and manure came in loads and loads to endow the land with wondrous +fertility. And now yet other children might come, for floods of milk +poured forth, and there were herds and flocks to clothe and nourish them. +Beside the ripening crops the woods waved their greenery, quivering with +the eternal seeds that germinated in their shade, under the dazzling sun. +And only one more stretch of land, the sandy slopes on the east, remained +to be conquered in order that the kingdom might be complete. Assuredly +this compensated one for all former tears, for all the bitter anxiety of +the first years of toil. +</p> +<p> +Then, while Mathieu completed his conquest, there came to Marianne during +those two years the joy of marrying one of her children even while she +was again <i>enceinte</i>, for, like our good mother the earth, she also +remained fruitful. 'Twas a delightful <i>fête</i>, full of infinite hope, +that wedding of Blaise and Charlotte; he a strong young fellow of nineteen, +she an adorable girl of eighteen summers, each loving the other with a +love of nosegay freshness that had budded, even in childhood's hour, +along the flowery paths of Chantebled. The eight other children were all +there: first the big brothers, Denis, Ambroise, and Gervais, who were now +finishing their studies; next Rose, the eldest girl, now fourteen, who +promised to become a woman of healthy beauty and happy gayety of +disposition; then Claire, who was still a child, and Grégoire, who was +only just going to college; without counting the very little ones, Louise +and Madeleine. +</p> +<p> +Folks came out of curiosity from the surrounding villages to see the gay +troop conduct their big brother to the municipal offices. It was a +marvellous <i>cortège</i>, flowery like springtide, full of felicity, which +moved every heart. Often, moreover, on ordinary holidays, when for the +sake of an outing the family repaired in a band to some village market, +there was such a gallop in traps, on horseback, and on bicycles, while +the girls' hair streamed in the wind and loud laughter rang out from one +and all, that people would stop to watch the charming cavalcade. "Here +are the troops passing!" folks would jestingly exclaim, implying that +nothing could resist those Froments, that the whole countryside was +theirs by right of conquest, since every two years their number +increased. And this time, at the expiration of those last two years it +was again to a daughter, Marguerite, that Marianne gave birth. For a +while she remained in a feverish condition, and there were fears, too, +that she might be unable to nurse her infant as she had done all the +others. Thus, when Mathieu saw her erect once more and smiling, with her +dear little Marguerite at her breast, he embraced her passionately, and +triumphed once again over every sorrow and every pang. Yet another child, +yet more wealth and power, yet an additional force born into the world, +another field ready for to-morrow's harvest! +</p> +<p> +And 'twas ever the great work, the good work, the work of fruitfulness +spreading, thanks to the earth and thanks to woman, both victorious over +destruction, offering fresh means of subsistence each time a fresh child +was born, and loving, willing, battling, toiling, even amid suffering, +and ever tending to increase of life and increase of hope. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="XIV">XIV</a></h4> + +<p> +TWO more years went by, and during those two years yet another child, +this time a boy, was born to Mathieu and Marianne. And on this occasion, +at the same time as the family increased, the estate of Chantebled was +increased also by all the heatherland extending to the east as far as the +village of Vieux-Bourg. And this time the last lot was purchased, the +conquest of the estate was complete. The 1250 acres of uncultivated soil +which Séguin's father, the old army contractor, had formerly purchased in +view of erecting a palatial residence there were now, thanks to +unremitting effort, becoming fruitful from end to end. The enclosure +belonging to the Lepailleurs, who stubbornly refused to sell it, alone +set a strip of dry, stony, desolate land amid the broad green plain. And +it was all life's resistless conquest; it was fruitfulness spreading in +the sunlight; it was labor ever incessantly pursuing its work of creation +amid obstacles and suffering, making good all losses, and at each +succeeding hour setting more energy, more health, and more joy in the +veins of the world. +</p> +<p> +Blaise, now the father of a little girl some ten months old, had been +residing at the Beauchêne works since the previous winter. He occupied +the little pavilion where his mother had long previously given birth to +his brother Gervais. His wife Charlotte had conquered the Beauchênes by +her fair grace, her charming, bouquet-like freshness, to such a point, +indeed, that even Constance had desired to have her near her. The truth +was that Madame Desvignes had made adorable creatures of her two +daughters, Charlotte and Marthe. At the death of her husband, a +stockbroker's confidential clerk, who had died, leaving her at thirty +years of age in very indifferent circumstances, she had gathered her +scanty means together and withdrawn to Janville, her native place, where +she had entirely devoted herself to her daughters' education. Knowing +that they would be almost portionless, she had brought them up extremely +well, in the hope that this might help to find them husbands, and it so +chanced that she proved successful. +</p> +<p> +Affectionate intercourse sprang up between her and the Froments; the +children played together; and it was, indeed, from those first games that +came the love-romance which was to end in the marriage of Blaise and +Charlotte. By the time the latter reached her eighteenth birthday and +married, Marthe her sister, then fourteen years old, had become the +inseparable companion of Rose Froment, who was of the same age and as +pretty as herself, though dark instead of fair. Charlotte, who had a more +delicate, and perhaps a weaker, nature than her gay, sensible sister, had +become passionately fond of drawing and painting, which she had learnt at +first simply by way of accomplishment. She had ended, however, by +painting miniatures very prettily, and, as her mother remarked, her +proficiency might prove a resource to her in the event of misfortune. +Certainly there was some of the <i>bourgeois</i> respect and esteem for a +good education in the fairly cordial greeting which Constance extended to +Charlotte, who had painted a miniature portrait of her, a good though a +flattering likeness. +</p> +<p> +On the other hand, Blaise, who was endowed with the creative fire of the +Froments, ever striving, ever hard at work, became a valuable assistant +to Maurice as soon as a brief stay in Morange's office had made him +familiar with the business of the firm. Indeed it was Maurice who, +finding that his father seconded him less and less, had insisted on +Blaise and Charlotte installing themselves in the little pavilion, in +order that the former's services might at all times be available. And +Constance, ever on her knees before her son, could in this matter only +obey respectfully. She evinced boundless faith in the vastness of +Maurice's intellect. His studies had proved fairly satisfactory; if he +was somewhat slow and heavy, and had frequently been delayed by youthful +illnesses, he had, nevertheless, diligently plodded on. As he was far +from talkative, his mother gave out that he was a reflective, +concentrated genius, who would astonish the world by actions, not by +speech. Before he was even fifteen she said of him, in her adoring way: +"Oh! he has a great mind." And, naturally enough, she only acknowledged +Blaise to be a necessary lieutenant, a humble assistant, one whose hand +would execute the sapient young master's orders. The latter, to her +thinking, was now so strong and so handsome, and he was so quickly +reviving the business compromised by the father's slow collapse, that +surely he must be on the high-road to prodigious wealth, to that final +great triumph, indeed, of which she had been dreaming so proudly, so +egotistically, for so many years. +</p> +<p> +But all at once the thunderbolt fell. It was not without some hesitation +that Blaise had agreed to make the little pavilion his home, for he knew +that there was an idea of reducing him to the status of a mere piece of +machinery. But at the birth of his little girl he bravely decided to +accept the proposal, and to engage in the battle of life even as his +father had engaged in it, mindful of the fact that he also might in time +have a large family. But it so happened that one morning, when he went up +to the house to ask Maurice for some instructions, he heard from +Constance herself that the young man had spent a very bad night, and that +she had therefore prevailed on him to remain in bed. She did not evince +any great anxiety on the subject; the indisposition could only be due to +a little fatigue. Indeed, for a week past the two cousins had been tiring +themselves out over the delivery of a very important order, which had set +the entire works in motion. Besides, on the previous day Maurice, +bareheaded and in perspiration, had imprudently lingered in a draught in +one of the sheds while a machine was being tested. +</p> +<p> +That evening he was seized with intense fever, and Boutan was hastily +summoned. On the morrow, alarmed, though he scarcely dared to say it, by +the lightning-like progress of the illness, the doctor insisted on a +consultation, and two of his colleagues being summoned, they soon agreed +together. The malady was an extremely infectious form of galloping +consumption, the more violent since it had found in the patient a field +where there was little to resist its onslaught. Beauchêne was away from +home, travelling as usual. Constance, for her part, in spite of the grave +mien of the doctors, who could not bring themselves to tell her the +brutal truth, remained, in spite of growing anxiety, full of a stubborn +hope that her son, the hero, the demi-god necessary for her own life, +could not be seriously ill and likely to die. But only three days +elapsed, and during the very night that Beauchêne returned home, summoned +by a telegram, the young fellow expired in her arms. +</p> +<p> +In reality his death was simply the final decomposition of impoverished, +tainted, <i>bourgeois</i> blood, the sudden disappearance of a poor, +mediocre being who, despite a façade of seeming health, had been ailing +since childhood. But what an overwhelming blow it was both for the +mother and for the father, all whose dreams and calculations it swept +away! The only son, the one and only heir, the prince of industry, whom +they had desired with such obstinate, scheming egotism, had passed away +like a shadow; their arms clasped but a void, and the frightful reality +arose before them; a moment had sufficed, and they were childless. +</p> +<p> +Blaise was with the parents at the bedside at the moment when Maurice +expired. It was then about two in the morning, and as soon as possible he +telegraphed the news of the death to Chantebled. Nine o'clock was +striking when Marianne, very pale, quite upset, came into the yard to +call Mathieu. +</p> +<p> +"Maurice is dead!... <i>Mon Dieu</i>! an only son; poor people!" +</p> +<p> +They stood there thunderstruck, chilled and trembling. They had simply +heard that the young man was poorly; they had not imagined him to be +seriously ill. +</p> +<p> +"Let me go to dress," said Mathieu; "I shall take the quarter-past ten +o'clock train. I must go to kiss them." +</p> +<p> +Although Marianne was expecting her eleventh child before long, she +decided to accompany her husband. It would have pained her to be unable +to give this proof of affection to her cousins, who, all things +considered, had treated Blaise and his young wife very kindly. Moreover, +she was really grieved by the terrible catastrophe. So she and her +husband, after distributing the day's work among the servants, set out +for Janville station, which they reached just in time to catch the +quarter-past ten o'clock train. It was already rolling on again when they +recognized the Lepailleurs and their son Antonin in the very compartment +where they were seated. +</p> +<p> +Seeing the Froments thus together in full dress, the miller imagined that +they were going to a wedding, and when he learnt that they had a visit of +condolence to make, he exclaimed: "Oh! so it's just the contrary. But no +matter, it's an outing, a little diversion nevertheless." +</p> +<p> +Since Mathieu's victory, since the whole of the estate of Chantebled had +been conquered and fertilized, Lepailleur had shown some respect for his +<i>bourgeois</i> rival. Nevertheless, although he could not deny the +results hitherto obtained, he did not altogether surrender, but +continued sneering, as if he expected that some rending of heaven or +earth would take place to prove him in the right. He would not confess +that he had made a mistake; he repeated that he knew the truth, and that +folks would some day see plainly enough that a peasant's calling was the +very worst calling there could be, since the dirty land had gone +bankrupt and would yield nothing more. Besides, he held his +revenge—that enclosure which he left barren, uncultivated, by way +of protest against the adjoining estate which it intersected. The +thought of this made him ironical. +</p> +<p> +"Well," he resumed in his ridiculously vain, scoffing way, "we are going +to Paris too. Yes, we are going to install this young gentleman there." +</p> +<p> +He pointed as he spoke to his son Antonin, now a tall, carroty fellow of +eighteen, with an elongated head. A few light-colored bristles were +already sprouting on his chin and cheeks, and he wore town attire, with a +silk hat and gloves, and a bright blue necktie. After astonishing +Janville by his success at school, he had displayed so much repugnance to +manual work that his father had decided to make "a Parisian" of him. +</p> +<p> +"So it is decided; you have quite made up your mind?" asked Mathieu in a +friendly way. +</p> +<p> +"Why, yes; why should I force him to toil and moil without the least hope +of ever enriching himself? Neither my father nor I ever managed to put a +copper by with that wretched old mill of ours. Why, the mill-stones wear +away with rot more than with grinding corn. And the wretched fields, too, +yield far more pebbles than crowns. And so, as he's now a scholar, he may +as well try his fortune in Paris. There's nothing like city life to +sharpen a man's wits." +</p> +<p> +Madame Lepailleur, who never took her eyes from her son, but remained in +admiration before him as formerly before her husband, now exclaimed with +an air of rapture: "Yes, yes, he has a place as a clerk with Maître +Rousselet, the attorney. We have rented a little room for him; I have +seen about the furniture and the linen, and to-day's the great day; he +will sleep there to-night, after we have dined, all three, at a good +restaurant. Ah! yes, I'm very pleased; he's making a start now." +</p> +<p> +"And he will perhaps end by being a minister of state," said Mathieu, +with a smile; "who knows? Everything is possible nowadays." +</p> +<p> +It all typified the exodus from the country districts towards the towns, +the feverish impatience to make a fortune, which was becoming general. +Even the parents nowadays celebrated their child's departure, and +accompanied the adventurer on his way, anxious and proud to climb the +social ladder with him. And that which brought a smile to the lips of the +farmer of Chantebled, the <i>bourgeois</i> who had become a peasant, was +the thought of the double change: the miller's son going to Paris, whereas +he had gone to the earth, the mother of all strength and regeneration. +</p> +<p> +Antonin, however, had also begun to laugh with the air of an artful idler +who was more particularly attracted by the free dissipation of Paris +life. "Oh! minister?" said he, "I haven't much taste for that. I would +much sooner win a million at once so as to rest afterwards." +</p> +<p> +Delighted with this display of wit, the Lepailleurs burst into noisy +merriment. Oh! their boy would do great things, that was quite certain! +</p> +<p> +Marianne, her heart oppressed by thought of the mourning which awaited +her, had hitherto kept silent. She now asked, however, why little Thérèse +did not form one of the party. Lepailleur dryly replied that he did not +choose to embarrass himself with a child but six years old, who did not +know how to behave. Her arrival had upset everything in the house; things +would have been much better if she had never been born. Then, as Marianne +began to protest, saying that she had seldom seen a more intelligent and +prettier little girl, Madame Lepailleur answered more gently: "Oh! she's +sharp; that's true enough; but one can't send girls to Paris. She'll have +to be put somewhere, and it will mean a lot of trouble, a lot of money. +However, we mustn't talk about all that this morning, since we want to +enjoy ourselves." +</p> +<p> +At last the train reached Paris, and the Lepailleurs, leaving the +Northern terminus, were caught and carried off by the impetuously +streaming crowd. +</p> +<p> +When Mathieu and Marianne alighted from their cab on the Quai d'Orsay, in +front of the Beauchênes' residence, they recognized the Séguins' brougham +drawn up beside the foot pavement. And within it they perceived the two +girls, Lucie and Andrée, waiting mute and motionless in their +light-colored dresses. Then, as they approached the door, they saw +Valentine come out, in a very great hurry as usual. On recognizing them, +however, she assumed an expression of deep pity, and spoke the words +required by the situation: +</p> +<p> +"What a frightful misfortune, is it not? an only son!" +</p> +<p> +Then she burst out into a flood of words: "You have hastened here, I see, +as I did; it is only natural. I heard of the catastrophe only by chance +less than an hour ago. And you see my luck! My daughters were dressed, +and I myself was dressing to take them to a wedding—a cousin of our +friend Santerre is marrying a diplomatist. And, in addition, I am engaged +for the whole afternoon. Well, although the wedding is fixed for a +quarter-past eleven, I did not hesitate, but drove here before going to +the church. And naturally I went upstairs alone. My daughters have been +waiting in the carriage. We shall no doubt be a little late for the +wedding. But no matter! You will see the poor parents in their empty +house, near the body, which, I must say, they have laid out very nicely +on the bed. Oh! it is heartrending." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu was looking at her, surprised to see that she did not age. The +fiery flame of her wild life seemed to scorch and preserve her. He knew +that her home was now completely wrecked. Séguin openly lived with Nora, +the governess, for whom he had furnished a little house. It was there +even that he had given Mathieu an appointment to sign the final transfer +of the Chantebled property. And since Gaston had entered the military +college of St. Cyr, Valentine had only her two daughters with her in the +spacious, luxurious mansion of the Avenue d'Antin, which ruin was slowly +destroying. +</p> +<p> +"I think," resumed Madame Séguin, "that I shall tell Gaston to obtain +permission to attend the funeral. For I am not sure whether his father is +in Paris. It's just the same with our friend Santerre; he's starting on a +tour to-morrow. Ah! not only do the dead leave us, but it is astonishing +what a number of the living go off and disappear! Life is very sad, is it +not, dear madame?" +</p> +<p> +As she spoke a little quiver passed over her face; the dread of the +coming rupture, which she had felt approaching for several months past, +amid all the skilful preparations of Santerre, who had been long maturing +some secret plan, which she did not as yet divine. However, she made a +devout ecstatic gesture, and added: "Well, we are in the hands of God." +</p> +<p> +Marianne, who was still smiling at the ever-motionless girls in the +closed brougham, changed the subject. "How tall they have grown, how +pretty they have become! Your Andrée looks adorable. How old is your +Lucie now? She will soon be of an age to marry." +</p> +<p> +"Oh! don't let her hear you," retorted Valentine; "you would make her +burst into tears! She is seventeen, but for sense she isn't twelve. Would +you believe it, she began sobbing this morning and refusing to go to the +wedding, under the pretence that it would make her ill? She is always +talking of convents; we shall have to come to a decision about her. +Andrée, though she is only thirteen, is already much more womanly. But +she is a little stupid, just like a sheep. Her gentleness quite upsets me +at times; it jars on my nerves." +</p> +<p> +Then Valentine, on the point of getting into her carriage, turned to +shake hands with Marianne, and thought of inquiring after her health. +"Really," said she, "I lose my head at times. I was quite forgetting. And +the baby you're expecting will be your eleventh child, will it now? How +terrible! Still it succeeds with you. And, ah! those poor people whom you +are going to see, their house will be quite empty now." +</p> +<p> +When the brougham had rolled away it occurred to Mathieu and Marianne +that before seeing the Beauchênes it might be advisable for them to call +at the little pavilion, where their son or their daughter-in-law might be +able to give them some useful information. But neither Blaise nor +Charlotte was there. They found only a servant who was watching over the +little girl, Berthe. This servant declared that she had not seen Monsieur +Blaise since the previous day, for he had remained at the Beauchênes' +near the body. And as for Madame, she also had gone there early that +morning, and had left instructions that Berthe was to be brought to her +at noon, in order that she might not have to come back to give her the +breast. Then, as Marianne in surprise began to put some questions, the +girl explained matters: "Madame took a box of drawing materials with her. +I fancy that she is painting a portrait of the poor young man who is +dead." +</p> +<p> +As Mathieu and Marianne crossed the courtyard of the works, they felt +oppressed by the grave-like silence which reigned in that great city of +labor, usually so full of noise and bustle. Death had suddenly passed by, +and all the ardent life had at once ceased, the machinery had become cold +and mute, the workshops silent and deserted. There was not a sound, not a +soul, not a puff of that vapor which was like the very breath of the +place. Its master dead, it had died also. And the distress of the +Froments increased when they passed from the works into the house, amid +absolute solitude; the connecting gallery was wrapt in slumber, the +staircase quivered amid the heavy silence, all the doors were open, as in +some uninhabited house, long since deserted. They found no servant in the +antechamber, and even the dim drawing-room, where the blinds of +embroidered muslin were lowered, while the armchairs were arranged in a +circle, as on reception days, when numerous visitors were expected, at +first seemed to them to be empty. But at last they detected a shadowy +form moving slowly to and fro in the middle of the room. It was Morange, +bareheaded and frock-coated; he had hastened thither at the first news +with the same air as if he had been repairing to his office. He seemed to +be at home; it was he who received the visitors in a scared way, overcome +as he was by this sudden demise, which recalled to him his daughter's +abominable death. His heart-wound had reopened; he was livid, all in +disorder, with his long gray beard streaming down, while he stepped +hither and thither without a pause, making all the surrounding grief his +own. +</p> +<p> +As soon as he recognized the Froments he also spoke the words which came +from every tongue: "What a frightful misfortune, an only son!" +</p> +<p> +Then he pressed their hands, and whispered and explained that Madame +Beauchêne, feeling quite exhausted, had withdrawn for a few moments, and +that Beauchêne and Blaise were making necessary arrangements downstairs. +And then, resuming his maniacal perambulations, he pointed towards an +adjoining room, the folding doors of which were wide open. +</p> +<p> +"He is there, on the bed where he died. There are flowers; it looks very +nice. You may go in." +</p> +<p> +This room was Maurice's bedchamber. The large curtains had been closely +drawn, and tapers were burning near the bed, casting a soft light on the +deceased's face, which appeared very calm, very white, the eyes closed as +if in sleep. Between the clasped hands rested a crucifix, and with the +roses scattered over the sheet the bed was like a couch of springtide. +The odor of the flowers, mingling with that of the burning wax, seemed +rather oppressive amid the deep and tragic stillness. Not a breath +stirred the tall, erect flames of the tapers, burning in the +semi-obscurity, amid which the bed alone showed forth. +</p> +<p> +When Mathieu and Marianne had gone in, they perceived their +daughter-in-law, Charlotte, behind a screen near the door. Lighted by a +little lamp, she sat there with a sketching-block on her knees, making a +drawing of Maurice's head as it rested among the roses. Hard and +anguish-bringing as was such work for one with so young a heart, she had +nevertheless yielded to the mother's ardent entreaties. And for three +hours past, pale, looking wondrously beautiful, her face showing all the +flower of youth, her blue eyes opening widely under her fine golden hair, +she had been there diligently working, striving to do her best. When +Mathieu and Marianne approached her she would not speak, but simply +nodded. Still a little color came to her cheeks, and her eyes smiled. And +when the others, after lingering there for a moment in sorrowful +contemplation, had quietly returned to the drawing-room, she resumed her +work alone, in the presence of the dead, among the roses and the tapers. +</p> +<p> +Morange was still walking the drawing-room like a lost, wandering +phantom. Mathieu remained standing there, while Marianne sat down near +the folding doors. Not another word was exchanged; the spell of waiting +continued amid the oppressive silence of the dim, closed room. When some +ten minutes had elapsed, two other visitors arrived, a lady and a +gentleman, whom the Froments could not at first recognize. Morange bowed +and received them in his dazed way. Then, as the lady did not release her +hold of the gentleman's hand, but led him along, as if he were blind, +between the articles of furniture, so that he might not knock against +them, Marianne and Mathieu realized that the new comers were the +Angelins. +</p> +<p> +Since the previous winter they had sold their little house at Janville to +fix themselves in Paris, for a last misfortune had befallen them—the +failure of a great banking house had carried away almost the whole of +their modest fortune. The wife had fortunately secured a post as one of +the delegates of the Poor Relief Board, an inspectorship with various +duties, such as watching over the mothers and children assisted by the +board, and reporting thereon. And she was wont to say, with a sad smile, +that this work of looking after the little ones was something of a +consolation for her, since it was now certain that she would never have a +child of her own. As for her husband, whose eyesight was failing more and +more, he had been obliged to relinquish painting altogether, and he +dragged out his days in morose desolation, his life wrecked, annihilated. +</p> +<p> +With short steps, as if she were leading a child, Madame Angelin brought +him to an armchair near Marianne and seated him in it. He had retained +the lofty mien of a musketeer, but his features had been ravaged by +anxiety, and his hair was white, though he was only forty-four years of +age. And what memories arose at the sight of that sorrowful lady leading +that infirm, aged man, for those who had known the young couple, all +tenderness and good looks, rambling along the secluded paths of Janville, +amid the careless delights of their love. +</p> +<p> +As soon as Madame Angelin had clasped Marianne's hands with her own +trembling fingers, she also uttered in low, stammering accents, those +despairing words: "Ah! what a frightful misfortune, an only son!" +</p> +<p> +Her eyes filled with tears, and she would not sit down before going for a +moment to see the body in the adjoining room. When she came back, sobbing +in her handkerchief, she sank into an armchair between Marianne and her +husband. He remained there motionless, staring fixedly with his dim eyes. +And silence fell again throughout the lifeless house, whither the rumble +of the works, now deserted, fireless and frozen, ascended no longer. +</p> +<p> +But Beauchêne, followed by Blaise, at last made his appearance. The heavy +blow he had received seemed to have made him ten years older. It was as +if the heavens had suddenly fallen upon him. Never amid his conquering +egotism, his pride of strength and his pleasures, had he imagined such a +downfall to be possible. Never had he been willing to admit that Maurice +might be ill—such an idea was like casting a doubt upon his own +strength; he thought himself beyond the reach of thunderbolts; misfortune +would never dare to fall on him. And at the first overwhelming moment he +had found himself weak as a woman, weary and limp, his strength +undermined by his dissolute life, the slow disorganization of his +faculties. He had sobbed like a child before his dead son, all his vanity +crushed, all his calculations destroyed. The thunderbolt had sped by, and +nothing remained. In a minute his life had been swept away; the world was +now all black and void. And he remained livid, in consternation at it +all, his bloated face swollen with grief, his heavy eyelids red with +tears. +</p> +<p> +When he perceived the Froments, weakness again came upon him, and he +staggered towards them with open arms, once more stifling with sobs. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! my dear friends, what a terrible blow! And I wasn't here! When I got +here he had lost consciousness; he did not recognize me—. Is it +possible? A lad who was in such good health! I cannot believe it. It +seems to me that I must be dreaming, and that he will get up presently +and come down with me into the workshops!" +</p> +<p> +They kissed him, they pitied him, struck down like this upon his return +from some carouse or other, still intoxicated, perhaps, and tumbling into +the midst of such an awful disaster, his prostration increased by the +stupor following upon debauchery. His beard, moist with his tears, still +stank of tobacco and musk. +</p> +<p> +Although he scarcely knew the Angelins, he pressed them also in his arms. +"Ah! my poor friends, what a terrible blow! What a terrible blow!" +</p> +<p> +Then Blaise in his turn came to kiss his parents. In spite of his grief, +and the horrible night he had spent, his face retained its youthful +freshness. Yet tears coursed down his cheeks, for, working with Maurice +day by day, he had conceived real friendship for him. +</p> +<p> +The silence fell again. Morange, as if unconscious of what went on around +him, as if he were quite alone there, continued walking softly hither and +thither like a somnambulist. Beauchêne, with haggard mien, went off, and +then came back carrying some little address-books. He turned about for +another moment, and finally sat down at a writing-table which had been +brought out of Maurice's room. Little accustomed as he was to grief, he +instinctively sought to divert his mind, and began searching in the +little address-books for the purpose of drawing up a list of the persons +who must be invited to the funeral. But his eyes became blurred, and with +a gesture he summoned Blaise, who, after going into the bedchamber to +glance at his wife's sketch, was now returning to the drawing-room. +Thereupon the young man, standing erect beside the writing-table, began +to dictate the names in a low voice; and then, amid the deep silence +sounded a low and monotonous murmur. +</p> +<p> +The minutes slowly went by. The visitors were still waiting for +Constance. At last a little door of the death-chamber slowly opened, and +she entered that chamber noiselessly, without anybody knowing that she +was there. She looked like a spectre emerging out of the darkness into +the pale light of the tapers. She had not yet wept; her face was livid, +contracted, hardened by cold rage. Her little figure, instead of bending, +seemed to have grown taller beneath the injustice of destiny, as if borne +up by furious rebellion. Yet her loss did not surprise her. She had +immediately felt that she had expected it, although but a minute before +the death she had stubbornly refused to believe it possible. But the +thought of it had remained latent within her for long months, and +frightful evidence thereof now burst forth. She suddenly heard the +whispers of the unknown once more, and understood them; she knew the +meaning of those shivers which had chilled her, those vague, +terror-fraught regrets at having no other child! And that which had been +threatening her had come; irreparable destiny had willed it that her only +son, the salvation of the imperilled home, the prince of to-morrow, who +was to share his empire with her, should be swept away like a withered +leaf. It was utter downfall; she sank into an abyss. And she remained +tearless; fury dried her tears within her. Yet, good mother that she had +always been, she suffered all the torment of motherliness exasperated, +poisoned by the loss of her child. +</p> +<p> +She drew near to Charlotte and paused behind her, looking at the profile +of her dead son resting among the flowers. And still she did not weep. +She slowly gazed over the bed, filled her eyes with the dolorous scene, +then carried them again to the paper, as if to see what would be left +her of that adored son—those few pencil strokes—when the +earth should have taken him forever. Charlotte, divining that somebody +was behind her, started and raised her head. She did not speak; she had +felt frightened. But both women exchanged a glance. And what a heart +pang came to Constance, amid that display of death, in the presence of +the void, the nothingness that was hers, as she gazed on the other's +face, all love and health and beauty, suggesting some youthful star, +whence promise of the future radiated through the fine gold of wavy +hair. +</p> +<p> +But yet another pang came to Constance at that moment: words which were +being whispered in the drawing-room, near the door of the bedchamber, +reached her distinctly. She did not move, but remained erect behind +Charlotte, who had resumed her work. And eagerly lending ear, she +listened, not showing herself as yet, although she had already seen +Marianne and Madame Angelin seated near the doorway, almost among the +folds of the hangings. +</p> +<p> +"Ah!" Madame Angelin was saying, "the poor mother had a presentiment of +it, as it were. I saw that she felt very anxious when I told her my own +sad story. There is no hope for me; and now death has passed by, and no +hope remains for her." +</p> +<p> +Silence ensued once more; then, prompted by some connecting train of +thought, she went on: "And your next child will be your eleventh, will it +not? Eleven is not a number; you will surely end by having twelve!" +</p> +<p> +As Constance heard those words she shuddered in another fit of that fury +which dried up her tears. By glancing sideways she could see that mother +of ten children, who was now expecting yet an eleventh child. She found +her still young, still fresh, overflowing with joy and health and hope. +And she was there, like the goddess of fruitfulness, nigh to the funeral +bier at that hour of the supreme rending, when she, Constance, was bowed +down by the irretrievable loss of her only child. +</p> +<p> +But Marianne was answering Madame Angelin: "Oh I don't think that at all +likely. Why, I'm becoming an old woman. You forget that I am already a +grandmother. Here, look at that!" +</p> +<p> +So saying, she waved her hand towards the servant of her +daughter-in-law, Charlotte, who, in accordance with the instructions she +had received, was now bringing the little Berthe in order that her +mother might give her the breast. The servant had remained at the +drawing-room door, hesitating, disliking to intrude on all that +mourning; but the child good-humoredly waved her fat little fists, and +laughed lightly. And Charlotte, hearing her, immediately rose and +tripped across the <i>salon</i> to take the little one into a +neighboring room. +</p> +<p> +"What a pretty child!" murmured Madame Angelin. "Those little ones are +like nosegays; they bring brightness and freshness wherever they come." +</p> +<p> +Constance for her part had been dazzled. All at once, amid the +semi-obscurity, starred by the flames of the tapers, amid the deathly +atmosphere, which the odor of the roses rendered the more oppressive, +that laughing child had set a semblance of budding springtime, the fresh, +bright atmosphere of a long promise of life. And it typified the victory +of fruitfulness; it was the child's child, it was Marianne reviving in +her son's daughter. A grandmother already, and she was only forty-one +years old! Marianne had smiled at that thought. But the hatchet-stroke +rang out yet more frightfully in Constance's heart. In her case the tree +was cut down to its very root, the sole scion had been lopped off, and +none would ever sprout again. +</p> +<p> +For yet another moment she remained alone amid that nothingness, in that +room where lay her son's remains. Then she made up her mind and passed +into the drawing-room, with the air of a frozen spectre. They all rose, +kissed her, and shivered as their lips touched her cold cheeks, which her +blood was unable to warm. Profound compassion wrung them, so frightful +was her calmness. And they sought kind words to say to her, but she +curtly stopped them. +</p> +<p> +"It is all over," said she; "there is nothing to be said. Everything is +ended, quite ended." +</p> +<p> +Madame Angelin sobbed, Angelin himself wiped his poor fixed, blurred +eyes. Marianne and Mathieu shed tears while retaining Constance's hands +in theirs. And she, rigid and still unable to weep, refused consolation, +repeating in monotonous accents: "It is finished; nothing can give him +back to me. Is it not so? And thus there remains nothing; all is ended, +quite ended." +</p> +<p> +She needed to be brave, for visitors would soon be arriving in a stream. +But a last stab in the heart was reserved for her. Beauchêne, who since +her arrival had begun to cry again, could no longer see to write. +Moreover, his hand trembled, and he had to leave the writing-table and +fling himself into an armchair, saying to Blaise: "There sit down there, +and continue to write for me." +</p> +<p> +Then Constance saw Blaise seat himself at her son's writing-table, in his +place, dip his pen in the inkstand and begin to write with the very same +gesture that she had so often seen Maurice make. That Blaise, that son of +the Froments! What! her dear boy was not yet buried, and a Froment +already replaced him, even as vivacious, fast-growing plants overrun +neighboring barren fields. That stream of life flowing around her, intent +on universal conquest, seemed yet more threatening; grandmothers still +bore children, daughters suckled already, sons laid hands upon vacant +kingdoms. And she remained alone; she had but her unworthy, broken-down, +worn-out husband beside her; while Morange, the maniac, incessantly +walking to and fro, was like the symbolical spectre of human distress, +one whose heart and strength and reason had been carried away in the +frightful death of his only daughter. And not a sound came from the cold +and empty works; the works themselves were dead. +</p> +<p> +The funeral ceremony two days later was an imposing one. The five hundred +workmen of the establishment followed the hearse, notabilities of all +sorts made up an immense <i>cortège</i>. It was much noticed that an old +workman, father Moineaud, the oldest hand of the works, was one of the +pall-bearers. Indeed, people thought it touching, although the worthy old +man dragged his legs somewhat, and looked quite out of his element in a +frock coat, stiffened as he was by thirty years' hard toil. In the +cemetery, near the grave, Mathieu felt surprised on being approached by +an old lady who alighted from one of the mourning-coaches. +</p> +<p> +"I see, my friend," said she, "that you do not recognize me." +</p> +<p> +He made a gesture of apology. It was Séraphine, still tall and slim, but +so fleshless, so withered that one might have thought she was a hundred +years old. Cécile had warned Mathieu of it, yet if he had not seen her +himself he would never have believed that her proud insolent beauty, +which had seemed to defy time and excesses, could have faded so swiftly. +What frightful, withering blast could have swept over her? +</p> +<p> +"Ah! my friend," she continued, "I am more dead than the poor fellow whom +they are about to lower into that grave. Come and have a chat with me +some day. You are the only person to whom I can tell everything." +</p> +<p> +The coffin was lowered, the ropes gave out a creaking sound, and there +came a little thud—the last. Beauchêne, supported by a relative, +looked on with dim, vacant eyes. Constance, who had had the bitter +courage to come, and had now wept all the tears in her body, almost +fainted. She was carried away, driven back to her home, which would now +forever be empty, like one of those stricken fields that remain barren, +fated to perpetual sterility. Mother earth had taken back her all. +</p> +<p> +And at Chantebled Mathieu and Marianne founded, created, increased, and +multiplied, again proving victorious in the eternal battle which life +wages against death, thanks to that continual increase, both of offspring +and of fertile land, which was like their very existence, their joy and +their strength. Desire passed like a gust of flame, desire divine and +fruitful, since they possessed the power of love, kindliness, and health. +And their energy did the rest—that will of action, that quiet bravery +in the presence of the labor that is requisite, the labor that has made and +that regulates the world. +</p> +<p> +Still, during those two years it was not without constant battling that +victory remained to them. At last it was complete. Piece by piece Séguin +had sold the entire estate, of which Mathieu was now king, thanks to his +prudent system of conquest, that of increasing his empire by degrees as +he gradually felt himself stronger. The fortune which the idler had +disdained and dissipated had passed into the hands of the toiler, the +creator. There were 1250 acres, spreading from horizon to horizon; there +were woods intersected by broad meadows, where flocks and herds pastured; +there was fat land overflowing with harvests, in the place of marshes +that had been drained; there was other land, each year of increasing +fertility, in the place of the moors which the captured springs now +irrigated. The Lepailleurs' uncultivated enclosure alone remained, as if +to bear witness to the prodigy, the great human effort which had +quickened that desert of sand and mud, whose crops would henceforth +nourish so many happy people. Mathieu devoured no other man's share; he +had brought his share into being, increasing the common wealth, +subjugating yet another small portion of this vast world, which is still +so scantily peopled and so badly utilized for human happiness. The farm, +the homestead, had sprung up and grown in the centre of the estate like a +prosperous township, with inhabitants, servants, and live stock, a +perfect focus of ardent triumphal life. And what sovereign power was that +of the happy fruitfulness which had never wearied of creating, which had +yielded all these beings and things that had been increasing and +multiplying for twelve years past, that invading town which was but a +family's expansion, those trees, those plants, those grain crops, those +fruits whose nourishing stream ever rose under the dazzling sun! All pain +and all tears were forgotten in that joy of creation, the accomplishment +of due labor, the conquest of the future conducting to the infinite of +Action. +</p> +<p> +Then, while Mathieu completed his work of conquest, Marianne during those +two years had the happiness of seeing a daughter born to her son Blaise, +even while she herself was expecting another child. The branches of the +huge tree had begun to fork, pending the time when they would ramify +endlessly, like the branches of some great royal oak spreading afar over +the soil. There would be her children's children, her grandchildren's +children, the whole posterity increasing from generation to generation. +And yet how carefully and lovingly she still assembled around her her own +first brood, from Blaise and Denis the twins, now one-and-twenty, to the +last born, the wee creature who sucked in life from her bosom with greedy +lips. There were some of all ages in the brood—a big fellow, who was +already a father; others who went to school; others who still had to be +dressed in the morning; there were boys, Ambroise, Gervais, Grégoire, and +another; there were girls, Rose, nearly old enough to marry; Claire, +Louise, Madeleine, and Marguerite, the last of whom could scarcely +toddle. And it was a sight to see them roam over the estate like a troop +of colts, following one another at varied pace, according to their +growth. She knew that she could not keep them all tied to her +apron-strings; it would be sufficient happiness if the farm kept two or +three beside her; she resigned herself to seeing the younger ones go off +some day to conquer other lands. Such was the law of expansion; the earth +was the heritage of the most numerous race. Since they had number on +their side, they would have strength also; the world would belong to +them. The parents themselves had felt stronger, more united at the advent +of each fresh child. If in spite of terrible cares they had always +conquered, it was because their love, their toil, the ceaseless travail +of their heart and will, gave them the victory. Fruitfulness is the great +conqueress; from her come the pacific heroes who subjugate the world by +peopling it. And this time especially, when at the lapse of those two +years Marianne gave birth to a boy, Nicolas, her eleventh child, Mathieu +embraced her passionately, triumphing over every sorrow and every pang. +Yet another child; yet more wealth and power; yet an additional force +born into the world; another field ready for to-morrow's harvest. +</p> +<p> +And 'twas ever the great work, the good work, the work of fruitfulness +spreading, thanks to the earth and thanks to woman, both victorious over +destruction, offering fresh means of subsistence each time a fresh child +was born, and loving, willing, battling, toiling even amid suffering, and +ever tending to increase of life and increase of hope. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="XV">XV</a></h4> + +<p> +AMID the deep mourning life slowly resumed its course at the Beauchêne +works. One effect of the terrible blow which had fallen on Beauchêne was +that for some weeks he remained quietly at home. Indeed, he seemed to +have profited by the terrible lesson, for he no longer coined lies, no +longer invented pressing business journeys as a pretext for dissipation. +He even set to work once more, and busied himself about the factory, +coming down every morning as in his younger days. And in Blaise he found +an active and devoted lieutenant, on whom he each day cast more and more +of the heavier work. Intimates were most struck, however, by the manner +in which Beauchêne and his wife drew together again. Constance was most +attentive to her husband; Beauchêne no longer left her, and they seemed +to agree well together, leading a very retired life in their quiet house, +where only relatives were now received. +</p> +<p> +Constance, on the morrow of Maurice's sudden death, was like one who has +just lost a limb. It seemed to her that she was no longer whole; she felt +ashamed of being, as it were, disfigured. Mingled, too, with her loving +sorrow for Maurice there was humiliation at the thought that she was no +longer a mother, that she no longer had any heir-apparent to her kingdom +beside her. To think that she had been so stubbornly determined to have +but one son, one child, in order that he might become the sole master of +the family fortune, the all-powerful monarch of the future. Death had +stolen him from her, and the establishment now seemed to be less her own, +particularly since that fellow Blaise and his wife and his child, +representing those fruitful and all-invading Froments, were installed +there. She could no longer console herself for having welcomed and lodged +them, and her one passionate, all-absorbing desire was to have another +son, and thereby reconquer her empire. +</p> +<p> +This it was which led to her reconciliation with her husband, and for six +months they lived together on the best of terms. Then, however, came +another six months, and it was evident that they no longer agreed so well +together, for Beauchêne took himself off at times under the pretext of +seeking fresh air, and Constance remained at home, feverish, her eyes red +with weeping. +</p> +<p> +One day Mathieu, who had come to Grenelle to see his daughter-in-law, +Charlotte, was lingering in the garden playing with little Berthe, who +had climbed upon his knees, when he was surprised by the sudden approach +of Constance, who must have seen him from her windows. She invented a +pretext to draw him into the house, and kept him there nearly a quarter +of an hour before she could make up her mind to speak her thoughts. Then, +all at once, she began: "My dear Mathieu, you must forgive me for +mentioning a painful matter, but there are reasons why I should do so. +Nearly fifteen years ago, I know it for a fact, my husband had a child by +a girl who was employed at the works. And I also know that you acted as +his intermediary on that occasion, and made certain arrangements with +respect to that girl and her child—a boy, was it not?" +</p> +<p> +She paused for a reply. But Mathieu, stupefied at finding her so well +informed, and at a loss to understand why she spoke to him of that sorry +affair after the lapse of so many years, could only make a gesture by +which he betrayed both his surprise and his anxiety. +</p> +<p> +"Oh!" said she, "I do not address any reproach to you; I am convinced +that your motives were quite friendly, even affectionate, and that you +wished to hush up a scandal which might have been very unpleasant for me. +Moreover, I do not desire to indulge in recriminations after so long a +time. My desire is simply for information. For a long time I did not care +to investigate the statements whereby I was informed of the affair. But +the recollection of it comes back to me and haunts me persistently, and +it is natural that I should apply to you. I have never spoken a word on +the subject to my husband, and indeed it is best for our tranquillity +that I should not attempt to extort a detailed confession from him. One +circumstance which has induced me to speak to you is that on an occasion +when I accompanied Madame Angelin to a house in the Rue de Miromesnil, I +perceived you there with that girl, who had another child in her arms. So +you have not lost sight of her, and you must know what she is doing, and +whether her first child is alive, and in that case where he is, and how +he is situated." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu still refrained from replying, for Constance's increasing +feverishness put him on his guard, and impelled him to seek the motive of +such a strange application on the part of one who was as a rule so proud +and so discreet. What could be happening? Why did she strive to provoke +confidential revelations which might have far-reaching effects? Then, as +she closely scanned him with her keen eyes, he sought to answer her with +kind, evasive words. +</p> +<p> +"You greatly embarrass me. And, besides, I know nothing likely to +interest you. What good would it do yourself or your husband to stir up +all the dead past? Take my advice, forget what people may have told +you—you are so sensible and prudent—" +</p> +<p> +But she interrupted him, caught hold of his hands, and held them in her +warm, quivering grasp. Never before had she so behaved, forgetting and +surrendering herself so passionately. "I repeat," said she, "that nobody +has anything to fear from me—neither my husband, nor that girl, nor +the child. Cannot you understand me? I am simply tormented; I suffer at +knowing nothing. Yes, it seems to me that I shall feel more at ease when +I know the truth. It is for myself that I question you, for my own peace +of mind.... Ah! if I could only tell you, if I could tell you!" +</p> +<p> +He began to divine many things; it was unnecessary for her to be more +explicit. He knew that during the past year she and her husband had been +hoping for the advent of a second child, and that none had come. As a +woman, Constance felt no jealousy of Norine, but as a mother she was +jealous of her son. She could not drive the thought of that child from +her mind; it ever and ever returned thither like a mocking insult now +that her hopes of replacing Maurice were fading fast. Day by day did she +dream more and more passionately of the other woman's son, wondering +where he was, what had become of him, whether he were healthy, and +whether he resembled his father. +</p> +<p> +"I assure you, my dear Mathieu," she resumed, "that you will really bring +me relief by answering me. Is he alive? Tell me simply whether he is +alive. But do not tell me a lie. If he is dead I think that I shall feel +calmer. And yet, good heavens! I certainly wish him no evil." +</p> +<p> +Then Mathieu, who felt deeply touched, told her the simple truth. +</p> +<p> +"Since you insist on it, for the benefit of your peace of mind, and since +it is to remain entirely between us and to have no effect on your home, I +see no reason why I should not confide to you what I know. But that is +very little. The child was left at the Foundling Hospital in my presence. +Since then the mother, having never asked for news, has received none. I +need not add that your husband is equally ignorant, for he always refused +to have anything to do with the child. Is the lad still alive? Where is +he? Those are things which I cannot tell you. A long inquiry would be +necessary. If, however, you wish for my opinion, I think it probable that +he is dead, for the mortality among these poor cast-off children is very +great." +</p> +<p> +Constance looked at him fixedly. "You are telling me the real truth? You +are hiding nothing?" she asked. And as he began to protest, she went on: +"Yes, yes, I have confidence in you. And so you believe that he is dead! +Ah! to think of all those children who die, when so many women would be +happy to save one, to have one for themselves. Well, if you haven't been +able to tell me anything positive, you have at least done your best. +Thank you." +</p> +<p> +During the ensuing months Mathieu often found himself alone with +Constance, but she never reverted to the subject. She seemed to set her +energy on forgetting all about it, though he divined that it still +haunted her. Meantime things went from bad to worse in the Beauchêne +household. The husband gradually went back to his former life of +debauchery, in spite of all the efforts of Constance to keep him near +her. She, for her part, clung to her fixed idea, and before long she +consulted Boutan. There was a terrible scene that day between husband and +wife in the doctor's presence. Constance raked up the story of Norine and +cast it in Beauchêne's teeth, while he upbraided her in a variety of +ways. However, Boutan's advice, though followed for a time, proved +unavailing, and she at last lost confidence in him. Then she spent months +and months in consulting one and another. She placed herself in the hands +of Madame Bourdieu, she even went to see La Rouche, she applied to all +sorts of charlatans, exasperated to fury at finding that there was no +real succor for her. She might long ago have had a family had she so +chosen. But she had elected otherwise, setting all her egotism and pride +on that only son whom death had snatched away; and now the motherhood she +longed for was denied her. +</p> +<p> +For nearly two years did Constance battle, and at last in despair she was +seized with the idea of consulting Dr. Gaude. He told her the brutal +truth; it was useless for her to address herself to charlatans; she would +simply be robbed by them; there was absolutely no hope for her. And Gaude +uttered those decisive words in a light, jesting way, as though surprised +and amused by her profound grief. She almost fainted on the stairs as she +left his flat, and for a moment indeed death seemed welcome. But by a +great effort of will she recovered self-possession, the courage to face +the life of loneliness that now lay before her. Moreover, another idea +vaguely dawned upon her, and the first time she found herself alone with +Mathieu she again spoke to him of Norine's boy. +</p> +<p> +"Forgive me," said she, "for reverting to a painful subject, but I am +suffering too much now that I know there is no hope for me. I am haunted +by the thought of that illegitimate child of my husband's. Will you do me +a great service? Make the inquiry you once spoke to me about, try to find +out if he is alive or dead. I feel that when I know the facts peace may +perhaps return to me." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu was almost on the point of answering her that, even if this child +were found again, it could hardly cure her of her grief at having no +child of her own. He had divined her agony at seeing Blaise take +Maurice's place at the works now that Beauchêne had resumed his dissolute +life, and daily intrusted the young man with more and more authority. +Blaise's home was prospering too; Charlotte had now given birth to a +second child, a boy, and thus fruitfulness was invading the place and +usurpation becoming more and more likely, since Constance could never +more have an heir to bar the road of conquest. Without penetrating her +singular feelings, Mathieu fancied that she perhaps wished to sound him +to ascertain if he were not behind Blaise, urging on the work of +spoliation. She possibly imagined that her request would make him +anxious, and that he would refuse to make the necessary researches. At +this idea he decided to do as she desired, if only to show her that he +was above all the base calculations of ambition. +</p> +<p> +"I am at your disposal, cousin," said he. "It is enough for me that this +inquiry may give you a little relief. But if the lad is alive, am I to +bring him to you?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh! no, no, I do not ask that!" And then, gesticulating almost wildly, +she stammered: "I don't know what I want, but I suffer so dreadfully that +I am scarce able to live!" +</p> +<p> +In point of fact a tempest raged within her, but she really had no +settled plan. One could hardly say that she really thought of that boy +as a possible heir. In spite of her hatred of all conquerors from +without, was it likely that she would accept him as a conqueror, in the +face of her outraged womanly feelings and her <i>bourgeois</i> horror of +illegitimacy? And yet if he were not her son, he was at least her +husband's. And perhaps an idea of saving her empire by placing the works +in the hands of that heir was dimly rising within her, above all her +prejudices and her rancor. But however that might be, her feelings for +the time remained confused, and the only clear thing was her desperate +torment at being now and forever childless, a torment which goaded her +on to seek another's child with the wild idea of making that child in +some slight degree her own. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu, however, asked her, "Am I to inform Beauchêne of the steps I +take?" +</p> +<p> +"Do you as you please," she answered. "Still, that would be the best." +</p> +<p> +That same evening there came a complete rupture between herself and her +husband. She threw in Beauchêne's face all the contempt and loathing that +she had felt for him for years. Hopeless as she was, she revenged herself +by telling him everything that she had on her heart and mind. And her +slim dark figure, upborne by bitter rage, assumed such redoubtable +proportions in his eyes that he felt frightened by her and fled. +Henceforth they were husband and wife in name only. It was logic on the +march, it was the inevitable disorganization of a household reaching its +climax, it was rebellion against nature's law and indulgence in vice +leading to the gradual decline of a man of intelligence, it was a hard +worker sinking into the sloth of so-called pleasure; and then, death +having snatched away the only son, the home broke to pieces—the +wife—fated to childlessness, and the husband driven away by her, +rolling through debauchery towards final ruin. +</p> +<p> +But Mathieu, keeping his promise to Constance, discreetly began his +researches. And before he even consulted Beauchêne it occurred to him to +apply at the Foundling Hospital. If, as he anticipated, the child were +dead, the affair would go no further. Fortunately enough he remembered +all the particulars: the two names, Alexandre-Honoré, given to the child, +the exact date of the deposit at the hospital, indeed all the little +incidents of the day when he had driven thither with La Couteau. And when +he was received by the director of the establishment, and had explained +to him the real motives of his inquiries, at the same time giving his +name, he was surprised by the promptness and precision of the answer: +Alexandre-Honoré, put out to nurse with the woman Loiseau at Rougemont, +had first kept cows, and had then tried the calling of a locksmith; but +for three months past he had been in apprenticeship with a wheelwright, a +certain Montoir, residing at Saint-Pierre, a hamlet in the vicinity of +Rougemont. Thus the lad lived; he was fifteen years old, and that was +all. Mathieu could obtain no further information respecting either his +physical health or his morality. +</p> +<p> +When Mathieu found himself in the street again, slightly dazed, he +remembered that La Couteau had told him that the child would be sent to +Rougemont. He had always pictured it dying there, carried off by the +hurricane which killed so many babes, and lying in the silent village +cemetery paved with little Parisians. To find the boy alive, saved from +the massacre, came like a surprise of destiny, and brought vague anguish, +a fear of some terrible catastrophe to Mathieu's heart. At the same time, +since the boy was living, and he now knew where to seek him, he felt that +he must warn Beauchêne. The matter was becoming serious, and it seemed to +him that he ought not to carry the inquiry any further without the +father's authorization. +</p> +<p> +That same day, then, before returning to Chantebled, he repaired to the +factory, where he was lucky enough to find Beauchêne, whom Blaise's +absence on business had detained there by force. Thus he was in a very +bad humor, puffing and yawning and half asleep. It was nearly three +o'clock, and he declared that he could never digest his lunch properly +unless he went out afterwards. The truth was that since his rupture with +his wife he had been devoting his afternoons to paying attentions to a +girl serving at a beer-house. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! my good fellow," he muttered as he stretched himself. "My blood is +evidently thickening. I must bestir myself, or else I shall be in a bad +way." +</p> +<p> +However, he woke up when Mathieu had explained the motive of his visit. +At first he could scarcely understand it, for the affair seemed to him so +extraordinary, so idiotic. +</p> +<p> +"Eh? What do you say? It was my wife who spoke to you about that child? +It is she who has taken it into her head to collect information and start +a search?" +</p> +<p> +His fat apoplectical face became distorted, his anger was so violent that +he could scarcely stutter. When he heard, however, of the mission with +which his wife had intrusted Mathieu, he at last exploded: "She is mad! I +tell you that she is raving mad! Were such fancies ever seen? Every +morning she invents something fresh to distract me!" +</p> +<p> +Without heeding this interruption, Mathieu quietly finished his +narrative: "And so I have just come back from the Foundling Hospital, +where I learnt that the boy is alive. I have his address—and now what +am I to do?" +</p> +<p> +This was the final blow. Beauchêne clenched his fists and raised his arms +in exasperation. "Ah! well, here's a nice state of things! But why on +earth does she want to trouble me about that boy? He isn't hers! Why +can't she leave us alone, the boy and me? It's my affair. And I ask you +if it is at all proper for my wife to send you running about after him? +Besides, I hope that you are not going to bring him to her. What on earth +could we do with that little peasant, who may have every vice? Just +picture him coming between us. I tell you that she is mad, mad, mad!" +</p> +<p> +He had begun to walk angrily to and fro. All at once he stopped: "My dear +fellow, you will just oblige me by telling her that he is dead." +</p> +<p> +But he turned pale and recoiled. Constance stood on the threshold and had +heard him. For some time past she had been in the habit of stealthily +prowling around the offices, like one on the watch for something. For a +moment, at the sight of the embarrassment which both men displayed, she +remained silent. Then, without even addressing her husband, she asked: +"He is alive, is he not?" +</p> +<p> +Mathieu could but tell her the truth. He answered with a nod. Then +Beauchêne, in despair, made a final effort: "Come, be reasonable, my +dear. As I was saying only just now, we don't even know what this +youngster's character is. You surely don't want to upset our life for the +mere pleasure of doing so?" +</p> +<p> +Standing there, lean and frigid, she gave him a harsh glance; then, +turning her back on him, she demanded the child's name, and the names of +the wheelwright and the locality. "Good, you say Alexandre-Honoré, with +Montoir the wheelwright, at Saint-Pierre, near Rougemont, in Calvados. +Well, my friend, oblige me by continuing your researches; endeavor to +procure me some precise information about this boy's habits and +disposition. Be prudent, too; don't give anybody's name. And thanks for +what you have done already; thanks for all you are doing for me." +</p> +<p> +Thereupon she took herself off without giving any further explanation, +without even telling her husband of the vague plans she was forming. +Beneath her crushing contempt he had grown calm again. Why should he +spoil his life of egotistical pleasure by resisting that mad creature? +All that he need do was to put on his hat and betake himself to his usual +diversions. And so he ended by shrugging his shoulders. +</p> +<p> +"After all, let her pick him up if she chooses, it won't be my doing. Act +as she asks you, my dear fellow; continue your researches and try to +content her. Perhaps she will then leave me in peace. But I've had quite +enough of it for to-day; good-by, I'm going out." +</p> +<p> +With the view of obtaining some information of Rougemont, Mathieu at +first thought of applying to La Couteau, if he could find her again; for +which purpose it occurred to him that he might call on Madame Bourdieu in +the Rue de Miromesnil. But another and more certain means suggested +itself. He had been led to renew his intercourse with the Séguins, of +whom he had for a time lost sight; and, much to his surprise, he had +found Valentine's former maid, Céleste, in the Avenue d'Antin once more. +Through this woman, he thought, he might reach La Couteau direct. +</p> +<p> +The renewal of the intercourse between the Froments and the Séguins was +due to a very happy chance. Mathieu's son Ambroise, on leaving college, +had entered the employment of an uncle of Séguin's, Thomas du Hordel, one +of the wealthiest commission merchants in Paris; and this old man, who, +despite his years, remained very sturdy, and still directed his business +with all the fire of youth, had conceived a growing fondness for +Ambroise, who had great mental endowments and a real genius for commerce. +Du Hordel's own children had consisted of two daughters, one of whom had +died young, while the other had married a madman, who had lodged a bullet +in his head and had left her childless and crazy like himself. This +partially explained the deep grandfatherly interest which Du Hordel took +in young Ambroise, who was the handsomest of all the Froments, with a +clear complexion, large black eyes, brown hair that curled naturally, and +manners of much refinement and elegance. But the old man was further +captivated by the young fellow's spirit of enterprise, the four modern +languages which he spoke so readily, and the evident mastery which he +would some day show in the management of a business which extended over +the five parts of the world. In his childhood, among his brothers and +sisters, Ambroise had always been the boldest, most captivating and +self-assertive. The others might be better than he, but he reigned over +them like a handsome, ambitious, greedy boy, a future man of gayety and +conquest. And this indeed he proved to be; by the charm of his victorious +intellect he conquered old Du Hordel in a few months, even as later on he +was destined to vanquish everybody and everything much as he pleased. His +strength lay in his power of pleasing and his power of action, a blending +of grace with the most assiduous industry. +</p> +<p> +About this time Séguin and his uncle, who had never set foot in the house +of the Avenue d'Antin since insanity had reigned there, drew together +again. Their apparent reconciliation was the outcome of a drama shrouded +in secrecy. Séguin, hard up and in debt, cast off by Nora, who divined +his approaching ruin, and preyed upon by other voracious creatures, had +ended by committing, on the turf, one of those indelicate actions which +honest people call thefts. Du Hordel, on being apprised of the matter, +had hastened forward and had paid what was due in order to avoid a +frightful scandal. And he was so upset by the extraordinary muddle in +which he found his nephew's home, once all prosperity, that remorse came +upon him as if he were in some degree responsible for what had happened, +since he had egotistically kept away from his relatives for his own +peace's sake. But he was more particularly won over by his grandniece +Andrée, now a delicious young girl well-nigh eighteen years of age, and +therefore marriageable. She alone sufficed to attract him to the house, +and he was greatly distressed by the dangerous state of abandonment in +which he found her. +</p> +<p> +Her father continued dragging out his worthless life away from home. Her +mother, Valentine, had just emerged from a frightful crisis, her final +rupture with Santerre, who had made up his mind to marry a very wealthy +old lady, which, after all, was the logical destiny of such a crafty +exploiter of women, one who behind his affectation of cultured pessimism +had the vilest and greediest of natures. Valentine, distracted by this +rupture, had now thrown herself into religion, and, like her husband, +disappeared from the house for whole days. She was said to be an active +helpmate of old Count de Navarède, the president of a society of Catholic +propaganda. Gaston, her son, having left Saint-Cyr three months +previously, was now at the Cavalry School of Saumur, so fired with +passion for a military career that he already spoke of remaining a +bachelor, since a soldier's sword should be his only love, his only +spouse. Then Lucie, now nineteen years old, and full of mystical +exaltation, had already entered an Ursuline convent for her novitiate. +And in the big empty home, whence father, mother, brother and sister +fled, there remained but the gentle and adorable Andrée, exposed to all +the blasts of insanity which even now swept through the household, and so +distressed by loneliness, that her uncle, Du Hordel, full of +compassionate affection, conceived the idea of giving her a husband in +the person of young Ambroise, the future conqueror. +</p> +<p> +This plan was helped on by the renewed presence of Céleste the maid. +Eight years had elapsed since Valentine had been obliged to dismiss this +woman for immorality; and during those eight years Céleste, weary of +service, had tried a number of equivocal callings of which she did not +speak. She had ended by turning up at Rougemont, her native place, in bad +health and such a state of wretchedness, that for the sake of a living +she went out as a charwoman there. Then she gradually recovered her +health, and accumulated a little stock of clothes, thanks to the +protection of the village priest, whom she won over by an affectation of +extreme piety. It was at Rougemont, no doubt, that she planned her return +to the Séguins, of whose vicissitudes she was informed by La Couteau, the +latter having kept up her intercourse with Madame Menoux, the little +haberdasher of the neighborhood. +</p> +<p> +Valentine, shortly after her rupture with Santerre, one day of furious +despair, when she had again dismissed all her servants, was surprised by +the arrival of Céleste, who showed herself so repentant, so devoted, and +so serious-minded, that her former mistress felt touched. She made her +weep on reminding her of her faults, and asking her to swear before God +that she would never repeat them; for Céleste now went to confession and +partook of the holy communion, and carried with her a certificate from +the Curé of Rougemont vouching for her deep piety and high morality. This +certificate acted decisively on Valentine, who, unwilling to remain at +home, and weary of the troubles of housekeeping, understood what precious +help she might derive from this woman. On her side Céleste certainly +relied upon power being surrendered to her. Two months later, by favoring +Lucie's excessive partiality to religious practices, she had helped her +into a convent. Gaston showed himself only when he secured a few days' +leave. And so Andrée alone remained at home, impeding by her presence the +great general pillage that Céleste dreamt of. The maid therefore became a +most active worker on behalf of her young mistress's marriage. +</p> +<p> +Andrée, it should be said, was comprised in Ambroise's universal +conquest. She had met him at her uncle Du Hordel's house for a year +before it occurred to the latter to marry them. She was a very gentle +girl, a little golden-haired sheep, as her mother sometimes said. And +that handsome, smiling young man, who evinced so much kindness towards +her, became the subject of her thoughts and hopes whenever she suffered +from loneliness and abandonment. Thus, when her uncle prudently +questioned her, she flung herself into his arms, weeping big tears of +gratitude and confession. Valentine, on being approached, at first +manifested some surprise. What, a son of the Froments! Those Froments had +already taken Chantebled from them, and did they now want to take one of +their daughters? Then, amid the collapse of fortune and household, she +could find no reasonable objection to urge. She had never been attached +to Andrée. She accused La Catiche, the nurse, of having made the child +her own. That gentle, docile, emotional little sheep was not a Séguin, +she often remarked. Then, while feigning to defend the girl, Céleste +embittered her mother against her, and inspired her with a desire to see +the marriage promptly concluded, in order that she might free herself +from her last cares and live as she wished. Thus, after a long chat with +Mathieu, who promised his consent, it remained only for Du Hordel to +assure himself of Séguin's approval before an application in due form was +made. It was difficult, however, to find Séguin in a suitable frame of +mind. So weeks were lost, and it became necessary to pacify Ambroise, who +was very much in love, and was doubtless warned by his all-invading +genius that this loving and simple girl would bring him a kingdom in her +apron. +</p> +<p> +One day when Mathieu was passing along the Avenue d'Antin, it occurred to +him to call at the house to ascertain if Séguin had re-appeared there, +for he had suddenly taken himself off without warning, and had gone, so +it was believed, to Italy. Then, as Mathieu found himself alone with +Céleste, the opportunity seemed to him an excellent one to discover La +Couteau's whereabouts. He asked for news of her, saying that a friend of +his was in need of a good nurse. +</p> +<p> +"Well, monsieur, you are in luck's way," the maid replied; "La Couteau is +to bring a child home to our neighbor, Madame Menoux, this very day. It +is nearly four o'clock now, and that is the time when she promised to +come. You know Madame Menoux's place, do you not? It is the third shop in +the first street on the left." Then she apologized for being unable to +conduct him thither: "I am alone," she said; "we still have no news of +the master. On Wednesdays Madame presides at the meeting of her society, +and Mademoiselle Andrée has just gone out walking with her uncle." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu hastily repaired to Madame Menoux's shop. From a distance he saw +her standing on the threshold; age had made her thinner than ever; at +forty she was as slim as a young girl, with a long and pointed face. +Silent labor consumed her; for twenty years she had been desperately +selling bits of cotton and packages of needles without ever making a +fortune, but pleased, nevertheless, at being able to add her modest gains +to her husband's monthly salary in order to provide him with sundry +little comforts. His rheumatism would no doubt soon compel him to +relinquish his post as a museum attendant, and how would they be able to +manage with his pension of a few hundred francs per annum if she did not +keep up her business? Moreover, they had met with no luck. Their first +child had died, and some years had elapsed before the birth of a second +boy, whom they had greeted with delight, no doubt, though he would prove +a heavy burden to them, especially as they had now decided to take him +back from the country. Thus Mathieu found the worthy woman in a state of +great emotion, waiting for the child on the threshold of her shop, and +watching the corner of the avenue. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! it was Céleste who sent you, monsieur! No, La Couteau hasn't come +yet. I'm quite astonished at it; I expect her every moment. Will you +kindly step inside, monsieur, and sit down?" +</p> +<p> +He refused the only chair which blocked up the narrow passage where +scarcely three customers could have stood in a row. Behind a glass +partition one perceived the dim back shop, which served as kitchen and +dining-room and bedchamber, and which received only a little air from a +damp inner yard which suggested a sewer shaft. +</p> +<p> +"As you see, monsieur, we have scarcely any room," continued Madame +Menoux; "but then we pay only eight hundred francs rent, and where else +could we find a shop at that price? And besides, I have been here for +nearly twenty years, and have worked up a little regular custom in the +neighborhood. Oh! I don't complain of the place myself, I'm not big, +there is always sufficient room for me. And as my husband comes home only +in the evening, and then sits down in his armchair to smoke his pipe, he +isn't so much inconvenienced. I do all I can for him, and he is +reasonable enough not to ask me to do more. But with a child I fear that +it will be impossible to get on here." +</p> +<p> +The recollection of her first boy, her little Pierre, returned to her, +and her eyes filled with tears. "Ah! monsieur, that was ten years ago, +and I can still see La Couteau bringing him back to me, just as she'll be +bringing the other by and by. I was told so many tales; there was such +good air at Rougemont, and the children led such healthy lives, and my +boy had such rosy cheeks, that I ended by leaving him there till he was +five years old, regretting that I had no room for him here. And no, you +can't have an idea of all the presents that the nurse wheedled out of me, +of all the money that I paid! It was ruination! And then, all at once, I +had just time to send for the boy, and he was brought back to me as thin +and pale and weak, as if he had never tasted good bread in his life. Two +months later he died in my arms. His father fell ill over it, and if we +hadn't been attached to one another, I think we should both have gone and +drowned ourselves." +</p> +<p> +Scarce wiping her eyes she feverishly returned to the threshold, and +again cast a passionate expectant glance towards the avenue. And when she +came back, having seen nothing, she resumed: "So you will understand our +emotion when, two years ago, though I was thirty-seven, I again had a +little boy. We were wild with delight, like a young married couple. But +what a lot of trouble and worry! We had to put the little fellow out to +nurse as we let the other one, since we could not possibly keep him here. +And even after swearing that he should not go to Rougemont we ended by +saying that we at least knew the place, and that he would not be worse +off there than elsewhere. Only we sent him to La Vimeux, for we wouldn't +hear any more of La Loiseau since she sent Pierre back in such a fearful +state. And this time, as the little fellow is now two years old, I was +determined to have him home again, though I don't even know where I shall +put him. I've been waiting for an hour now, and I can't help trembling, +for I always fear some catastrophe." +</p> +<p> +She could not remain in the shop, but remained standing by the doorway, +with her neck outstretched and her eyes fixed on the street corner. All +at once a deep cry came from her: "Ah! here they are!" +</p> +<p> +Leisurely, and with a sour, harassed air, La Couteau came in and placed +the sleeping child in Madame Menoux's arms, saying as she did so: "Well, +your George is a tidy weight, I can tell you. You won't say that I've +brought you this one back like a skeleton." +</p> +<p> +Quivering, her legs sinking beneath her for very joy, the mother had been +obliged to sit down, keeping her child on her knees, kissing him, +examining him, all haste to see if he were in good health and likely to +live. He had a fat and rather pale face, and seemed big, though puffy. +When she had unfastened his wraps, her hands trembling the while with +nervousness, she found that he was pot-bellied, with small legs and arms. +</p> +<p> +"He is very big about the body," she murmured, ceasing to smile, and +turning gloomy with renewed fears. +</p> +<p> +"Ah, yes! complain away!" said La Couteau. "The other was too thin; this +one will be too fat. Mothers are never satisfied!" +</p> +<p> +At the first glance Mathieu had detected that the child was one of those +who are fed on pap, stuffed for economy's sake with bread and water, and +fated to all the stomachic complaints of early childhood. And at the +sight of the poor little fellow, Rougemont, the frightful +slaughter-place, with its daily massacre of the innocents, arose in his +memory, such as it had been described to him in years long past. There +was La Loiseau, whose habits were so abominably filthy that her nurslings +rotted as on a manure heap; there was La Vimeux, who never purchased a +drop of milk, but picked up all the village crusts and made bran porridge +for her charges as if they had been pigs; there was La Gavette too, who, +being always in the fields, left her nurslings in the charge of a +paralytic old man, who sometimes let them fall into the fire; and there +was La Cauchois, who, having nobody to watch the babes, contented herself +with tying them in their cradles, leaving them in the company of fowls +which came in bands to peck at their eyes. And the scythe of death swept +by; there was wholesale assassination; doors were left wide open before +rows of cradles, in order to make room for fresh bundles despatched from +Paris. Yet all did not die; here, for instance, was one brought home +again. But even when they came back alive they carried with them the +germs of death, and another hecatomb ensued, another sacrifice to the +monstrous god of social egotism. +</p> +<p> +"I'm tired out; I must sit down," resumed La Couteau, seating herself on +the narrow bench behind the counter. "Ah! what a trade! And to think that +we are always received as if we were heartless criminals and thieves!" +</p> +<p> +She also had become withered, her sunburnt, tanned face suggesting more +than ever the beak of a bird of prey. But her eyes remained very keen, +sharpened as it were by ferocity. She no doubt failed to get rich fast +enough, for she continued wailing, complaining of her calling, of the +increasing avarice of parents, of the demands of the authorities, of the +warfare which was being declared against nurse-agents on all sides. Yes, +it was a lost calling, said she, and really God must have abandoned her +that she should still be compelled to carry it on at forty-five years of +age. "It will end by killing me," she added; "I shall always get more +kicks than money at it. How unjust it is! Here have I brought you back a +superb child, and yet you look anything but pleased—it's enough to +disgust one of doing one's best!" +</p> +<p> +In thus complaining her object perhaps was to extract from the +haberdasher as large a present as possible. Madame Menoux was certainly +disturbed by it all. Her boy woke up and began to wail loudly, and it +became necessary to give him a little lukewarm milk. At last, when the +accounts were settled, the nurse-agent, seeing that she would have ten +francs for herself, grew calmer. She was about to take her leave when +Madame Menoux, pointing to Mathieu, exclaimed: "This gentleman wished to +speak to you on business." +</p> +<p> +Although La Couteau had not seen the gentleman for several years past, +she had recognized him perfectly well. Still she had not even turned +towards him, for she knew him to be mixed up in so many matters that his +discretion was a certainty. And so she contented herself with saying: "If +monsieur will kindly explain to me what it is I shall be quite at his +service." +</p> +<p> +"I will accompany you," replied Mathieu; "we can speak together as we +walk along." +</p> +<p> +"Very good, that will suit me well, for I am rather in a hurry." +</p> +<p> +Once outside, Mathieu resolved that he would try no ruses with her. The +best course was to tell her plainly what he wanted, and then to buy her +silence. At the first words he spoke she understood him. She well +remembered Norine's child, although in her time she had carried dozens of +children to the Foundling Hospital. The particular circumstances of that +case, however, the conversation which had taken place, her drive with +Mathieu in a cab, had all remained engraved on her memory. Moreover, she +had found that child again, at Rougemont, five days later; and she even +remembered that her friend the hospital-attendant had left it with La +Loiseau. But she had occupied herself no more about it afterwards; and +she believed that it was now dead, like so many others. When she heard +Mathieu speak of the hamlet of Saint-Pierre, of Montoir the wheelwright, +and of Alexandre-Honoré, now fifteen, who must be in apprenticeship +there, she evinced great surprise. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, you must be mistaken, monsieur," she said; "I know Montoir at +Saint-Pierre very well. And he certainly has a lad from the Foundling, of +the age you mention, at his place. But that lad came from La Cauchois; he +is a big carroty fellow named Richard, who arrived at our village some +days before the other. I know who his mother was; she was an English +woman called Amy, who stopped more than once at Madame Bourdieu's. That +ginger-haired lad is certainly not your Norine's boy. Alexandre-Honoré +was dark." +</p> +<p> +"Well, then," replied Mathieu, "there must be another apprentice at the +wheelwright's. My information is precise, it was given me officially." +</p> +<p> +After a moment's perplexity La Couteau made a gesture of ignorance, and +admitted that Mathieu might be right. "It's possible," said she; "perhaps +Montoir has two apprentices. He does a good business, and as I haven't +been to Saint-Pierre for some months now I can say nothing certain. Well, +and what do you desire of me, monsieur?" +</p> +<p> +He then gave her very clear instructions. She was to obtain the most +precise information possible about the lad's health, disposition, and +conduct, whether the schoolmaster had always been pleased with him, +whether his employer was equally satisfied, and so forth. Briefly, the +inquiry was to be complete. But, above all things, she was to carry it on +in such a way that nobody should suspect anything, neither the boy +himself nor the folks of the district. There must be absolute secrecy. +</p> +<p> +"All that is easy," replied La Couteau, "I understand perfectly, and you +can rely on me. I shall need a little time, however, and the best plan +will be for me to tell you of the result of my researches when I next +come to Paris. And if it suits you you will find me to-day fortnight, at +two o'clock, at Broquette's office in the Rue Roquépine. I am quite at +home there, and the place is like a tomb." +</p> +<p> +Some days later, as Mathieu was again at the Beauchêne works with his son +Blaise, he was observed by Constance, who called him to her and +questioned him in such direct fashion that he had to tell her what steps +he had taken. When she heard of his appointment with La Couteau for the +Wednesday of the ensuing week, she said to him in her resolute way: "Come +and fetch me. I wish to question that woman myself. I want to be quite +certain on the matter." +</p> +<p> +In spite of the lapse of fifteen years Broquette's nurse-office in the +Rue Roquépine had remained the same as formerly, except that Madame +Broquette was dead and had been succeeded by her daughter Herminie. The +sudden loss of that fair, dignified lady, who had possessed such a +decorative presence and so ably represented the high morality and +respectability of the establishment, had at first seemed a severe one. +But it so happened that Herminie, a tall, slim, languid creature that she +was, gorged with novel-reading, also proved in her way a distinguished +figurehead for the office. She was already thirty and was still +unmarried, feeling indeed nothing but loathing for all the mothers laden +with whining children by whom she was surrounded. Moreover, M. Broquette, +her father, though now more than five-and-seventy, secretly remained the +all-powerful, energetic director of the place, discharging all needful +police duties, drilling new nurses like recruits, remaining ever on the +watch and incessantly perambulating the three floors of his suspicious, +dingy lodging-house. +</p> +<p> +La Couteau was waiting for Mathieu in the doorway. On perceiving +Constance, whom she did not know, for she had never previously met her, +she seemed surprised. Who could that lady be? what had she to do with the +affair? However, she promptly extinguished the bright gleam of curiosity +which for a moment lighted up her eyes; and as Herminie, with +distinguished nonchalance, was at that moment exhibiting a party of +nurses to two gentlemen in the office, she took her visitors into the +empty refectory, where the atmosphere was as usual tainted by a horrible +stench of cookery. +</p> +<p> +"You must excuse me, monsieur and madame," she exclaimed, "but there is +no other room free just now. The place is full." +</p> +<p> +Then she carried her keen glances from Mathieu to Constance, preferring +to wait until she was questioned, since another person was now in the +secret. +</p> +<p> +"You can speak out," said Mathieu. "Did you make the inquiries I spoke to +you about?" +</p> +<p> +"Certainly, monsieur. They were made, and properly made, I think." +</p> +<p> +"Then tell us the result: I repeat that you can speak freely before this +lady." +</p> +<p> +"Oh! monsieur, it won't take me long. You were quite right: there were +two apprentices at the wheelwright's at Saint-Pierre, and one of them was +Alexandre-Honoré, the pretty blonde's child, the same that we took +together over yonder. He had been there, I found, barely two months, +after trying three or four other callings, and that explains my ignorance +of the circumstance. Only he's a lad who can stay nowhere, and so three +weeks ago he took himself off." +</p> +<p> +Constance could not restrain an exclamation of anxiety: "What! took +himself off?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, madame, I mean that he ran away, and this time it is quite certain +that he has left the district, for he disappeared with three hundred +francs belonging to Montoir, his master." +</p> +<p> +La Couteau's dry voice rang as if it were an axe dealing a deadly blow. +Although she could not understand the lady's sudden pallor and despairing +emotion, she certainly seemed to derive cruel enjoyment from it. +</p> +<p> +"Are you quite sure of your information?" resumed Constance, struggling +against the facts. "That is perhaps mere village tittle-tattle." +</p> +<p> +"Tittle-tattle, madame? Oh! when I undertake to do anything I do it +properly. I spoke to the gendarmes. They have scoured the whole district, +and it is certain that Alexandre-Honoré left no address behind him when +he went off with those three hundred francs. He is still on the run. As +for that I'll stake my name on it." +</p> +<p> +This was indeed a hard blow for Constance. That lad, whom she fancied she +had found again, of whom she dreamt incessantly, and on whom she had +based so many unacknowledgable plans of vengeance, escaped her, vanished +once more into the unknown! She was distracted by it as by some pitiless +stroke of fate, some fresh and irreparable defeat. However, she continued +the interrogatory. +</p> +<p> +"Surely you did not merely see the gendarmes? you were instructed to +question everybody." +</p> +<p> +"That is precisely what I did, madame. I saw the schoolmaster, and I +spoke to the other persons who had employed the lad. They all told me +that he was a good-for-nothing. The schoolmaster remembered that he had +been a liar and a bully. Now he's a thief; that makes him perfect. I +can't say otherwise than I have said, since you wanted to know the plain +truth." +</p> +<p> +La Couteau thus emphasized her statements on seeing that the lady's +suffering increased. And what strange suffering it was; a heart-pang at +each fresh accusation, as if her husband's illegitimate child had become +in some degree her own! She ended indeed by silencing the nurse-agent. +</p> +<p> +"Thank you. The boy is no longer at Rougemont, that is all we wished to +know." +</p> +<p> +La Couteau thereupon turned to Mathieu, continuing her narrative, in +order to give him his money's worth. +</p> +<p> +"I also made the other apprentice talk a bit," said she; "you know, that +big carroty fellow, Richard, whom I spoke to you about. He's another whom +I wouldn't willingly trust. But it's certain that he doesn't know where +his companion has gone. The gendarmes think that Alexandre is in Paris." +</p> +<p> +Thereupon Mathieu in his turn thanked the woman, and handed her a +bank-note for fifty francs—a gift which brought a smile to her face +and rendered her obsequious, and, as she herself put it, "as discreetly +silent as the grave." Then, as three nurses came into the refectory, and +Monsieur Broquette could be heard scrubbing another's hands in the +kitchen, by way of teaching her how to cleanse herself of her native +dirt, Constance felt nausea arise within her, and made haste to follow +her companion away. Once in the street, instead of entering the cab which +was waiting, she paused pensively, haunted by La Couteau's final words. +</p> +<p> +"Did you hear?" she exclaimed. "That wretched lad may be in Paris." +</p> +<p> +"That is probable enough; they all end by stranding here." +</p> +<p> +Constance again hesitated, reflected, and finally made up her mind to say +in a somewhat tremulous voice: "And the mother, my friend; you know where +she lives, don't you? Did you not tell me that you had concerned yourself +about her?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, I did." +</p> +<p> +"Then listen—and above all, don't be astonished; pity me, for I am +really suffering. An idea has just taken possession of me; it seems to me +that if the boy is in Paris, he may have found his mother. Perhaps he is +with her, or she may at least know where he lodges. Oh! don't tell me +that it is impossible. On the contrary, everything is possible." +</p> +<p> +Surprised and moved at seeing one who usually evinced so much calmness +now giving way to such fancies as these, Mathieu promised that he would +make inquiries. Nevertheless, Constance did not get into the cab, but +continued gazing at the pavement. And when she once more raised her eyes, +she spoke to him entreatingly, in an embarrassed, humble manner: "Do you +know what we ought to do? Excuse me, but it is a service I shall never +forget. If I could only know the truth at once it might calm me a little. +Well, let us drive to that woman's now. Oh! I won't go up; you can go +alone, while I wait in the cab at the street corner. And perhaps you will +obtain some news." +</p> +<p> +It was an insane idea, and he was at first minded to prove this to her. +Then, on looking at her, she seemed to him so wretched, so painfully +tortured, that without a word, making indeed but a kindly gesture of +compassion, he consented. And the cab carried them away. +</p> +<p> +The large room in which Norine and Cécile lived together was at Grenelle, +near the Champ de Mars, in a street at the end of the Rue de la +Fédération. They had been there for nearly six years now, and in the +earlier days had experienced much worry and wretchedness. But the child +whom they had to feed and save had on his side saved them also. The +motherly feelings slumbering in Norine's heart had awakened with +passionate intensity for that poor little one as soon as she had given +him the breast and learnt to watch over him and kiss him. And it was also +wondrous to see how that unfortunate creature Cécile regarded the child +as in some degree her own. He had indeed two mothers, whose thoughts were +for him alone. If Norine, during the first few months, had often wearied +of spending her days in pasting little boxes together, if even thoughts +of flight had at times come to her, she had always been restrained by the +puny arms that were clasped around her neck. And now she had grown calm, +sensible, diligent, and very expert at the light work which Cécile had +taught her. It was a sight to see them both, gay and closely united in +their little home, which was like a convent cell, spending their days at +their little table; while between them was their child, their one source +of life, of hard-working courage and happiness. +</p> +<p> +Since they had been living thus they had made but one good friend, and +this was Madame Angelin. As a delegate of the Poor Relief Service, +intrusted with one of the Grenelle districts, Madame Angelin had found +Norine among the pensioners over whom she was appointed to watch. A +feeling of affection for the two mothers, as she called the sisters, had +sprung up within her, and she had succeeded in inducing the authorities +to prolong the child's allowance of thirty francs a month for a period of +three years. Then she had obtained scholastic assistance for him, not to +mention frequent presents which she brought—clothes, linen, and even +money—for apart from official matters, charitable people often +intrusted her with fairly large sums, which she distributed among the most +meritorious of the poor mothers whom she visited. And even nowadays she +occasionally called on the sisters, well pleased to spend an hour in that +nook of quiet toil, which the laughter and the play of the child +enlivened. She there felt herself to be far away from the world, and +suffered less from her own misfortunes. And Norine kissed her hands, +declaring that without her the little household of the two mothers would +never have managed to exist. +</p> +<p> +When Mathieu appeared there, cries of delight arose. He also was a +friend, a saviour—the one who, by first taking and furnishing the +large room, had founded the household. It was a very clean room, almost +coquettish with its white curtains, and rendered very cheerful by its two +large windows, which admitted the golden radiance of the afternoon sun. +Norine and Cécile were working at the table, cutting out cardboard and +pasting it together, while the little one, who had come home from school, +sat between them on a high chair, gravely handling a pair of scissors and +fully persuaded that he was helping them. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! is it you? How kind of you to come to see us! Nobody has called for +five days past. Oh! we don't complain of it. We are so happy alone +together! Since Irma married a clerk she has treated us with disdain. +Euphrasie can no longer come down her stairs. Victor and his wife live so +far away. And as for that rascal Alfred, he only comes up here to see if +he can find something to steal. Mamma called five days ago to tell us +that papa had narrowly escaped being killed at the works on the previous +day. Poor mamma! she is so worn out that before long she won't be able to +take a step." +</p> +<p> +While the sisters thus rattled on both together, one beginning a sentence +and the other finishing it, Mathieu looked at Norine, who, thanks to that +peaceful and regular life, had regained in her thirty-sixth year a +freshness of complexion that suggested a superb, mature fruit gilded by +the sun. And even the slender Cécile had acquired strength, the strength +which love's energy can impart even to a childish form. +</p> +<p> +All at once, however, she raised a loud exclamation of horror: "Oh! he +has hurt himself, the poor little fellow." And at once she snatched the +scissors from the child, who sat there laughing with a drop of blood at +the tip of one of his fingers. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! good Heavens," murmured Norine, who had turned quite pale, "I feared +that he had slit his hand." +</p> +<p> +For a moment Mathieu wondered if he would serve any useful purpose by +fulfilling the strange mission he had undertaken. Then it seemed to him +that it might be as well to say at least a word of warning to the young +woman who had grown so calm and quiet, thanks to the life of work which +she had at last embraced. And he proceeded very prudently, only revealing +the truth by slow degrees. Nevertheless, there came a moment when, after +reminding Norine of the birth of Alexandre-Honoré, it became necessary +for him to add that the boy was living. +</p> +<p> +The mother looked at Mathieu in evident consternation. "He is living, +living! Why do you tell me that? I was so pleased at knowing nothing." +</p> +<p> +"No doubt; but it is best that you should know. I have even been assured +that he must now be in Paris, and I wondered whether he might have found +you, and have come to see you." +</p> +<p> +At this she lost all self-possession. "What! Have come to see me! Nobody +has been to see me. Do you think, then, that he might come? But I don't +want him to do so! I should go mad! A big fellow of fifteen falling on me +like that—a lad I don't know and don't care for! Oh! no, no; prevent +it, I beg of you; I couldn't—I couldn't bear it!" +</p> +<p> +With a gesture of utter distraction she had burst into tears, and had +caught hold of the little one near her, pressing him to her breast as if +to shield him from the other, the unknown son, the stranger, who by his +resurrection threatened to thrust himself in some degree in the younger +lad's place. +</p> +<p> +"No, no!" she cried. "I have but one child; there is only one I love; I +don't want any other." +</p> +<p> +Cécile had risen, greatly moved, and desirous of bringing her sister to +reason. Supposing that the other son should come, how could she turn him +out of doors? At the same time, though her pity was aroused for the +abandoned one, she also began to bewail the loss of their happiness. It +became necessary for Mathieu to reassure them both by saying that he +regarded such a visit as most improbable. Without telling them the exact +truth, he spoke of the elder lad's disappearance, adding, however, that +he must be ignorant even of his mother's name. Thus, when he left the +sisters, they already felt relieved and had again turned to their little +boxes while smiling at their son, to whom they had once more intrusted +the scissors in order that he might cut out some paper men. +</p> +<p> +Down below, at the street corner, Constance, in great impatience, was +looking out of the cab window, watching the house-door. +</p> +<p> +"Well?" she asked, quivering, as soon as Mathieu was near her. +</p> +<p> +"Well, the mother knows nothing and has seen nobody. It was a foregone +conclusion." +</p> +<p> +She sank down as if from some supreme collapse, and her ashen face became +quite distorted. "You are right, it was certain," said she; "still one +always hopes." And with a gesture of despair she added: "It is all ended +now. Everything fails me, my last dream is dead." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu pressed her hand and remained waiting for her to give an address +in order that he might transmit it to the driver. But she seemed to have +lost her head and to have forgotten where she wished to go. Then, as she +asked him if he would like her to set him down anywhere, he replied that +he wished to call on the Séguins. The fear of finding herself alone again +so soon after the blow which had fallen on her thereupon gave her the +idea of paying a visit to Valentine, whom she had not seen for some time +past. +</p> +<p> +"Get in," she said to Mathieu; "we will go to the Avenue d'Antin +together." +</p> +<p> +The vehicle rolled off and heavy silence fell between them; they had not +a word to say to one another. However, as they were reaching their +destination, Constance exclaimed in a bitter voice: "You must give my +husband the good news, and tell him that the boy has disappeared. Ah! +what a relief for him!" +</p> +<p> +Mathieu, on calling in the Avenue d'Antin, had hoped to find the Séguins +assembled there. Séguin himself had returned to Paris, nobody knew +whence, a week previously, when Andrée's hand had been formally asked of +him; and after an interview with his uncle Du Hordel he had evinced great +willingness and cordiality. Indeed, the wedding had immediately been +fixed for the month of May, when the Froments also hoped to marry off +their daughter Rose. The two weddings, it was thought, might take place +at Chantebled on the same day, which would be delightful. This being +arranged, Ambroise was accepted as <i>fiancé</i>, and to his great delight +was able to call at the Séguins' every day, about five o'clock, to pay his +court according to established usage. It was on account of this that +Mathieu fully expected to find the whole family at home. +</p> +<p> +When Constance asked for Valentine, however, a footman informed her that +Madame had gone out. And when Mathieu in his turn asked for Séguin, the +man replied that Monsieur was also absent. Only Mademoiselle was at home +with her betrothed. On learning this the visitors went upstairs. +</p> +<p> +"What! are you left all alone?" exclaimed Mathieu on perceiving the young +couple seated side by side on a little couch in the big room on the first +floor, which Séguin had once called his "cabinet." +</p> +<p> +"Why, yes, we are alone in the house," Andrée answered with a charming +laugh. "We are very pleased at it." +</p> +<p> +They looked adorable, thus seated side by side—she so gentle, of such +tender beauty—he with all the fascinating charm that was blended with +his strength. +</p> +<p> +"Isn't Céleste there at any rate?" again inquired Mathieu. +</p> +<p> +"No, she has disappeared we don't know where." And again they laughed +like free frolicsome birds ensconced in the depths of some lonely forest. +</p> +<p> +"Well, you cannot be very lively all alone like this." +</p> +<p> +"Oh! we don't feel at all bored, we have so many things to talk about. +And then we look at one another. And there is never an end to it all." +</p> +<p> +Though her heart bled, Constance could not help admiring them. Ah, to +think of it! Such grace, such health, such hope! While in her home all +was blighted, withered, destroyed, that race of Froments seemed destined +to increase forever! For this again was a conquest—those two children +left free to love one another, henceforth alone in that sumptuous mansion +which to-morrow would belong to them. Then, at another thought, Constance +turned towards Mathieu: "Are you not also marrying your eldest daughter?" +she asked. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, Rose," Mathieu gayly responded. "We shall have a grand <i>fête</i> at +Chantebled next May! You must all of you come there." +</p> +<p> +'Twas indeed as she had thought: numbers prevailed, life proved +victorious. Chantebled had been conquered from the Séguins, and now their +very house would soon be invaded by Ambroise, while the Beauchêne works +themselves had already half fallen into the hands of Blaise. +</p> +<p> +"We will go," she answered, quivering. "And may your good luck +continue—that is what I wish you." +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="XVI">XVI</a></h4> + +<p> +AMID the general delight attending the double wedding which was to prove, +so to say, a supreme celebration of the glory of Chantebled, it had +occurred to Mathieu's daughter Rose to gather the whole family together +one Sunday, ten days before the date appointed for the ceremony. She and +her betrothed, followed by the whole family, were to repair to Janville +station in the morning to meet the other affianced pair, Ambroise and +Andrée, who were to be conducted in triumph to the farm where they would +all lunch together. It would be a kind of wedding rehearsal, she +exclaimed with her hearty laugh; they would be able to arrange the +programme for the great day. And her idea enraptured her to such a point, +she seemed to anticipate so much delight from this preliminary festival, +that Mathieu and Marianne consented to it. +</p> +<p> +Rose's marriage was like the supreme blossoming of years of prosperity, +and brought a finishing touch to the happiness of the home. She was the +prettiest of Mathieu's daughters, with dark brown hair, round gilded +cheeks, merry eyes, and charming mouth. And she had the most equable of +dispositions, her laughter ever rang out so heartily! She seemed indeed +to be the very soul, the good fairy, of that farm teeming with busy life. +But beneath the invariable good humor which kept her singing from morning +till night there was much common sense and energy of affection, as her +choice of a husband showed. Eight years previously Mathieu had engaged +the services of one Frédéric Berthaud, the son of a petty farmer of the +neighborhood. This sturdy young fellow had taken a passionate interest in +the creative work of Chantebled, learning and working there with rare +activity and intelligence. He had no means of his own at all. Rose, who +had grown up near him, knew however that he was her father's preferred +assistant, and when he returned to the farm at the expiration of his +military service she, divining that he loved her, forced him to +acknowledge it. Thus she settled her own future life; she wished to +remain near her parents, on that farm which had hitherto held all her +happiness. Neither Mathieu nor Marianne was surprised at this. Deeply +touched, they signified their approval of a choice in which affection for +themselves had so large a part. The family ties seemed to be drawn yet +closer, and increase of joy came to the home. +</p> +<p> +So everything was settled, and it was agreed that on the appointed Sunday +Ambroise should bring his betrothed Andrée and her mother, Madame Séguin, +to Janville by the ten o'clock train. A couple of hours previously Rose +had already begun a battle with the object of prevailing upon the whole +family to repair to the railway station to meet the affianced pair. +</p> +<p> +"But come, my children, it is unreasonable," Marianne gently exclaimed. +"It is necessary that somebody should stay at home. I shall keep Nicolas +here, for there is no need to send children of five years old scouring +the roads. I shall also keep Gervais and Claire. But you may take all the +others if you like, and your father shall lead the way." +</p> +<p> +Rose, however, still merrily laughing, clung to her plan. "No, no, mamma, +you must come as well; everybody must come; it was promised. Ambroise and +Andrée, you see, are like a royal couple from a neighboring kingdom. My +brother Ambroise, having won the hand of a foreign princess, is going to +present her to us. And so, to do them the honors of our own empire, we, +Frédéric and I, must go to meet them, attended by the whole Court. You +form the Court and you cannot do otherwise than come. Ah what a fine +sight it will be when we spread out through the country on our way home +again!" +</p> +<p> +Marianne, amused by her daughter's overflowing gayety, ended by laughing +and giving way. +</p> +<p> +"This will be the order of the march," resumed Rose. "Oh! I've planned +everything, as you will see! As for Frédéric and myself, we shall go +on our bicycles—that is the most modern style. We will also take +my maids of honor, my little sisters Louise, Madeleine, and Marguerite, +eleven, nine, and seven years old, on their bicycles. They will look +very well behind me. Then Grégoire can follow on his wheel; he is +thirteen, and will do as a page, bringing up the rear of my personal +escort. All the rest of the Court will have to pack itself into the +chariot—I mean the big family wagon, in which there is room for +eight. You, as Queen Mother, may keep your last little prince, Nicolas, +on your knees. Papa will only have to carry himself proudly, as befits +the head of a dynasty. And my brother Gervais, that young Hercules of +seventeen, shall drive, with Claire, who at fifteen is so remarkable for +common sense, beside him on the box-seat. As for the illustrious twins, +those high and mighty lords, Denis and Blaise, we will call for them at +Janville, since they are waiting for us there, at Madame Desvignes'." +</p> +<p> +Thus did Rose rattle on, exulting over the scheme she had devised. She +danced, sang, clapped her hands, and finally exclaimed: "Ah! for a pretty +<i>cortège</i> this will be fine indeed." +</p> +<p> +She was animated by such joyous haste that she made the party start much +sooner than was necessary, and they reached Janville at half-past nine. +It was true, however, that they had to call for the others there. The +house in which Madame Desvignes had taken refuge after her husband's +death, and which she had now occupied for some twelve years, living there +in a very quiet retired way on the scanty income she had managed to save, +was the first in the village, on the high road. For a week past her elder +daughter Charlotte, Blaise's wife, had come to stay there with her +children, Berthe and Christophe, who needed change of air; and on the +previous evening they had been joined by Blaise, who was well pleased to +spend Sunday with them. +</p> +<p> +Madame Desvignes' younger daughter, Marthe, was delighted whenever her +sister thus came to spend a few weeks in the old home, bringing her +little ones with her, and once more occupying the room which had belonged +to her in her girlish days. All the laughter and playfulness of the past +came back again, and the one dream of worthy Madame Desvignes, amid her +pride at being a grandmamma, was of completing her life-work, hitherto so +prudently carried on, by marrying off Marthe in her turn. As a matter of +fact it had seemed likely that there might be three instead of two +weddings at Chantebled that spring. Denis, who, since leaving a +scientific school had embarked in fresh technical studies, often slept at +the farm and nearly every Sunday he saw Marthe, who was of the same age +as Rose and her constant companion. The young girl, a pretty blonde like +her sister Charlotte, but of a less impulsive and more practical nature, +had indeed attracted Denis, and, dowerless though she was, he had made up +his mind to marry her, since he had discovered that she possessed the +sterling qualities that help one on to fortune. But in their chats +together both evinced good sense and serene confidence, without sign of +undue haste. Particularly was this the case with Denis, who was very +methodical in his ways and unwilling to place a woman's happiness in +question until he could offer her an assured position. Thus, of their own +accord, they had postponed their marriage, quietly and smilingly +resisting the passionate assaults of Rose, whom the idea of three +weddings on the same day had greatly excited. At the same time, Denis +continued visiting Madame Desvignes, who, on her side, equally prudent +and confident, received him much as if he were her son. That morning he +had even quitted the farm at seven o'clock, saying that he meant to +surprise Blaise in bed; and thus he also was to be met at Janville. +</p> +<p> +As it happened, the <i>fête</i> of Janville fell on Sunday, the second +in May. Encompassing the square in front of the railway station were +roundabouts, booths, shooting galleries, and refreshment stalls. Stormy +showers during the night had cleansed the sky, which was of a pure blue, +with a flaming sun, whose heat in fact was excessive for the season. A +good many people were already assembled on the square—all the +idlers of the district, bands of children, and peasants of the +surrounding country, eager to see the sights; and into the midst of this +crowd fell the Froments—first the bicyclists, next the wagon, and +then the others who had been met at the entry of the village. +</p> +<p> +"We are producing our little effect!" exclaimed Rose as she sprang from +her wheel. +</p> +<p> +This was incontestable. During the earlier years the whole of Janville +had looked harshly on those Froments, those <i>bourgeois</i> who had +come nobody knew whence, and who, with overweening conceit, had talked +of making corn grow in land where there had been nothing but crops of +stones for centuries past. Then the miracle, Mathieu's extraordinary +victory, had long hurt people's vanity and thereby increased their +anger. But everything passes away; one cannot regard success with +rancor, and folks who grow rich always end by being in the right. Thus, +nowadays, Janville smiled complacently on that swarming family which had +grown up beside it, forgetting that in former times each fresh birth at +Chantebled had been regarded as quite scandalous by the gossips. +Besides, how could one resist such a happy display of strength and +power, such a merry invasion, when, as on that festive Sunday, the whole +family came up at a gallop, conquering the roads, the streets, and the +squares? What with the father and mother, the eleven children—six +boys and five girls—and two grandchildren already, there were +fifteen of them. The eldest boys, the twins, were now four-and twenty, +and still so much alike that people occasionally mistook one for the +other as in their cradle days, when Marianne had been obliged to open +their eyes to identify them, those of Blaise being gray, and those of +Denis black. Nicolas, the youngest boy, at the other end of the family +scale, was as yet but five years old; a delightful little urchin was he, +a precocious little man whose energy and courage were quite amusing. And +between the twins and that youngster came the eight other children: +Ambroise, the future husband, who was already on the road to every +conquest; Rose, so brimful of life; who likewise was on the eve of +marrying; Gervais, with his square brow and wrestler's limbs, who would +soon be fighting the good fight of agriculture; Claire, who was silent +and hardworking, and lacked beauty, but possessed a strong heart and a +housewife's sensible head. Next Grégoire, the undisciplined, +self-willed schoolboy, who was ever beating the hedges in search of +adventures; and then the three last girls: Louise, plump and good +natured; Madeleine, delicate and of dreamy mind; Marguerite, the least +pretty but the most loving of the trio. And when, behind their father +and their mother, the eleven came along one after the other, followed +too by Berthe and Christophe, representing yet another generation, it +was a real procession that one saw, as, for instance, on that fine +Sunday on the Grand Place of Janville, already crowded with +holiday-making folks. And the effect was irresistible; even those who +were scarcely pleased with the prodigious success of Chantebled felt +enlivened and amused at seeing the Froments galloping about and invading +the place. So much health and mirth and strength accompanied them, as if +earth with her overflowing gifts of life had thus profusely created them +for to-morrow's everlasting hopes. +</p> +<p> +"Let those who think themselves more numerous come forward!" Rose resumed +gayly. "And then we will count one another." +</p> +<p> +"Come, be quiet!" said her mother, who, after alighting from the wagon, +had set Nicolas on the ground. "You will end by making people hoot us." +</p> +<p> +"Hoot us! Why, they admire us: just look at them! How funny it is, mamma, +that you are not prouder of yourself and of us!" +</p> +<p> +"Why, I am so very proud that I fear to humiliate others." +</p> +<p> +They all began to laugh. And Mathieu, standing near Marianne, likewise +felt proud at finding himself, as he put it, among "the sacred battalion" +of his sons and daughters. To that battalion worthy Madame Desvignes +herself belonged, since her daughter Charlotte was adding soldiers to it +and helping it to become an army. Such as it was indeed, this was only +the beginning; later on the battalion would be seen ever increasing and +multiplying, becoming a swarming victorious race, great-grandchildren +following grandchildren, till there were fifty of them, and a hundred, +and two hundred, all tending to increase the happiness and beauty of the +world. And in the mingled amazement and amusement of Janville gathered +around that fruitful family there was certainly some of the instinctive +admiration which is felt for the strength and the healthfulness which +create great nations. +</p> +<p> +"Besides, we have only friends now," remarked Mathieu. "Everybody is +cordial with us!" +</p> +<p> +"Oh, everybody!" muttered Rose. "Just look at the Lepailleurs yonder, in +front of that booth." +</p> +<p> +The Lepailleurs were indeed there—the father, the mother, Antonin, +and Thérèse. In order to avoid the Froments they were pretending to take +great interest in a booth, where a number of crudely-colored china +ornaments were displayed as prizes for the winners at a "lucky-wheel." +They no longer even exchanged courtesies with the Chantebled folks; for +in their impotent rage at such ceaseless prosperity they had availed +themselves of a petty business dispute to break off all relations. +Lepailleur regarded the creation of Chantebled as a personal insult, for +he had not forgotten his jeers and challenges with respect to those +moorlands, from which, in his opinion, one would never reap anything but +stones. And thus, when he had well examined the china ornaments, it +occurred to him to be insolent, with which object he turned round and +stared at the Froments, who, as the train they were expecting would not +arrive for another quarter of an hour, were gayly promenading through the +fair. +</p> +<p> +The miller's bad temper had for the last two months been increased by the +return of his son Antonin to Janville under very deplorable +circumstances. This young fellow, who had set off one morning to conquer +Paris, sent there by his parents, who had a blind confidence in his fine +handwriting, had remained with Maître Rousselet the attorney for four +years as a petty clerk, dull-witted and extremely idle. He had not made +the slightest progress in his profession, but had gradually sunk into +debauchery, café-life, drunkenness, gambling, and facile amours. To him +the conquest of Paris meant greedy indulgence in the coarsest pleasures +such as he had dreamt of in his village. It consumed all his money, all +the supplies which he extracted from his mother by continual promises of +victory, in which she implicitly believed, so great was her faith in him. +But he ended by grievously suffering in health, turned thin and yellow, +and actually began to lose his hair at three-and-twenty, so that his +mother, full of alarm, brought him home one day, declaring that he worked +too hard, and that she would not allow him to kill himself in that +fashion. It leaked out, however, later on, that Maître Rousselet had +summarily dismissed him. Even before this was known his return home did +not fail to make his father growl. The miller partially guessed the +truth, and if he did not openly vent his anger, it was solely from pride, +in order that he might not have to confess his mistake with respect to +the brilliant career which he had predicted for Antonin. At home, when +the doors were closed, Lepailleur revenged himself on his wife, picking +the most frightful quarrels with her since he had discovered her frequent +remittances of money to their son. But she held her own against him, for +even as she had formerly admired him, so at present she admired her boy. +She sacrificed, as it were, the father to the son, now that the latter's +greater learning brought her increased surprise. And so the household was +all disagreement as a result of that foolish attempt, born of vanity, to +make their heir a Monsieur, a Parisian. Antonin for his part sneered and +shrugged his shoulders at it all, idling away his time pending the day +when he might be able to resume a life of profligacy. +</p> +<p> +When the Froments passed by, it was a fine sight to see the Lepailleurs +standing there stiffly and devouring them with their eyes. The father +puckered his lips in an attempt to sneer, and the mother jerked her head +with an air of bravado. The son, standing there with his hands in his +pockets, presented a sorry sight with his bent back, his bald head, and +pale face. All three were seeking to devise something disagreeable when +an opportunity presented itself. +</p> +<p> +"Why, where is Thérèse?" exclaimed La Lepailleur. "She was here just now: +what has become of her? I won't have her leave me when there are all +these people about!" +</p> +<p> +It was quite true, for the last moment Thérèse had disappeared. She was +now ten years old and very pretty, quite a plump little blonde, with wild +hair and black eyes which shone brightly. But she had a terribly +impulsive and wilful nature, and would run off and disappear for hours at +a time, beating the hedges and scouring the countryside in search of +birds'-nests and flowers and wild fruit. If her mother, however, made +such a display of alarm, darting hither and thither to find her, just as +the Froments passed by, it was because she had become aware of some +scandalous proceedings during the previous week. Thérèse's ardent dream +was to possess a bicycle, and she desired one the more since her parents +stubbornly refused to content her, declaring in fact that those machines +might do for <i>bourgeois</i> but were certainly not fit for well-behaved +girls. Well, one afternoon, when she had gone as usual into the fields, her +mother, returning from market, had perceived her on a deserted strip of +road, in company with little Grégoire Froment, another young wanderer +whom she often met in this wise, in spots known only to themselves. The +two made a very suitable pair, and were ever larking and rambling along +the paths, under the leaves, beside the ditches. But the abominable thing +was that, on this occasion, Grégoire, having seated Thérèse on his own +bicycle, was supporting her at the waist and running alongside, helping +her to direct the machine. Briefly it was a real bicycle lesson which the +little rascal was giving, and which the little hussy took with all the +pleasure in the world. When Thérèse returned home that evening she had +her ears soundly boxed for her pains. +</p> +<p> +"Where can that little gadabout have got to?" La Lepailleur continued +shouting. "One can no sooner take one's eyes off her than she runs away." +</p> +<p> +Antonin, however, having peeped behind the booth containing the china +ornaments, lurched back again, still with his hands in his pockets, and +said with his vicious sneer: "Just look there, you'll see something." +</p> +<p> +And indeed, behind the booth, his mother again found Thérèse and Grégoire +together. The lad was holding his bicycle with one hand and explaining +some of the mechanism of it, while the girl, full of admiration and +covetousness, looked on with glowing eyes. Indeed she could not resist +her inclination, but laughingly let Grégoire raise her in order to seat +her for a moment on the saddle, when all at once her mother's terrible +voice burst forth: "You wicked hussy! what are you up to there again? +Just come back at once, or I'll settle your business for you." +</p> +<p> +Then Mathieu also, catching sight of the scene, sternly summoned +Grégoire: "Please to place your wheel with the others. You know what I +have already said to you, so don't begin again." +</p> +<p> +It was war. Lepailleur impudently growled ignoble threats, which +fortunately were lost amid the strains of a barrel organ. And the two +families separated, going off in different directions through the growing +holiday-making crowd. +</p> +<p> +"Won't that train ever come, then?" resumed Rose, who with joyous +impatience was at every moment turning to glance at the clock of the +little railway station on the other side of the square. "We have still +ten minutes to wait: whatever shall we do?" +</p> +<p> +As it happened she had stopped in front of a hawker who stood on the +footway with a basketful of crawfish, crawling, pell-mell, at his feet. +They had certainly come from the sources of the Yeuse, three leagues +away. They were not large, but they were very tasty, for Rose herself had +occasionally caught some in the stream. And thus a greedy but also +playful fancy came to her. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, mamma!" she cried, "let us buy the whole basketful. It will be for +the feast of welcome, you see; it will be our present to the royal couple +we are awaiting. People won't say that Our Majesties neglect to do things +properly when they are expecting other Majesties. And I will cook them +when we get back, and you'll see how well I shall succeed." +</p> +<p> +At this the others began to poke fun at her, but her parents ended by +doing as she asked, big child as she was, who in the fulness of her +happiness hardly knew what amusement to seek. However, as by way of +pastime she obstinately sought to count the crawfish, quite an affair +ensued: some of them pinched her, and she dropped them with a little +shriek; and, amid it all, the basket fell over and then the crawfish +hurriedly crawled away. The boys and girls darted in pursuit of them, +there was quite a hunt, in which even the serious members of the family +at last took part. And what with the laughter and eagerness of one and +all, the big as well as the little, the whole happy brood, the sight was +so droll and gay that the folks of Janville again drew near and +good-naturedly took their share of the amusement. +</p> +<p> +All at once, however, arose a distant rumble of wheels and an engine +whistled. +</p> +<p> +"Ah, good Heavens! here they are!" cried Rose, quite scared; "quick, +quick, or the reception will be missed." +</p> +<p> +A scramble ensued, the owner of the crawfish was paid, and there was just +time to shut the basket and carry it to the wagon. The whole family was +already running off, invading the little station, and ranging itself in +good order along the arrival platform. +</p> +<p> +"No, no, not like that," Rose repeated. "You don't observe the right +order of precedence. The queen mother must be with the king her husband, +and then the princes according to their height. Frédéric must place +himself on my right. And it's for me, you know, to make the speech of +welcome." +</p> +<p> +The train stopped. When Ambroise and Andrée alighted they were at first +much surprised to find that everybody had come to meet them, drawn up in +a row with solemn mien. When Rose, however began to deliver a pompous +little speech, treating her brother's betrothed like some foreign +princess, whom she had orders to welcome in the name of the king, her +father, the young couple began to laugh, and even prolonged the joke by +responding in the same style. The railway men looked on and listened, +gaping. It was a fine farce, and the Froments were delighted at showing +themselves so playful on that warm May morning. +</p> +<p> +But Marianne suddenly raised an exclamation of surprise: "What! has not +Madame Séguin come with you? She gave me so many promises that she +would." +</p> +<p> +In the rear of Ambroise and Andrée Céleste the maid had alone alighted +from the train. And she undertook to explain things: "Madame charged me," +said she, "to say that she was really most grieved. Yesterday she still +hoped that she would be able to keep her promise. Only in the evening she +received a visit from Monsieur de Navarède, who is presiding to-day, +Sunday, at a meeting of his Society, and of course Madame could not do +otherwise than attend it. So she requested me to accompany the young +people, and everything is satisfactory, for here they are, you see." +</p> +<p> +As a matter of fact nobody regretted the absence of Valentine, who always +moped when she came into the country. And Mathieu expressed the general +opinion in a few words of polite regret: "Well, you must tell her how +much we shall miss her. And now let us be off." +</p> +<p> +Céleste, however, intervened once more. "Excuse me, monsieur, but I +cannot remain with you. No. Madame particularly told me to go back to her +at once, as she will need me to dress her. And, besides, she is always +bored when she is alone. There is a train for Paris at a quarter past +ten, is there not? I will go back by it. Then I will be here at eight +o'clock this evening to take Mademoiselle home. We settled all that in +looking through a time-table. Till this evening, monsieur." +</p> +<p> +"Till this evening, then, it's understood." +</p> +<p> +Thereupon, leaving the maid in the deserted little station, all the +others returned to the village square, where the wagon and the bicycles +were waiting. +</p> +<p> +"Now we are all assembled," exclaimed Rose, "and the real <i>fête</i> is +about to begin. Let me organize the procession for our triumphal return to +the castle of our ancestors." +</p> +<p> +"I am very much afraid that your procession will be soaked," said +Marianne. "Just look at the rain approaching!" +</p> +<p> +During the last few moments there had appeared in the hitherto spotless +sky a huge, livid cloud, rising from the west and urged along by a sudden +squall. It presaged a return of the violent stormy showers of the +previous night. +</p> +<p> +"Rain! Oh, we don't care about that," the girl responded with an air of +superb defiance. "It will never dare to come down before we get home." +</p> +<p> +Then, with a comical semblance of authority, she disposed her people in +the order which she had planned in her mind a week previously. And the +procession set off through the admiring village, amid the smiles of all +the good women hastening to their doorsteps, and then spread out along +the white road between the fertile fields, where bands of startled larks +took wing, carrying their clear song to the heavens. It was really +magnificent. +</p> +<p> +At the head of the party were Rose and Frédéric, side by side on their +bicycles, opening the nuptial march with majestic amplitude. Behind them +followed the three maids of honor, the younger sisters, Louise, +Madeleine, and Marguerite, the tallest first, the shortest last, and each +on a wheel proportioned to her growth. And with <i>bérets</i><a name="FNanchor_9_1" id="FNanchor_9_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_1" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> on their heads, +and their hair down their backs, waving in the breeze, they looked +adorable, suggesting a flight of messenger swallows skimming over the +ground and bearing good tidings onward. As for Grégoire the page, restive +and always ready to bolt, he did not behave very well; for he actually +tried to pass the royal couple at the head of the procession, a +proceeding which brought him various severe admonitions until he fell +back, as duty demanded, to his deferential and modest post. On the other +hand, as the three maids of honor began to sing the ballad of Cinderella +on her way to the palace of Prince Charming, the royal couple +condescendingly declared that the song was appropriate and of pleasing +effect, whatever might be the requirements of etiquette. Indeed, Rose, +Frédéric, and Grégoire also ended by singing the ballad, which rang out +amid the serene, far-spreading countryside like the finest music in the +world. +</p> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="nind"><a name="Footnote_9_1" id="Footnote_9_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_1"><span class="label">[9]</span></a>The <i>béret</i>: is the Pyreneean tam-o'-shanter.</p></div> + +<p> +Then, at a short distance in the rear, came the chariot, the good old +family wagon, which was now crowded. According to the prearranged +programme it was Gervais who held the ribbons, with Claire beside him. +The two strong horses trotted on in their usual leisurely fashion, in +spite of all the gay whip-cracking of their driver, who also wished to +contribute to the music. Inside there were now seven people for six +places, for if the three children were small, they were at the same time +so restless that they fully took up their share of room. First, face to +face, there were Ambroise and Andrée, the betrothed couple who were being +honored by this glorious welcome. Then, also face to face, there were the +high and mighty rulers of the region, Mathieu and Marianne, the latter of +whom kept little Nicolas, the last prince of the line, on her knees, he +braying the while like a little donkey, because he felt so pleased. Then +the last places were occupied by the rulers' granddaughter and grandson, +Mademoiselle Berthe and Monsieur Christophe, who were as yet unable to +walk long distances. And the chariot rolled on with much majesty, albeit +that for fear of the rain the curtains of stout white linen had already +been half-drawn, thus giving the vehicle, at a distance, somewhat of the +aspect of a miller's van. +</p> +<p> +Further back yet, as a sort of rear-guard, was a group on foot, composed +of Blaise, Denis, Madame Desvignes, and her daughters Charlotte and +Marthe. They had absolutely refused to take a fly, finding it more +pleasant to walk the mile and a half which separated Chantebled from +Janville. If the rain should fall, they would manage to find shelter +somewhere. Besides, Rose had declared that a suite on foot was absolutely +necessary to give the procession its full significance. Those five last +comers would represent the multitude, the great concourse of people which +follows sovereigns and acclaims them. Or else they might be the necessary +guard, the men-at-arms, who watched for the purpose of foiling a possible +attack from some felon neighbor. At the same time it unfortunately +happened that worthy Madame Desvignes could not walk very fast, so that +the rear-guard was soon distanced, to such a degree indeed that it became +merely a little lost group, far away. +</p> +<p> +Still this did not disconcert Rose, but rather made her laugh the more. +At the first bend of the road she turned her head, and when she saw her +rear-guard more than three hundred yards away she raised cries of +admiration. "Oh! just look, Frédéric! What an interminable procession! +What a deal of room we take up! The <i>cortège</i> is becoming longer and +longer, and the road won't be long enough for it very soon." +</p> +<p> +Then, as the three maids of honor and the page began to jeer +impertinently, "just try to be respectful," she said. "Count a little. +There are six of us forming the vanguard. In the chariot there are nine, +and six and nine make fifteen. Add to them the five of the rear-guard, +and we have twenty. Wherever else is such a family seen? Why, the rabbits +who watch us pass are mute with stupor and humiliation." +</p> +<p> +Then came another laugh, and once more they all took up the song of +Cinderella on her way to the palace of Prince Charming. +</p> +<p> +It was at the bridge over the Yeuse that the first drops of rain, big +drops they were, began to fall. The big livid cloud, urged on by a +terrible wind, was galloping across the sky, filling it with the clamor +of a tempest. And almost immediately afterwards the rain-drops increased +in volume and in number, lashed by so violent a squall that the water +poured down as if by the bucketful, or as if some huge sluice-gate had +suddenly burst asunder overhead. One could no longer see twenty yards +before one. In two minutes the road was running with water like the bed +of a torrent. +</p> +<p> +Then there was a <i>sauve-qui-peut</i> among the procession. It was learnt +later on that the people of the rear-guard had luckily been surprised +near a peasant's cottage, in which they had quietly sought refuge. Then +the folks in the wagon simply drew their curtains, and halted beneath the +shelter of a wayside tree for fear lest the horses should take fright +under such a downpour. They called to the bicyclists ahead of them to +stop also, instead of obstinately remaining in such a deluge. But their +words were lost amid the rush of water. However, the little girls and the +page took a proper course in crouching beside a thick hedge, though the +betrothed couple wildly continued on their way. +</p> +<p> +Frédéric, the more reasonable of the two, certainly had sense enough to +say: "This isn't prudent on our part. Let us stop like the others, I beg +you." +</p> +<p> +But from Rose, all excitement, transported by her blissful fever, and +insensible, so it seemed, to the pelting of the rain, he only drew this +answer: "Pooh! what does it matter, now that we are soaking? It is by +stopping that we might do ourselves harm. Let us make haste, all haste. +In three minutes we shall be at home and able to make fine sport of those +laggards when they arrive in another quarter of an hour." +</p> +<p> +They had just crossed the Yeuse bridge, and they swept on side by side, +although the road was far from easy, being a continual ascent for a +thousand yards or so between rows of lofty poplars. +</p> +<p> +"I assure you that we are doing wrong," the young man repeated. "They +will blame me, and they will be right." +</p> +<p> +"Oh! well," cried she, "I'm amusing myself. This bicycle bath is quite +funny. Leave me, then, if you don't love me enough to follow me." +</p> +<p> +He followed her, however, pressed close beside her, and sought to shelter +her a little from the slanting rain. And it was a wild, mad race on the +part of that young couple, almost linked together, their elbows touching +as they sped on and on, as if lifted from the ground, carried off by all +that rushing, howling water which poured down so ragefully. It was as +though a thunder-blast bore them along. But at the very moment when they +sprang from their bicycles in the yard of the farm the rain ceased, and +the sky became blue once more. +</p> +<p> +Rose was laughing like a lunatic, and looked very flushed, but she was +soaked to such a point that water streamed from her clothes, her hair, +her hands. You might have taken her for some fairy of the springs who had +overturned her urn on herself. +</p> +<p> +"Well, the <i>fête</i> is complete," she exclaimed breathlessly. "All the +same, we are the first home." +</p> +<p> +She then darted upstairs to comb her hair and change her gown. But to +gain just a few minutes, eager as she was to cook the crawfish, she did +not take the trouble to put on dry linen. She wished the pot to be on the +fire with the water, the white wine, the carrots and spices, before the +family arrived. And she came and went, attending to the fire and filling +the whole kitchen with her gay activity, like a good housewife who was +glad to display her accomplishments, while her betrothed, who had also +come downstairs again after changing his clothes, watched her with a kind +of religious admiration. +</p> +<p> +At last, when the whole family had arrived, the folks of the brake and +the pedestrians also, there came a rather sharp explanation. Mathieu and +Marianne were angry, so greatly had they been alarmed by that rush +through the storm. +</p> +<p> +"There was no sense in it, my girl," Marianne repeated. "Did you at least +change your linen?" +</p> +<p> +"Why yes, why yes!" replied Rose. "Where are the crawfish?" +</p> +<p> +Mathieu meantime was lecturing Frédéric. "You might have broken your +necks," said he; "and, besides, it is by no means good to get soaked with +cold water when one is hot. You ought to have stopped her." +</p> +<p> +"Well, she insisted on going on, and whenever she insists on anything, +you know, I haven't the strength to prevent her." +</p> +<p> +At last Rose, in her pretty way, put an end to the reproaches. "Come, +that's enough scolding; I did wrong, no doubt. But won't anybody +compliment me on my <i>court-bouillon</i>? Have you ever known crawfish to +smell as nice as that?" +</p> +<p> +The lunch was wonderfully gay. As they were twenty, and wished to have a +real rehearsal of the wedding feast, the table had been set in a large +gallery adjoining the ordinary dining-room. This gallery was still bare, +but throughout the meal they talked incessantly of how they would +embellish it with shrubs, garlands of foliage, and clumps of flowers. +During the dessert they even sent for a ladder with the view of +indicating on the walls the main lines of the decorations. +</p> +<p> +For a moment or so Rose, previously so talkative, had lapsed into +silence. She had eaten heartily, but all the color had left her face, +which had assumed a waxy pallor under her heavy hair, which was still +damp. And when she wished to ascend the ladder herself to indicate how +some ornament should be placed, her legs suddenly failed her, she +staggered, and then fainted away. +</p> +<p> +Everybody was in consternation, but she was promptly placed in a chair, +where for a few minutes longer she remained unconscious. Then, on coming +to her senses, she remained for a moment silent, oppressed as by a +feeling of pain, and apparently failing to understand what had taken +place. Mathieu and Marianne, terribly upset, pressed her with questions, +anxious as they were to know if she felt better. She had evidently caught +cold, and this was the fine result of her foolish ride. +</p> +<p> +By degrees the girl recovered her composure, and again smiled. She then +explained that she now felt no pain, but that it had suddenly seemed to +her as if a heavy paving-stone were lying on her chest; then this weight +had melted away, leaving her better able to breathe. And, indeed, she was +soon on her feet once more, and finished giving her views respecting the +decoration of the gallery, in such wise that the others ended by feeling +reassured, and the afternoon passed away joyously in the making of all +sorts of splendid plans. Little was eaten at dinner, for they had done +too much honor to the crawfish at noon. And at nine o'clock, as soon as +Céleste arrived for Andrée, the gathering broke up. Ambroise was +returning to Paris that same evening. Blaise and Denis were to take the +seven o'clock train the following morning. And Rose, after accompanying +Madame Desvignes and her daughters to the road, called to them through +the darkness: "<i>Au revoir</i>, come back soon." She was again full of +gayety at the thought of the general rendezvous which the family had +arranged for the approaching weddings. +</p> +<p> +Neither Mathieu nor Marianne went to bed at once, however. Though they +did not even speak of it together, they thought that Rose looked very +strange, as if, indeed, she were intoxicated. She had again staggered on +returning to the house, and though she only complained of some slight +oppression, they prevailed on her to go to bed. After she had retired to +her room, which adjoined their own, Marianne went several times to see if +she were well wrapped up and were sleeping peacefully, while Mathieu +remained anxiously thoughtful beside the lamp. At last the girl fell +asleep, and the parents, leaving the door of communication open, then +exchanged a few words in an undertone, in their desire to tranquillize +each other. It would surely be nothing; a good night's rest would suffice +to restore Rose to her wonted health. Then in their turn they went to +bed, the whole farm lapsed into silence, surrendering itself to slumber +until the first cockcrow. But all at once, about four o'clock, shortly +before daybreak, a stifled call, "Mamma! mamma!" awoke both Mathieu and +Marianne, and they sprang out of bed, barefooted, shivering, and groping +for the candle. Rose was again stifling, struggling against another +attack of extreme violence. For the second time, however, she soon +regained consciousness and appeared relieved, and thus the parents, great +as was their distress, preferred to summon nobody but to wait till +daylight. Their alarm was caused particularly by the great change they +noticed in their daughter's appearance; her face was swollen and +distorted, as if some evil power had transformed her in the night. But +she fell asleep again, in a state of great prostration; and they no +longer stirred for fear of disturbing her slumber. They remained there +watching and waiting, listening to the revival of life in the farm around +them as the daylight gradually increased. Time went by; five and then six +o'clock struck. And at about twenty minutes to seven Mathieu, on looking +into the yard, and there catching sight of Denis, who was to return to +Paris by the seven o'clock train, hastened down to tell him to call upon +Boutan and beg the doctor to come at once. Then, as soon as his son had +started, he rejoined Marianne upstairs, still unwilling to call or warn +anybody. But a third attack followed, and this time it was the +thunderbolt. +</p> +<p> +Rose had half risen in bed, her arms thrown out, her mouth distended as +she gasped "Mamma! mamma!" +</p> +<p> +Then in a sudden fit of revolt, a last flash of life, she sprang from her +bed and stepped towards the window, whose panes were all aglow with the +rising sun. And for a moment she leant there, her legs bare, her +shoulders bare, and her heavy hair falling over her like a royal mantle. +Never had she looked more beautiful, more dazzling, full of strength and +love. +</p> +<p> +But she murmured: "Oh! how I suffer! It is all over, I am going to die." +</p> +<p> +Her father darted towards her; her mother sustained her, throwing her +arms around her like invincible armor which would shield her from all +harm. +</p> +<p> +"Don't talk like that, you unhappy girl! It is nothing; it is only +another attack which will pass away. Get into bed again, for mercy's +sake. Your old friend Boutan is on his way here. You will be up and well +again to-morrow." +</p> +<p> +"No, no, I am going to die; it is all over." +</p> +<p> +She fell back in their arms; they only had time to lay her on her bed. +And the thunderbolt fell: without a word, without a glance, in a few +minutes she died of congestion of the lungs. +</p> +<p> +Ah! the imbecile thunderbolt! Ah! the scythe, which with a single stroke +blindly cuts down a whole springtide! It was all so brutally sudden, so +utterly unexpected, that at first the stupefaction of Marianne and +Mathieu was greater than their despair. In response to their cries the +whole farm hastened up, the fearful news filled the place, and then all +sank into the deep silence of death—all work, all life ceasing. And +the other children were there, scared and overcome: little Nicolas, who did +not yet understand things; Grégoire, the page of the previous day; +Louise, Madeleine, and Marguerite, the three maids of honor, and their +elders, Claire and Gervais, who felt the blow more deeply. And there were +yet the others journeying away, Blaise, Denis, and Ambroise, travelling +to Paris at that very moment, in ignorance of the unforeseen, frightful +hatchet-stroke which had fallen on the family. Where would the terrible +tidings reach them? In what cruel distress would they return! And the +doctor who would soon arrive too! But all at once, amid the terror and +confusion, there rang out the cries of Frédéric, the poor dead girl's +affianced lover. He shrieked his despair aloud, he was half mad, he +wished to kill himself, saying that he was the murderer and that he ought +to have prevented Rose from so rashly riding home through the storm! He +had to be led away and watched for fear of some fresh misfortune. His +sudden frenzy had gone to every heart; sobs burst forth and lamentations +arose from the woful parents, from the brothers, the sisters, from the +whole of stricken Chantebled, which death thus visited for the first +time. +</p> +<p> +Ah, God! Rose on that bed of mourning, white, cold, and dead! She, the +fairest, the gayest, the most loved! She, before whom all the others +were ever in admiration—she of whom they were so proud, so fond! +And to think that this blow should fall in the midst of hope, bright +hope in long life and sterling happiness, but ten days before her +wedding, and on the morrow of that day of wild gayety, all jests and +laughter! They could again see her, full of life and so adorable with +her happy youthful fancies—that princely reception and that royal +procession. It had seemed as if those two coming weddings, celebrated +the same day, would be like the supreme florescence of the family's long +happiness and prosperity. Doubtless they had often experienced trouble +and had even wept at times, but they had drawn closer together and +consoled one another on such occasions; none had ever been cut off from +the good-night embraces which healed every sore. And now the best was +gone, death had come to say that absolute joy existed for none, that the +most valiant, the happiest; never reaped the fulness of their hopes. +There was no life without death. And they paid their share of the debt +of human wretchedness, paid it the more dearly since they had made for +themselves a larger sum of life. When everything germinates and grows +around one, when one has determined on unreserved fruitfulness; on +continuous creation and increase, how awful is the recall to the +ever-present dim abyss in which the world is fashioned, on the day when +misfortune falls, digs its first pit, and carries off a loved one! It is +like a sudden snapping, a rending of the hopes which seemed to be +endless, and a feeling of stupefaction comes at the discovery that one +cannot live and love forever! +</p> +<p> +Ah! how terrible were the two days that followed: the farm itself +lifeless, without sound save that of the breathing of the cattle, the +whole family gathered together, overcome by the cruel spell of waiting, +ever in tears while the poor corpse remained there under a harvest of +flowers. And there was this cruel aggravation, that on the eve of the +funeral, when the body had been laid in the coffin, it was brought down +into that gallery where they had lunched so merrily while discussing how +magnificently they might decorate it for the two weddings. It was there +that the last funeral watch, the last wake, took place, and there were no +evergreen shrubs, no garlands of foliage, merely four tapers which burnt +there amid a wealth of white roses gathered in the morning, but already +fading. Neither the mother nor the father was willing to go to bed that +night. They remained, side by side, near the child whom mother-earth was +taking back from them. They could see her quite little again, but sixteen +months old, at the time of their first sojourn at Chantebled in the old +tumbledown shooting-box, when she had just been weaned and they were wont +to go and cover her up at nighttime. They saw her also, later on, in +Paris, hastening to them in the morning, climbing up and pulling their +bed to pieces with triumphant laughter. And they saw her yet more +clearly, growing and becoming more beautiful even as Chantebled did, as +if, indeed, she herself bloomed with all the health and beauty of that +now fruitful land. Yet she was no more, and whenever the thought returned +to them that they would never see her again, their hands sought one +another, met in a woful clasp, while from their crushed and mingling +hearts it seemed as if all life, all future, were flowing away to +nihility. Now that a breach had been made, would not every other +happiness be carried off in turn? And though the ten other children were +there, from the little one five years old to the twins who were +four-and-twenty, all clad in black, all gathered in tears around their +sleeping sister, like a sorrow-stricken battalion rendering funeral +honors, neither the father nor the mother saw or counted them: their +hearts were rent by the loss of the daughter who had departed, carrying +away with her some of their own flesh. And in that long bare gallery +which the four candles scarcely lighted, the dawn at last arose upon that +death watch, that last leave-taking. +</p> +<p> +Then grief again came with the funeral procession, which spread out +along the white road between the lofty poplars and the green corn, that +road over which Rose had galloped so madly through the storm. All the +relations of the Froments, all their friends, all the district, had come +to pay a tribute of emotion at so sudden and swift a death. Thus, this +time, the <i>cortège</i> did stretch far away behind the hearse, draped +with white and blooming with white roses in the bright sunshine. The +whole family was present; the mother and the sisters had declared that +they would only quit their loved one when she had been lowered into her +last resting-place. And after the family came the friends, the +Beauchênes, the Séguins, and others. But Mathieu and Marianne, worn +out, overcome by suffering, no longer recognized people amid their +tears. They only remembered on the morrow that they must have seen +Morange, if indeed it were really Morange—that silent, +unobtrusive, almost shadowy gentleman, who had wept while pressing their +hands. And in like fashion Mathieu fancied that, in some horrible dream, +he had seen Constance's spare figure and bony profile drawing near to +him in the cemetery after the coffin had been lowered into the grave, +and addressing vague words of consolation to him, though he fancied that +her eyes flashed the while as if with abominable exultation. +</p> +<p> +What was it that she had said? He no longer knew. Of course her words +must have been appropriate, even as her demeanor was that of a mourning +relative. But a memory returned to him, that of other words which she had +spoken when promising to attend the two weddings. She had then in bitter +fashion expressed a wish that the good fortune of Chantebled might +continue. But they, the Froments, so fruitful and so prosperous, were now +stricken in their turn, and their good fortune had perhaps departed +forever! Mathieu shuddered; his faith in the future was shaken; he was +haunted by a fear of seeing prosperity and fruitfulness vanish, now that +there was that open breach. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="XVII">XVII</a></h4> + +<p> +A YEAR later the first child born to Ambroise and Andrée, a boy, little +Léonce, was christened. The young people had been married very quietly +six weeks after the death of Rose. And that christening was to be the +first outing for Mathieu and Marianne, who had not yet fully recovered +from the terrible shock of their eldest daughter's death. Moreover, it +was arranged that after the ceremony there should simply be a lunch at +the parents' home, and that one and all should afterwards be free to +return to his or her avocations. It was impossible for the whole family +to come, and, indeed, apart from the grandfather and grandmother, only +the twins, Denis and Blaise, and the latter's wife Charlotte, were +expected, together with the godparents. Beauchêne, the godfather, had +selected Madame Séguin as his <i>commère</i>, for, since the death of +Maurice, Constance shuddered at the bare thought of touching a child. At +the same time she had promised to be present at the lunch, and thus +there would be ten of them, sufficient to fill the little dining-room of +the modest flat in the Rue de La Boëtie, where the young couple resided +pending fortune's arrival. +</p> +<p> +It was a very pleasant morning. Although Mathieu and Marianne had been +unwilling to set aside their black garments even for this rejoicing, they +ended by evincing some gentle gayety before the cradle of that little +grandson, whose advent brought them a renewal of hope. Early in the +winter a fresh bereavement had fallen on the family; Blaise had lost his +little Christophe, then two and a half years old, through an attack of +croup. Charlotte, however, was already at that time again <i>enceinte</i>, +and thus the grief of the first days had turned to expectancy fraught with +emotion. +</p> +<p> +The little flat in the Rue de La Boëtie seemed very bright and fragrant; +it was perfumed by the fair grace of Andrée and illumined by the +victorious charm of Ambroise, that handsome loving couple who, arm in +arm, had set out so bravely to conquer the world. During the lunch, too, +there was the formidable appetite and jovial laughter of Beauchêne, who +gave the greatest attention to his <i>commère</i> Valentine, jesting and +paying her the most extravagant court, which afforded her much amusement, +prone as she still was to play a girlish part, though she was already +forty-five and a grandmother like Marianne. Constance alone remained +grave, scarce condescending to bend her thin lips into a faint smile, +while a shadow of deep pain passed over her withered face every time that +she glanced round that gay table, whence new strength, based on the +invincible future, arose in spite of all the recent mourning. +</p> +<p> +At about three o'clock Blaise rose from the table, refusing to allow +Beauchêne to take any more Chartreuse. +</p> +<p> +"It's true, he is right, my children," Beauchêne ended by exclaiming in a +docile way. "We are very comfortable here, but it is absolutely necessary +that we should return to the works. And we must deprive you of Denis, for +we need his help over a big building affair. That's how we are, we +others, we don't shirk duty." +</p> +<p> +Constance had also risen. "The carriage must be waiting," said she; "will +you take it?" +</p> +<p> +"No, no, we will go on foot. A walk will clear our heads." +</p> +<p> +The sky was overcast, and as it grew darker and darker Ambroise, going to +the window, exclaimed: "You will get wet." +</p> +<p> +"Oh! the rain has been threatening ever since this morning, but we shall +have time to get to the works." +</p> +<p> +It was then understood that Constance should take Charlotte with her in +the brougham and set her down at the door of the little pavilion +adjoining the factory. As for Valentine, she was in no hurry and could +quietly return to the Avenue d'Antin, which was close by, as soon as the +sky might clear. And with regard to Marianne and Mathieu, they had just +yielded to Andrée's affectionate entreaties, and had arranged to spend +the whole day and dine there, returning to Chantebled by the last train. +Thus the <i>fête</i> would be complete, and the young couple were +enraptured at the prospect. +</p> +<p> +The departure of the others was enlivened by a curious incident, a +mistake which Constance made, and which seemed very comical amid all the +mirth promoted by the copious lunch. She had turned towards Denis, and, +looking at him with her pale eyes, she quietly asked him "Blaise, my +friend, will you give me my boa? I must have left it in the ante-room." +</p> +<p> +Everybody began to laugh, but she failed to understand the reason. And it +was in the same tranquil way as before that she thanked Denis when he +brought her the boa: "I am obliged to you, Blaise; you are very amiable." +</p> +<p> +Thereupon came an explosion; the others almost choked with laughter, so +droll did her quiet assurance seem to them. What was the matter, then? +Why did they all laugh at her in that fashion? She ended by suspecting +that she had made a mistake, and looked more attentively at the twins. +</p> +<p> +"Ah, yes, it isn't Blaise, but Denis! But it can't be helped. I am always +mistaking them since they have worn their beards trimmed in the same +fashion." +</p> +<p> +Thereupon Marianne, in her obliging way, in order to take any sting away +from the laughter, repeated the well-known family story of how she +herself, when the twins were children and slept together, had been wont +to awake them in order to identify them by the different color of their +eyes. The others, Beauchêne and Valentine, then intervened and recalled +circumstances under which they also had mistaken the twins one for the +other, so perfect was their resemblance on certain occasions, in certain +lights. And it was amid all this gay animation that the company separated +after exchanging all sorts of embraces and handshakes. +</p> +<p> +Once in the brougham, Constance spoke but seldom to Charlotte, taking as +a pretext a violent headache which the prolonged lunch had increased. +With a weary air and her eyes half closed she began to reflect. After +Rose's death, and when little Christophe likewise had been carried off, a +revival of hope had come to her, for all at once she had felt quite young +again. But when she consulted Boutan on the matter he dealt her a final +blow by informing her that her hopes were quite illusive. Thus, for two +months now, her rage and despair had been increasing. That very morning +at that christening, and now in that carriage beside that young woman who +was again expecting to become a mother, it was this which poisoned her +mind, filled her with jealousy and spite, and rendered her capable of any +evil deed. The loss of her son, the childlessness to which she was +condemned, all threw her into a state of morbid perversity, fraught with +dreams of some monstrous vengeance which she dared not even confess to +herself. She accused the whole world of being in league to crush her. Her +husband was the most cowardly and idiotic of traitors, for he betrayed +her by letting some fresh part of the works pass day by day into the +hands of that fellow Blaise, whose wife no sooner lost a child than she +had another. She, Constance, was enraged also at seeing her husband so +gay and happy, since she had left him to his own base courses. He still +retained his air of victorious superiority, declaring that he had +remained unchanged, and there was truth in this; for though, instead of +being an active master as formerly, he now too often showed himself a +senile prowler, on the high road to paralysis, he yet continued to be a +practical egotist, one who drew from life the greatest sum of enjoyment +possible. He was following his destined road, and if he took to Blaise it +was simply because he was delighted to have found an intelligent, +hard-working young man who spared him all the cares and worries that were +too heavy for his weary shoulders, while still earning for him the money +which he needed for his pleasures. Constance knew that something in the +way of a partnership arrangement was about to be concluded. Indeed, her +husband must have already received a large sum to enable him to make good +certain losses and expenses which he had hidden from her. And closing her +eyes as the brougham rolled along, she poisoned her mind by ruminating +all these things, scarce able to refrain from venting her fury by +throwing herself upon that young woman Charlotte, well-loved and fruitful +spouse, who sat beside her. +</p> +<p> +Then the thought of Denis occurred to her. Why was he being taken to the +works? Did he also mean to rob her? Yet she knew that he had refused to +join his brother, as in his opinion there was not room for two at the +establishment of the Boulevard de Grenelle. Indeed, Denis's ambition was +to direct some huge works by himself; he possessed an extensive knowledge +of mechanics, and this it was that rendered him a valuable adviser +whenever a new model of some important agricultural machine had to be +prepared at the Beauchêne factory. Constance promptly dismissed him from +her thoughts; in her estimation there was no reason to fear him; he was a +mere passer-by, who on the morrow, perhaps, would establish himself at +the other end of France. Then once more the thought of Blaise came back +to her, imperative, all-absorbing; and it suddenly occurred to her that +if she made haste home she would be able to see Morange alone in his +office and ascertain many things from him before the others arrived. It +was evident that the accountant must know something of the partnership +scheme, even if it were as yet only in a preliminary stage. Thereupon she +became impassioned, eager to arrive, certain as she felt of obtaining +confidential information from Morange, whom she deemed to be devoted to +her. +</p> +<p> +As the carriage rolled over the Jena bridge she opened her eyes and +looked out. "<i>Mon Dieu</i>!" said she, "what a time this brougham takes! +If the rain would only fall it would, perhaps, relieve my head a little." +</p> +<p> +She was thinking, however, that a sharp shower would give her more time, +as it would compel the three men, Beauchêne, Denis, and Blaise, to seek +shelter in some doorway. And when the carriage reached the works she +hastily stopped the coachman, without even conducting her companion to +the little pavilion. +</p> +<p> +"You will excuse me, won't you, my dear?" said she; "you only have to +turn the street corner." +</p> +<p> +When they had both alighted, Charlotte, smiling and affectionate, took +hold of Constance's hand and retained it for a few moments in her own. +</p> +<p> +"Of course," she replied, "and many thanks. You are too kind. When you +see my husband, pray tell him that you left me safe, for he grows anxious +at the slightest thing." +</p> +<p> +Thereupon Constance in her turn had to smile and promise with many +professions of friendship that she would duly execute the commission. +Then they parted. "<i>Au revoir</i>, till to-morrow "—"Yes, yes, till +to-morrow, <i>au revoir</i>." +</p> +<p> +Eighteen years had now already elapsed since Morange had lost his wife +Valérie; and nine had gone by since the death of his daughter Reine. Yet +it always seemed as if he were on the morrow of those disasters, for he +had retained his black garb, and still led a cloister-like, retired life, +giving utterance only to such words as were indispensable. On the other +hand, he had again become a good model clerk, a correct painstaking +accountant, very punctual in his habits, and rooted as it were to the +office chair in which he had taken his seat every morning for thirty +years past. The truth was that his wife and his daughter had carried off +with them all his will-power, all his ambitious thoughts, all that he had +momentarily dreamt of winning for their sakes—a large fortune and a +luxurious triumphant life. He, who was now so much alone, who had +relapsed into childish timidity and weakness, sought nothing beyond his +humble daily task, and was content to die in the shady corner to which he +was accustomed. It was suspected, however, that he led a mysterious +maniacal life, tinged with anxious jealousy, at home, in that flat of the +Boulevard de Grenelle which he had so obstinately refused to quit. His +servant had orders to admit nobody, and she herself knew nothing. If he +gave her free admittance to the dining- and drawing-rooms, he did not +allow her to set foot in his own bedroom, formerly shared by Valérie, nor +in that which Reine had occupied. He himself alone entered these +chambers, which he regarded as sanctuaries, of which he was the sole +priest. Under pretence of sweeping or dusting, he would shut himself up +in one or the other of them for hours at a time. It was in vain that the +servant tried to glance inside, in vain that she listened at the doors +when he spent his holidays at home; she saw nothing and heard nothing. +Nobody could have told what relics those chapels contained, nor with what +religious cult he honored them. Another cause of surprise was his +niggardly, avaricious life, which, as time went on, had become more and +more pronounced, in such wise that his only expenses were his rental of +sixteen hundred francs, the wages he paid to his servant, and the few +pence per day which she with difficulty extracted from him to defray the +cost of food and housekeeping. His salary had now risen to eight thousand +francs a year, and he certainly did not spend half of it. What became, +then, of his big savings, the money which he refused to devote to +enjoyment? In what secret hole, and for what purpose, what secret +passion, did he conceal it? Nobody could tell. But amid it all he +remained very gentle, and, unlike most misers, continued very cleanly in +his habits, keeping his beard, which was now white as snow, very +carefully tended. And he came to his office every morning with a little +smile on his face, in such wise that nothing in this man of regular +methodical life revealed the collapse within him, all the ashes and +smoldering fire which disaster had left in his heart. +</p> +<p> +By degrees a link of some intimacy had been formed between Constance and +Morange. When, after his daughter's death, she had seen him return to the +works quite a wreck, she had been stirred by deep pity, with which some +covert personal anxiety confusedly mingled. Maurice was destined to live +five years longer, but she was already haunted by apprehensions, and +could never meet Morange without experiencing a chilling shudder, for he, +as she repeated to herself, had lost his only child. "Ah, God! so such a +catastrophe was possible." Then, on being stricken herself, on +experiencing the horrible distress, on smarting from the sudden, gaping, +incurable wound of her bereavement, she had drawn nearer to that brother +in misfortune, treating him with a kindness which she showed to none +other. At times she would invite him to spend an evening with her, and +the pair of them would chat together, or more often remain silent, face +to face, sharing each other's woe. Later on she had profited by this +intimacy to obtain information from Morange respecting affairs at the +factory, of which her husband avoided speaking. It was more particularly +since she had suspected the latter of bad management, blunders and debts, +that she endeavored to turn the accountant into a confidant, even a spy, +who might aid her to secure as much control of the business as possible. +And this was why she was so anxious to return to the factory that day, +and profit by the opportunity to see Morange privately, persuaded as she +was that she would induce him to speak out in the absence of his +superiors. +</p> +<p> +She scarcely tarried to take off her gloves and her bonnet. She found the +accountant in his little office, seated in his wonted place, and leaning +over the everlasting ledger which was open before him. +</p> +<p> +"Why, is the christening finished?" he exclaimed in astonishment. +</p> +<p> +Forthwith she explained her presence in such a way as to enable her to +speak of what she had at heart. "Why, yes. That is to say, I came away +because I had such a dreadful headache. The others have remained yonder. +And as we are alone here together it occurred to me that it might do me +good to have a chat with you. You know how highly I esteem you. Ah! I am +not happy, not happy at all." +</p> +<p> +She had sunk upon a chair overcome by the tears which she had been +restraining so long in the presence of the happiness of others. Quite +upset at seeing her in this condition, having little strength himself, +Morange wished to summon her maid. He almost feared that she might have a +fainting fit. But she prevented him. +</p> +<p> +"I have only you left me, my friend," said she. "Everybody else forsakes +me, everybody is against me. I can feel it; I am being ruined; folks are +bent on annihilating me, as if I had not already lost everything when I +lost my child. And since you alone remain to me, you who know my +torments, you who have no daughter left you, pray for heaven's sake help +me and tell me the truth! In that wise I shall at least be able to defend +myself." +</p> +<p> +On hearing her speak of his daughter Morange also had begun to weep. And +now, therefore, she might question him, it was certain that he would +answer and tell her everything, overpowered as he was by the common +grief which she had evoked. Thus he informed her that an agreement was +indeed on the point of being signed by Blaise and Beauchêne, only it +was not precisely a deed of partnership. Beauchêne having drawn large +sums from the strong-box of the establishment for expenses which he +could not confess—a horrible story of blackmailing, so it was +rumored—had been obliged to make a confidant of Blaise, the trusty +and active lieutenant who managed the establishment. And he had even +asked him to find somebody willing to lend him some money. Thereupon the +young man had offered it himself; but doubtless it was his father, +Mathieu Froment, who advanced the cash, well pleased to invest it in the +works in his son's name. And now, with the view of putting everything in +order, it had been resolved that the property should be divided into six +parts, and that one of these parts or shares should be attributed to +Blaise as reimbursement for the loan. Thus the young fellow would +possess an interest of one sixth in the establishment, unless indeed +Beauchêne should buy him out again within a stipulated period. The +danger was that, instead of freeing himself in this fashion, Beauchêne +might yield to the temptation of selling the other parts one by one, now +that he was gliding down a path of folly and extravagance. +</p> +<p> +Constance listened to Morange, quivering and quite pale. "Is this +signed?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +"No, not yet. But the papers are ready and will be signed shortly. +Moreover, it is a reasonable and necessary solution of the difficulty." +</p> +<p> +She was evidently of another opinion. A feeling of revolt possessed her, +and she strove to think of some decisive means of preventing the ruin and +shame which in her opinion threatened her. "My God, what am I to do? How +can I act?" she gasped; and then, in her rage at finding no device, at +being powerless, this cry escaped her: "Ah! that scoundrel Blaise!" +</p> +<p> +Worthy Morange was quite moved by it. Still he had not fully understood. +And so, in his quiet way, he endeavored to calm Constance, explaining +that Blaise had a very good heart, and that in the circumstances in +question he had behaved in the best way possible, doing all that he could +to stifle scandal, and even displaying great disinterestedness. And as +Constance had risen, satisfied with knowing the truth, and anxious that +the three men might not find her there on their arrival, the accountant +likewise quitted his chair, and accompanied her along the gallery which +she had to follow in order to return to her house. +</p> +<p> +"I give you my word of honor, madame," said Morange, "that the young man +has made no base calculations in the matter. All the papers pass through +my hands, and nobody could know more than I know myself. Besides, if I +had entertained the slightest doubt of any machination, I should have +endeavored to requite your kindness by warning you." +</p> +<p> +She no longer listened to him, however; in fact, she was anxious to get +rid of him, for all at once the long-threatening rain had begun to fall +violently, lashing the glass roof. So dark a mass of clouds had +overspread the sky that it was almost night in the gallery, though four +o'clock had scarcely struck. And it occurred to Constance that in +presence of such a deluge the three men would certainly take a cab. So +she hastened her steps, still followed, however, by the accountant. +</p> +<p> +"For instance," he continued, "when it was a question of drawing up the +agreement—" +</p> +<p> +But he suddenly paused, gave vent to a hoarse exclamation, and stopped +her, pulling her back as if in terror. +</p> +<p> +"Take care!" he gasped. +</p> +<p> +There was a great cavity before them. Here, at the end of the gallery, +before reaching the corridor which communicated with the private house, +there was a steam lift of great power, which was principally used for +lowering heavy articles to the packing room. It only worked as a rule on +certain days; on all others the huge trap remained closed. When the +appliance was working a watchman was always stationed there to +superintend the operations. +</p> +<p> +"Take care! take care!" Morange repeated, shuddering with terror. +</p> +<p> +The trap was open, and the huge cavity gaped before them; there was no +barrier, nothing to warn them and prevent them from making a fearful +plunge. The rain still pelted on the glass roof, and the darkness had +become so complete in the gallery that they had walked on without seeing +anything before them. Another step would have hurled them to destruction. +It was little short of miraculous that the accountant should have become +anxious in presence of the increasing gloom in that corner, where he had +divined rather than perceived the abyss. +</p> +<p> +Constance, however, still failing to understand her companion, sought to +free herself from his wild grasp. +</p> +<p> +"But look!" he cried. +</p> +<p> +And he bent forward and compelled her also to stoop over the cavity. It +descended through three floors to the very lowest basement, like a well +of darkness. A damp odor arose: one could scarce distinguish the vague +outlines of thick ironwork; alone, right at the bottom, burnt a lantern, +a distant speck of light, as if the better to indicate the depth and +horror of the gulf. Morange and Constance drew back again blanching. +</p> +<p> +And now Morange burst into a temper. "It is idiotic!" he exclaimed. "Why +don't they obey the regulations! As a rule there is a man here, a man +expressly told off for this duty, who ought not to stir from his post so +long as the trap has not come up again. Where is he? What on earth can +the rascal be up to?" +</p> +<p> +The accountant again approached the hole, and shouted down it in a fury: +"Bonnard!" +</p> +<p> +No reply came: the pit remained bottomless, black and void. +</p> +<p> +"Bonnard! Bonnard!" +</p> +<p> +And still nothing was heard, not a sound; the damp breath of the darkness +alone ascended as from the deep silence of the tomb. +</p> +<p> +Thereupon Morange resorted to action. "I must go down; I must find +Bonnard. Can you picture us falling through that hole to the very bottom? +No, no, this cannot be allowed. Either he must close this trap or return +to his post. What can he be doing? Where can he be?" +</p> +<p> +Morange had already betaken himself to a little winding staircase, by +which one reached every floor beside the lift, when in a voice which +gradually grew more indistinct, he again called: "I beg you, madame, pray +wait for me; remain there to warn anybody who might pass." +</p> +<p> +Constance was alone. The dull rattle of the rain on the glass above her +continued, but a little livid light was appearing as a gust of wind +carried off the clouds. And in that pale light Blaise suddenly appeared +at the end of the gallery. He had just returned to the factory with Denis +and Beauchêne, and had left his companions together for a moment, in +order to go to the workshops to procure some information they required. +Preoccupied, absorbed once more in his work, he came along with an easy +step, his head somewhat bent. And when Constance saw him thus appear, all +that she felt in her heart was the smart of rancor, a renewal of her +anger at what she had learnt of that agreement which was to be signed on +the morrow and which would despoil her. That enemy who was in her home +and worked against her, a revolt of her whole being urged her to +exterminate him, and thrust him out like some usurper, all craft and +falsehood. +</p> +<p> +He drew nearer. She was in the dense shadow near the wall, so that he +could not see her. But on her side, as he softly approached steeped in a +grayish light, she could see him with singular distinctness. Never before +had she so plainly divined the power of his lofty brow, the intelligence +of his eyes, the firm will of his mouth. And all at once she was struck +with fulgural certainty; he was coming towards the cavity without seeing +it and he would assuredly plunge into the depths unless she should stop +him as he passed. But a little while before, she, like himself, had come +from yonder, and would have fallen unless a friendly hand had restrained +her; and the frightful shudder of that moment yet palpitated in her +veins; she could still and ever see the damp black pit with the little +lantern far below. The whole horror of it flashed before her eyes—the +ground failing one, the sudden drop with a great shriek, and the smash a +moment afterwards. +</p> +<p> +Blaise drew yet nearer. But certainly such a thing was impossible; she +would prevent it, since a little motion of her hand would suffice. Would +she not always have time to stretch out her arms when he was there before +her? And yet from the recesses of her being a very clear and frigid voice +seemed to ascend, articulating brief words which rang in her ears as if +repeated by a trumpet blast. If he should die it would be all over, the +factory would never belong to him. She who had bitterly lamented that she +could devise no obstacle had merely to let this helpful chance take its +own course. And this, indeed, was what the voice said, what it repeated +with keen insistence, never adding another syllable. After that there +would be nothing. After that there would merely remain the shattered +remnants of a suppressed man, and a pit of darkness splashed with blood, +in which she discerned, foresaw nothing more. What would happen on the +morrow? She did not wish to know; indeed there would be no morrow. It was +solely the brutal immediate fact which the imperious voice demanded. He +dead, it would be all over, he would never possess the works. +</p> +<p> +He drew nearer still. And within her now there raged a frightful battle. +How long did it last—days? years? Doubtless but a few seconds. She +was still resolved that she would stop him as he passed, certain as she +felt that she would conquer her horrible thoughts when the moment came +for the decisive gesture. And yet those thoughts invaded her, became +materialized within her, like some physical craving, thirst or hunger. +She hungered for that finish, hungered to the point of suffering, seized +by one of those sudden desperate longings which beget crime; such as +when a passer-by is despoiled and throttled at the corner of a street. +It seemed to her that if she could not satisfy her craving she herself +must lose her life. A consuming passion, a mad desire for that man's +annihilation filled her as she saw him approach. She could now see him +still more plainly and the sight of him exasperated her. His forehead, +his eyes, his lips tortured her like some hateful spectacle. Another +step, yet one more, then another, and he would be before her. Yes, yet +another step, and she was already stretching out her hand in readiness +to stop him as soon as he should brush past. +</p> +<p> +He came along. What was it that happened? O God! When he was there, so +absorbed in his thoughts that he brushed against her without feeling her, +she turned to stone. Her hand became icy cold, she could not lift it, it +hung too heavily from her arm. And amid her scorching fever a great cold +shudder came upon her, immobilizing and stupefying her, while she was +deafened by the clamorous voice rising from the depths of her being. All +demur was swept away; the craving for that death remained intense, +invincible, beneath the imperious stubborn call of the inner voice which +robbed her of the power of will and action. He would be dead and he would +never possess the works. And therefore, standing stiff and breathless +against the wall, she did not stop him. She could hear his light +breathing, she could discern his profile, then the nape of his neck. He +had passed. Another step, another step! And yet if she had raised a call +she might still have changed the course of destiny even at that last +moment. She fancied that she had some such intention, but she was +clenching her teeth tightly enough to break them. And he, Blaise, took +yet a further step, still advancing quietly and confidently over that +friendly ground, without even a glance before him, absorbed as he was in +thoughts of his work. And the ground failed him, and there was a loud, +terrible cry, a sudden gust following the fall, and a dull crash down +below in the depths of the black darkness. +</p> +<p> +Constance did not stir. For a moment she remained as if petrified, still +listening, still waiting. But only deep silence arose from the abyss. She +could merely hear the rain pelting on the glass roof with renewed rage. +And thereupon she fled, turned into the passage, re-entered her +drawing-room. There she collected and questioned herself. Had she desired +that abominable thing? No, her will had had nought to do with it. Most +certainly it had been paralyzed, prevented from acting. If it had been +possible for the thing to occur, it had occurred quite apart from her, +for assuredly she had been absent. Absent, that word reassured her. Yes, +indeed, that was the case, she had been absent. All her past life spread +out behind her, faultless, pure of any evil action. Never had she sinned, +never until that day had any consciousness of guilt weighed upon her +conscience. An honest and virtuous woman, she had remained upright amidst +all the excesses of her husband. An impassioned mother, she had been +ascending her calvary ever since her son's death. And this recollection +of Maurice alone drew her for a moment from her callousness, choked her +with a rising sob, as if in that direction lay her madness, the vainly +sought explanation of the crime. Vertigo again fell upon her, the thought +of her dead son and of the other being master in his place, all her +perverted passion for that only son of hers, the despoiled prince, all +her poisoned, fermenting rage which had unhinged and maddened her, even +to the point of murder. Had that monstrous vegetation growing within her +reached her brain then? A rush of blood suffices at times to bedim a +conscience. But she obstinately clung to the view that she had been +absent; she forced back her tears and remained frigid. No remorse came to +her. It was done, and 'twas good that it should be done. It was +necessary. She had not pushed him, he himself had fallen. Had she not +been there he would have fallen just the same. And so since she had not +been there, since both her brain and her heart had been absent, it did +not concern her. And ever and ever resounded the words which absolved her +and chanted her victory; he was dead, and would never possess the works. +</p> +<p> +Erect in the middle of the drawing-room, Constance listened, straining +her ears. Why was it that she heard nothing? How long they were in going +down to pick him up! Anxiously waiting for the tumult which she expected, +the clamor of horror which would assuredly rise from the works, the heavy +footsteps, the loud calls, she held her breath, quivering at the +slightest, faintest sound. Several minutes still elapsed, and the cosey +quietude of her drawing-room pleased her. That room was like an asylum of +<i>bourgeois</i> rectitude, luxurious dignity, in which she felt protected, +saved. Some little objects on which her eyes lighted, a pocket +scent-bottle ornamented with an opal, a paper-knife of burnished silver +left inside a book, fully reassured her. She was moved, almost surprised +at the sight of them, as if they had acquired some new and particular +meaning. Then she shivered slightly and perceived that her hands were icy +cold. She rubbed them together gently, wishing to warm them a little. Why +was it, too, that she now felt so tired? It seemed to her as if she had +just returned from some long walk, from some accident, from some affray +in which she had been bruised. She felt within her also a tendency to +somnolence, the somnolence of satiety, as if she had feasted too +copiously off some spicy dish, after too great a hunger. Amid the fatigue +which benumbed her limbs she desired nothing more; apart from her +sleepiness all that she felt was a kind of astonishment that things +should be as they were. However, she had again begun to listen, repeating +that if that frightful silence continued, she would certainly sink upon a +chair, close her eyes, and sleep. And at last it seemed to her that she +detected a faint sound, scarcely a breath, far away. +</p> +<p> +What was it? No, there was nothing yet. Perhaps she had dreamt that +horrible scene, perhaps it had all been a nightmare; that man marching +on, that black pit, that loud cry of terror! Since she heard nothing, +perhaps nothing had really happened. Were it true a clamor would have +ascended from below in a growing wave of sound, and a distracted rush up +the staircase and along the passages would have brought her the news. +Then again she detected the faint distant sound, which seemed to draw a +little nearer. It was not the tramping of a crowd; it seemed to be a mere +footfall, perhaps that of some pedestrian on the quay. Yet no; it came +from the works, and now it was quite distinct; it ascended steps and then +sped along a passage. And the steps became quicker, and a panting could +be heard, so tragical that she at last divined that the horror was at +hand. All at once the door was violently flung open. Morange entered. He +was alone, beside himself, with livid face and scarce able to stammer. +</p> +<p> +"He still breathes, but his head is smashed; it is all over." +</p> +<p> +"What ails you?" she asked. "What is the matter?" +</p> +<p> +He looked at her, agape. He had hastened upstairs at a run to ask her for +an explanation, for he had quite lost his poor head over that +unaccountable catastrophe. And the apparent ignorance and tranquillity in +which he found Constance completed his dismay. +</p> +<p> +"But I left you near the trap," said he. +</p> +<p> +"Near the trap, yes. You went down, and I immediately came up here." +</p> +<p> +"But before I went down," he resumed with despairing violence, "I begged +you to wait for me and keep a watch on the hole, so that nobody might +fall through it." +</p> +<p> +"Oh! dear no. You said nothing to me, or, at all events, I heard nothing, +understood nothing of that kind." +</p> +<p> +In his terror he peered into her eyes. Assuredly she was lying. Calm as +she might appear, he could detect her voice trembling. Besides, it was +evident she must still have been there, since he had not even had time to +get below before it happened. And all at once he recalled their +conversation, the questions she had asked him and her cry of hatred +against the unfortunate young fellow who had now been picked up, covered +with blood, in the depths of that abyss. Beneath the gust of horror which +chilled him, Morange could only find these words: "Well, madame, poor +Blaise came just behind you and broke his skull." +</p> +<p> +Her demeanor was perfect; her hands quivered as she raised them, and it +was in a halting voice that she exclaimed: "Good Lord! good Lord, what a +frightful misfortune." +</p> +<p> +But at that moment an uproar arose through the house. The drawing-room +door had remained open, and the voices and footsteps of a number of +people drew nearer, became each moment more distinct. Orders were being +given on the stairs, men were straining and drawing breath, there were +all the signs of the approach of some cumbrous burden, carried as gently +as possible. +</p> +<p> +"What! is he being brought up here to me?" exclaimed Constance turning +pale, and her involuntary cry would have sufficed to enlighten the +accountant had he needed it. "He is being brought to me here!" +</p> +<p> +It was not Morange who answered; he was stupefied by the blow. But +Beauchêne abruptly appeared preceding the body, and he likewise was livid +and beside himself, to such a degree did this sudden visit of death +thrill him with fear, in his need of happy life. +</p> +<p> +"Morange will have told you of the frightful catastrophe, my dear," said +he. "Fortunately Denis was there, for the question of responsibility +towards his family. And it was Denis, too, who, just as we were about to +carry the poor fellow home to the pavilion, opposed it, saying that, +given his wife's condition, we should kill her if we carried him to her +in this dying state. And so the only course was to bring him here, was it +not?" +</p> +<p> +Then he quitted his wife with a gesture of bewilderment, and returned to +the landing, where one could hear him repeating in a quivering voice: +"Gently, gently, take care of the balusters." +</p> +<p> +The lugubrious train entered the drawing-room. Blaise had been laid on a +stretcher provided with a mattress. Denis, as pale as linen, followed, +supporting the pillow on which rested his brother's head. A little +streamlet of blood coursed over the dying man's brow, his eyes were +closed. And four factory hands held the shafts of the stretcher. Their +heavy shoes crushed down the carpet, and fragile articles of furniture +were thrust aside anyhow to open a passage for this invasion of horror +and of fright. +</p> +<p> +Amid his bewilderment, an idea occurred to Beauchêne, who continued to +direct the operation. +</p> +<p> +"No, no, don't leave him there. There is a bed in the next room. We will +take him up very gently with the mattress, and lay him with it on the +bed." +</p> +<p> +It was Maurice's room; it was the bed in which Maurice had died, and +which Constance with maternal piety had kept unchanged, consecrating the +room to her son's memory. But what could she say? How could she prevent +Blaise from dying there in his turn, killed by her? +</p> +<p> +The abomination of it all, the vengeance of destiny which exacted this +sacrilege, filled her with such a feeling of revolt that at the moment +when vertigo was about to seize her and the flooring began to flee from +beneath her feet, she was lashed by it and kept erect. And then she +displayed extraordinary strength, will, and insolent courage. When the +stricken man passed before her, her puny little frame stiffened and grew. +She looked at him, and her yellow face remained motionless, save for a +flutter of her eyelids and an involuntary nervous twinge on the left side +of her mouth, which forced a slight grimace. But that was all, and again +she became perfect both in words and gesture, doing and saying what was +necessary without lavishness, but like one simply thunderstruck by the +suddenness of the catastrophe. +</p> +<p> +However, the orders had been carried out in the bedroom, and the bearers +withdrew greatly upset. Down below, directly the accident had been +discovered, old Moineaud had been told to take a cab and hasten to Dr. +Boutan's to bring him back with a surgeon, if one could be found on the +way. +</p> +<p> +"All the same, I prefer to have him here rather than in the basement," +Beauchêne repeated mechanically as he stood before the bed. "He still +breathes. There! see, it is quite apparent. Who knows? Perhaps Boutan may +be able to pull him through, after all." +</p> +<p> +Denis, however, entertained no illusions. He had taken one of his +brother's cold yielding hands in his own and he could feel that it was +again becoming a mere thing, as if broken, wrenched away from life in +that great fall. For a moment he remained motionless beside the +death-bed, with the mad hope they he might, perhaps, by his clasp infuse +a little of the blood in his own heart into the veins of the dying man. +Was not that blood common to them both? Had not their twin brotherhood +drunk life from the same source? It was the other half of himself that +was about to die. Down below, after raising a loud cry of heartrending +distress, he had said nothing. Now all at once he spoke. +</p> +<p> +"One must go to Ambroise's to warn my mother and father. Since he still +breathes, perhaps they will arrive soon enough to embrace him." +</p> +<p> +"Shall I go to fetch them?" Beauchêne good-naturedly inquired. +</p> +<p> +"No, no! thanks. I did at first think of asking that service of you, but +I have reflected. Nobody but myself can break this horrible news to +mamma. And nothing must be done as yet with regard to Charlotte. We will +see about that by and by, when I come back. I only hope that death will +have a little patience, so that I may find my poor brother still alive." +</p> +<p> +He leant forward and kissed Blaise, who with his eyes closed remained +motionless, still breathing faintly. Then distractedly Denis printed +another kiss upon his hand and hurried off. +</p> +<p> +Constance meantime was busying herself, calling the maid, and requesting +her to bring some warm water in order that they might wash the sufferer's +blood-stained brow. It was impossible to think of taking off his jacket; +they had to content themselves with doing the little they could to +improve his appearance pending the arrival of the doctor. And during +these preparations, Beauchêne, haunted, worried by the accident, again +began to speak of it. +</p> +<p> +"It is incomprehensible. One can hardly believe such a stupid mischance +to be possible. Down below the transmission gearing gets out of order, +and this prevents the mechanician from sending the trap up again. Then, +up above, Bonnard gets angry, calls, and at last decides to go down in a +fury when he finds that nobody answers him. Then Morange arrives, flies +into a temper, and goes down in his turn, exasperated at receiving no +answer to his calls for Bonnard. Poor Bonnard! he's sobbing; he wanted to +kill himself when he saw the fine result of his absence." +</p> +<p> +At this point Beauchêne abruptly broke off and turned to Constance. "But +what about you?" he asked. "Morange told me that he had left you up above +near the trap." +</p> +<p> +She was standing in front of her husband, in the full light which came +through the window. And again did her eyelids beat while a little nervous +twinge slightly twisted her mouth on the left side. That was all. +</p> +<p> +"I? Why I had gone down the passage. I came back here at once, as Morange +knows very well." +</p> +<p> +A moment previously, Morange, annihilated, his legs failing him, had sunk +upon a chair. Incapable of rendering any help, he sat there silent, +awaiting the end. When he heard Constance lie in that quiet fashion, he +looked at her. The assassin was herself, he no longer doubted it. And at +that moment he felt a craving to proclaim it, to cry it aloud. +</p> +<p> +"Why, he thought that he had begged you to remain there on the watch," +Beauchêne resumed, addressing his wife. +</p> +<p> +"At all events his words never reached me," Constance duly answered. +"Should I have moved if he had asked me to do that?" And turning towards +the accountant she, in her turn, had the courage to fix her pale eyes +upon him. "Just remember, Morange, you rushed down like a madman, you +said nothing to me, and I went on my way." +</p> +<p> +Beneath those pale eyes, keen as steel, which dived into his own, Morange +was seized with abject fear. All his weakness, his cowardice of heart +returned. Could he accuse her of such an atrocious crime? He pictured the +consequences. And then, too, he no longer knew if he were right or not; +his poor maniacal mind was lost. +</p> +<p> +"It is possible," he stammered, "I may simply have thought I spoke. And +it must be so since it can't be otherwise." +</p> +<p> +Then he relapsed into silence with a gesture of utter lassitude. The +complicity demanded was accepted. For a moment he thought of rising to +see if Blaise still breathed; but he did not dare. Deep peacefulness fell +upon the room. +</p> +<p> +Ah! how great was the anguish, the torture in the cab, when Blaise +brought Mathieu and Marianne back with him. He had at first spoken to +them simply of an accident, a rather serious fall. But as the vehicle +rolled along he had lost his self-possession, weeping and confessing the +truth in response to their despairing questions. Thus, when they at last +reached the factory, they doubted no longer, their child was dead. Work +had just been stopped, and they recalled their visit to the place on the +morrow of Maurice's death. They were returning to the same stillness, the +same grave-like silence. All the rumbling life had suddenly ceased, the +machines were cold and mute, the workshops darkened and deserted. Not a +sound remained, not a soul, not a puff of that steam which was like the +very breath of the place. He who had watched over its work was dead, and +it was dead like him. Then their affright increased when they passed from +the factory to the house amid that absolute solitude, the gallery steeped +in slumber, the staircase quivering, all the doors upstairs open, as in +some uninhabited place long since deserted. In the ante-room they found +no servant. And it was indeed in the same tragedy of sudden death that +they again participated, only this time it was their own son whom they +were to find in the same room, on the same bed, frigid, pale, and +lifeless. +</p> +<p> +Blaise had just expired. Boutan was there at the head of the bed, holding +the inanimate hand in which the final pulsation of blood was dying away. +And when he saw Mathieu and Marianne, who had instinctively crossed the +disorderly drawing-room, rushing into that bedchamber whose odor of +nihility they recognized, he could but murmur in a voice full of sobs: +</p> +<p> +"My poor friends, embrace him; you will yet have a little of his last +breath." +</p> +<p> +That breath had scarce ceased, and the unhappy mother, the unhappy +father, had already sprung forward, kissing those lips that exhaled the +final quiver of life, and sobbing and crying their distress aloud. Their +Blaise was dead. Like Rose, he had died suddenly, a year later, on a day +of festivity. Their heart wound, scarce closed as yet, opened afresh with +a tragic rending. Amid their long felicity this was the second time that +they were thus terribly recalled to human wretchedness; this was the +second hatchet stroke which fell on the flourishing, healthy, happy +family. And their fright increased. Had they not yet finished paying +their accumulated debt to misfortune? Was slow destruction now arriving +with blow following blow? Already since Rose had quitted them, her bier +strewn with flowers, they had feared to see their prosperity and +fruitfulness checked and interrupted now that there was an open breach. +And to-day, through that bloody breach, their Blaise departed in the most +frightful of fashions, crushed as it were by the jealous anger of +destiny. And now what other of their children would be torn away from +them on the morrow to pay in turn the ransom of their happiness? +</p> +<p> +Mathieu and Marianne long remained sobbing on their knees beside the bed. +Constance stood a few paces away, silent, with an air of quivering +desolation. Beauchêne, as if to combat that fear of death which made him +shiver, had a moment previously seated himself at the little +writing-table formerly used by Maurice, which had been left in the +drawing-room like a souvenir. And he then strove to draw up a notice to +his workpeople, to inform them that the factory would remain closed until +the day after the funeral. He was vainly seeking words when he perceived +Denis coming out of the bedroom, where he had wept all his tears and set +his whole heart in the last kiss which he had bestowed on his departed +brother. Beauchêne called him, as if desirous of diverting him from his +gloomy thoughts. "There, sit down here and continue this," said he. +</p> +<p> +Constance, in her turn entering the drawing-room, heard those words. They +were virtually the same as the words which her husband had pronounced +when making Blaise seat himself at that same table of Maurice's, on the +day when he had given him the place of that poor boy, whose body almost +seemed to be still lying on the bed in the adjoining room. And she +recoiled with fright on seeing Denis seated there and writing. Had not +Blaise resuscitated? Even as she had mistaken the twins one for the other +that very afternoon on rising from the gay baptismal lunch, so now again +she saw Blaise in Denis, the pair of them so similar physically that in +former times their parents had only been able to distinguish them by the +different color of their eyes. And thus it was as if Blaise returned and +resumed his place; Blaise, who would possess the works although she had +killed him. She had made a mistake; dead as he was, he would nevertheless +have the works. She had killed one of those Froments, but behold another +was born. When one died his brother filled up the breach. And her crime +then appeared to her such a useless one, such a stupid one, that she was +aghast at it, the hair on the nape of her neck standing up, while she +burst into a cold sweat of fear, and recoiled as from a spectre. +</p> +<p> +"It is a notice for the workpeople," Beauchêne repeated. "We will have it +posted at the entrance." +</p> +<p> +She wished to be brave, and, approaching her husband, she said to him: +"Draw it up yourself. Why give Blaise the trouble at such a moment as +this?" +</p> +<p> +She had said "Blaise"; and once more an icy sensation of horror came over +her. Unconsciously she had heard herself saying yonder, in the ante-room: +"Blaise, where did I put my boa?" And it was Denis who had brought it to +her. Of what use had it been for her to kill Blaise, since Denis was +there? When death mows down a soldier of life, another is always ready to +take the vacant post of combat. +</p> +<p> +But a last defeat awaited her. Mathieu and Marianne reappeared, while +Morange, seized with a need of motion, came and went with an air of +stupefaction, quite losing his wits amid his dreadful sufferings, those +awful things which could but unhinge his narrow mind. +</p> +<p> +"I am going down," stammered Marianne, trying to wipe away her tears and +to remain erect. "I wish to see Charlotte, and prepare and tell her of +the misfortune. I alone can find the words to say, so that she may not +die of the shock, circumstanced as she is." +</p> +<p> +But Mathieu, full of anxiety, sought to detain his wife, and spare her +this fresh trial. "No, I beg you," he said; "Denis will go, or I will go +myself." +</p> +<p> +With gentle obstinacy, however, she still went towards the stairs. "I am +the only one who can tell her of it, I assure you—I shall have +strength—" +</p> +<p> +But all at once she staggered and fainted. It became necessary to lay her +on a sofa in the drawing-room. And when she recovered consciousness, her +face remained quite white and distorted, and an attack of nausea came +upon her. Then, as Constance, with an air of anxious solicitude, rang for +her maid and sent for her little medicine-chest, Mathieu confessed the +truth, which hitherto had been kept secret; Marianne, like Charlotte, was +<i>enceinte</i>. It confused her a little, he said, since she was now +three-and-forty years old; and so they had not mentioned it. "Ah! poor +brave wife!" he added. "She wished to spare our daughter-in-law too great +a shock; I trust that she herself will not be struck down by it." +</p> +<p> +<i>Enceinte</i>, good heavens! As Constance heard this, it seemed as if a +bludgeon were falling on her to make her defeat complete. And so, even if +she should now let Denis, in his turn, kill himself, another Froment was +coming who would replace him. There was ever another and another of that +race—a swarming of strength, an endless fountain of life, against +which it became impossible to battle. Amid her stupefaction at finding the +breach repaired when scarce opened, Constance realized her powerlessness +and nothingness, childless as she was fated to remain. And she felt +vanquished, overcome with awe, swept away as it were herself; thrust +aside by the victorious flow of everlasting Fruitfulness. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="XVIII">XVIII</a></h4> + +<p> +FOURTEEN months later there was a festival at Chantebled. Denis, who had +taken Blaise's place at the factory, was married to Marthe Desvignes. And +after all the grievous mourning this was the first smile, the bright warm +sun of springtime, so to say, following severe winter. Mathieu and +Marianne, hitherto grief-stricken and clad in black, displayed a gayety +tinged with soft emotion in presence of the sempiternal renewal of life. +The mother had been willing to don less gloomy a gown, and the father had +agreed to defer no longer a marriage that had long since been resolved +upon, and was necessitated by all sorts of considerations. For more than +two years now Rose had been sleeping in the little cemetery of Janville, +and for more than a year Blaise had joined her there, beneath flowers +which were ever fresh. And the souvenir of the dear dead ones, whom they +all visited, and who had remained alive in all their hearts, was to +participate in the coming festival. It was as if they themselves had +decided with their parents that the hour for the espousals had struck, +and that regret for their loss ought no longer to bar the joy of growth +and increase. +</p> +<p> +Denis's installation at the Beauchêne works in his brother's place had +come about quite naturally. If he had not gone thither on leaving the +science school where he had spent three years, it was simply because the +position was at that time already held by Blaise. All his technical +studies marked him out for the post. In a single day he had fitted +himself for it, and he simply had to take up his quarters in the little +pavilion, Charlotte having fled to Chantebled with her little Berthe +directly after the horrible catastrophe. It should be added that Denis' +entry into the establishment offered a convenient solution with regard to +the large sum of money lent to Beauchêne, which, it had been arranged, +should be reimbursed by a sixth share in the factory. That money came +from the family, and one brother simply took the place of the other, +signing the agreement which the deceased would have signed. With a +delicate rectitude, however, Denis insisted that out of his share of the +profits an annuity should be assigned to Charlotte, his brother's widow. +</p> +<p> +Thus matters were settled in a week, in the manner that circumstances +logically demanded, and without possibility of discussion. Constance, +bewildered and overwhelmed, was not even able to struggle. Her husband +reduced her to silence by repeating: "What would you have me do? I must +have somebody to help me, and it is just as well to take Denis as a +stranger. Besides, if he worries me I will buy him out within a year and +give him his dismissal!" +</p> +<p> +At this Constance remained silent to avoid casting his ignominy in his +face, amid her despair at feeling the walls of the house crumble and +fall, bit by bit, upon her. +</p> +<p> +Once installed at the works, Denis considered that the time had come to +carry out the matrimonial plans which he had long since arranged with +Marthe Desvignes. The latter, Charlotte's younger sister and at one time +the inseparable friend of Rose, had been waiting for him for nearly three +years now, with her bright smile and air of affectionate good sense. They +had known one another since childhood, and had exchanged many a vow along +the lonely paths of Janville. But they had said to one another that they +would do nothing prematurely, that for the happiness of a whole lifetime +one might well wait until one was old enough and strong enough to +undertake family duties. Some people were greatly astonished that a young +man whose future was so promising, and whose position at twenty-six years +of age was already a superb one, should thus obstinately espouse a +penniless girl. Mathieu and Marianne smiled, however, and consented, +knowing their son's good reasons. He had no desire to marry a rich girl +who would cost him more than she brought, and he was delighted at having +discovered a pretty, healthy, and very sensible and skilful young woman, +who would be at all times his companion, helpmate, and consoler. He +feared no surprises with her, for he had studied her; she united charm +and good sense with kindliness, all that was requisite for the happiness +of a household. And he himself was very good-natured, prudent, and +sensible, and she knew it and willingly took his arm to tread life's path +with him, certain as she felt that they would thus walk on together until +life's end should be reached, ever advancing with the same tranquil step +under the divine and limpid sun of reason merged in love. +</p> +<p> +Great preparations were made at Chantebled on the day before the wedding. +Nevertheless, the ceremony was to remain of an intimate character, on +account of the recent mourning. The only guests, apart from members of +the family, were the Séguins and the Beauchênes, and even the latter were +cousins. So there would scarcely be more than a score of them altogether, +and only a lunch was to be given. One matter which gave them some brief +concern was to decide where to set the table, and how to decorate it. +Those early days of July were so bright and warm that they resolved to +place it out of doors under the trees. There was a fitting and delightful +spot in front of the old shooting-box, the primitive pavilion, which had +been their first residence on their arrival in the Janville district. +That pavilion was indeed like the family nest, the hearth whence it had +radiated over the surrounding region. As the pavilion had threatened +ruin, Mathieu had repaired and enlarged it with the idea of retiring +thither with Marianne, and Charlotte and her children, as soon as he +should cede the farm to his son Gervais, that being his intention. He +was, indeed, pleased with the idea of living in retirement like a +patriarch, like a king who had willingly abdicated, but whose wise +counsel was still sought and accepted. In place of the former wild garden +a large lawn now stretched before the pavilion, surrounded by some +beautiful trees, elms and hornbeams. These Mathieu had planted, and he +had watched them grow; thus they seemed to him to be almost part of his +flesh. But his real favorite was an oak tree, nearly twenty years of age +and already sturdy, which stood in the centre of the lawn, where he had +planted it with Marianne, who had held the slender sapling in position +while he plied his spade on the day when they had founded their domain of +Chantebled. And near this oak, which thus belonged to their robust +family, there was a basin of living water, fed by the captured springs of +the plateau—water whose crystalline song made the spot one of +continual joy. +</p> +<p> +It was here then that a council was held on the day before the wedding. +Mathieu and Marianne repaired thither to see what preparations would be +necessary, and they found Charlotte with a sketch-book on her knees, +rapidly finishing an impression of the oak tree. +</p> +<p> +"What is that—a surprise?" they asked. +</p> +<p> +She smiled with some confusion. "Yes, yes, a surprise; you will see." +</p> +<p> +Then she confessed that for a fortnight past she had been designing in +water colors a series of <i>menu</i> cards for the wedding feast. And, +prettily and lovingly enough, her idea had been to depict children's +games and children's heads; indeed, all the members of the family in +their childish days. She had taken their likenesses from old +photographs, and her sketch of the oak tree was to serve as a background +for the portraits of the two youngest scions of the house—little +Benjamin and little Guillaume. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu and Marianne were delighted with that fleet procession of little +faces all white and pink which they perfectly recognized as they saw them +pass before their eyes. There were the twins nestling in their cradle, +locked in one another's arms; there was Rose, the dear lost one, in her +little shift; there were Ambroise and Gervais, bare, and wrestling on a +patch of grass; there were Grégoire and Nicolas birdnesting; there were +Claire and the three other girls, Louise, Madeleine, and Marguerite, +romping about the farm, quarrelling with the fowls, springing upon the +horses' backs. But what particularly touched Marianne was the sketch of +her last-born, little Benjamin, now nine months old, whom Charlotte had +depicted reclining under the oak tree in the same little carriage as her +own son Guillaume, who was virtually of the same age, having been born +but eight days later. +</p> +<p> +"The uncle and the nephew," said Mathieu jestingly. "All the same, the +uncle is the elder by a week." +</p> +<p> +As Marianne stood there smiling, soft tears came into her eyes, and the +sketch shook in her happy hands. +</p> +<p> +"The dears!" said she; "my son and grandson. With those dear little ones +I am once again a mother and a grandmother. Ah, yes! those two are the +supreme consolation; they have helped to heal the wound; it is they who +have brought us back hope and courage." +</p> +<p> +This was true. How overwhelming had been the mourning and sadness of the +early days when Charlotte, fleeing the factory, had sought refuge at the +farm! The tragedy by which Blaise had been carried off had nearly killed +her. Her first solace was to see that her daughter Berthe, who had been +rather sickly in Paris, regained bright rosy cheeks amid the open air of +Chantebled. Moreover, she had settled her life: she would spend her +remaining years, in that hospitable house, devoting herself to her two +children, and happy in having so affectionate a grandmother and +grandfather to help and sustain her. She had always shown herself to be +somewhat apart from life, possessed of a dreamy nature, only asking to +love and to be loved in return. +</p> +<p> +So by degrees she settled down once more, installed beside her +grandparents in the old pavilion, which Mathieu fitted up for the three +of them. And wishing to occupy herself, irrespective of her income from +the factory, she even set to work again and painted miniatures, which a +dealer in Paris readily purchased. But her grief was mostly healed by her +little Guillaume, that child bequeathed to her by her dead husband, in +whom he resuscitated. And it was much the same with Marianne since the +birth of Benjamin. A new son had replaced the one she had lost, and +helped to fill the void in her heart. The two women, the two mothers, +found infinite solace in nursing those babes. For them they forgot +themselves; they reared them together, watching them grow side by side; +they gave them the breast at the same hours, and it was their desire to +see them both become very strong, very handsome, and very good. Although +one mother was almost twice as old as the other, they became, as it were, +sisters. The same nourishing milk flowed from both their fruitful bosoms. +And gleams of light penetrated their mourning: they began to laugh when +they saw those little cherubs laugh, and nothing could have been gayer +than the sight of that mother-in-law and that daughter-in-law side by +side, almost mingling, having but one cradle between them, amid an +unceasing florescence of maternity. +</p> +<p> +"Be careful," Mathieu suddenly said to Charlotte; "hide your drawings, +here are Gervais and Claire coming about the table." +</p> +<p> +Gervais at nineteen years of age was quite a colossus, the tallest and +the strongest of the family, with short, curly black hair, large bright +eyes, and a full broad-featured face. He had remained his father's +favorite son, the son of the fertile earth, the one in whom Mathieu +fostered a love for the estate, a passion for skilful agriculture, in +order that later on the young man might continue the good work which had +been begun. Mathieu already disburdened himself on Gervais of a part of +his duties, and was only waiting to see him married to give him the +control of the whole farm. And he often thought of adjoining to him +Claire when she found a husband in some worthy, sturdy fellow who would +assume part of the labor. Two men agreeing well would be none too many +for an enterprise which was increasing in importance every day. Since +Marianne had again been nursing, Claire had been attending to her work. +Though she had no beauty, she was of vigorous health and quite strong for +her seventeen years. She busied herself more particularly with cookery +and household affairs, but she also kept the accounts, being +shrewd-witted and very economically inclined, on which account the +prodigals of the family often made fun of her. +</p> +<p> +"And so it's here that the table is to be set," said Gervais; "I shall +have to see that the lawn is mowed then." +</p> +<p> +On her side Claire inquired what number of people there would be at table +and how she had better place them. Then, Gervais having called to +Frédéric to bring a scythe, the three of them went on discussing the +arrangements. After Rose's death, Frédéric, her betrothed, had continued +working beside Gervais, becoming his most active and intelligent comrade +and helper. For some months, too, Marianne and Mathieu had noticed that +he was revolving around Claire, as though, since he had lost the elder +girl, he were willing to content himself with the younger one, who was +far less beautiful no doubt, but withal a good and sturdy housewife. This +had at first saddened the parents. Was it possible to forget their dear +daughter? Then, however, they felt moved, for the thought came to them +that the family ties would be drawn yet closer, that the young fellow's +heart would not roam in search of love elsewhere, but would remain with +them. So closing their eyes to what went on, they smiled, for in +Frédéric, when Claire should be old enough to marry, Gervais would find +the brother-in-law and partner that he needed. +</p> +<p> +The question of the table had just been settled when a sudden invasion +burst through the tall grass around the oak tree; skirts flew about, and +loose hair waved in the sunshine. +</p> +<p> +"Oh!" cried Louise, "there are no roses." +</p> +<p> +"No," repeated Madeleine, "not a single white rose." +</p> +<p> +"And," added Marguerite, "we have inspected all the bushes. There are no +white roses, only red ones." +</p> +<p> +Thirteen, eleven, and nine, such were their respective ages. Louise, +plump and gay, already looked a little woman; Madeleine, slim and pretty, +spent hours at her piano, her eyes full of dreaminess; Marguerite, whose +nose was rather too large and whose lips were thick, had beautiful golden +hair. She would pick up little birds at winter time and warm them with +her hands. And the three of, them, after scouring the back garden, where +flowers mingled with vegetables, had now rushed up in despair at their +vain search. No white roses for a wedding! That was the end of +everything! What could they offer to the bride? And what could they set +upon the table? +</p> +<p> +Behind the three girls, however, appeared Grégoire, with jeering mien, +and his hands in his pockets. At fifteen he was very malicious, the most +turbulent, worrying member of the family, a lad inclined to the most +diabolical devices. His pointed nose and his thin lips denoted also his +adventurous spirit, his will power, and his skill in effecting his +object. And, apparently much amused by his sisters' disappointment, he +forgot himself and exclaimed, by way of teasing them: "Why, I know where +there are some white roses, and fine ones, too." +</p> +<p> +"Where is that?" asked Mathieu. +</p> +<p> +"Why, at the mill, near the wheel, in the little enclosure. There are +three big bushes which are quite white, with roses as big as cabbages." +</p> +<p> +Then he flushed and became confused, for his father was eyeing him +severely. +</p> +<p> +"What! do you still prowl round the mill?" said Mathieu. "I had forbidden +you to do so. As you know that there are white roses in the enclosure you +must have gone in, eh?" +</p> +<p> +"No; I looked over the wall." +</p> +<p> +"You climbed up the wall, that's the finishing touch! So you want to land +me in trouble with those Lepailleurs, who are decidedly very foolish and +very malicious people. There is really a devil in you, my boy." +</p> +<p> +That which Grégoire left unsaid was that he repaired to the enclosure in +order that he might there join Thérèse, the miller's fair-haired daughter +with the droll, laughing face, who was also a terribly adventurous damsel +for her thirteen years. True, their meetings were but childish play, but +at the end of the enclosure, under the apple trees, there was a +delightful nook where one could laugh and chat and amuse oneself at one's +ease. +</p> +<p> +"Well, just listen to me," Mathieu resumed. "I won't have you going to +play with Thérèse again. She is a pretty little girl, no doubt. But that +house is not a place for you to go to. It seems that they fight one +another there now." +</p> +<p> +This was a fact. When that young scamp Antonin had recovered his health, +he had been tormented by a longing to return to Paris, and had done all +he could with that object, in view of resuming a life of idleness and +dissipation. Lepailleur, greatly irritated at having been duped by his +son, had at first violently opposed his plans. But what could he do in +the country with that idle fellow, whom he himself had taught to hate the +earth and to sneer at the old rotting mill. Besides, he now had his wife +against him. She was ever admiring her son's learning, and so stubborn +was her faith in him that she was convinced that he would this time +secure a good position in the capital. Thus the father had been obliged +to give way, and Antonin was now finally wrecking his life while filling +some petty employment at a merchant's in the Rue du Mail. But, on the +other hand, the quarrelling increased in the home, particularly whenever +Lepailleur suspected his wife of robbing him in order to send money to +that big lazybones, their son. From the bridge over the Yeuse on certain +days one could hear oaths and blows flying about. And here again was +family life destroyed, strength wasted, and happiness spoilt. +</p> +<p> +Carried off by perfect anger, Mathieu continued: "To think of it; people +who had everything needful to be happy! How can one be so stupid? How can +one seek wretchedness for oneself with such obstinacy? As for that idea +of theirs of an only son, and their vanity in wanting to make a gentleman +of him, ah! well, they have succeeded finely! They must be extremely +pleased to-day! It is just like Lepailleur's hatred of the earth, his +old-fashioned system of cultivation, his obstinacy in leaving his bit of +moorland barren and refusing to sell it to me, no doubt by way of +protesting against our success! Can you imagine anything so stupid? And +it's just like his mill; all folly and idleness he stands still, looking +at it fall into ruins. He at least had a reason for that in former times; +he used to say that as the region had almost renounced corn-growing, the +peasants did not bring him enough grain to set his mill-stones working. +But nowadays when, thanks to us, corn overflows on all sides, surely he +ought to have pulled down his old wheel and have replaced it by a good +engine. Ah! if I were in his place I would already have a new and bigger +mill there, making all use of the water of the Yeuse, and connecting it +with Janville railway station by a line of rails, which would not cost so +much to lay down." +</p> +<p> +Grégoire stood listening, well pleased that the storm should fall on +another than himself. And Marianne, seeing that her three daughters were +still greatly grieved at having no white roses, consoled them, saying: +"Well, for the table to-morrow morning you must gather those which are +the lightest in color—the pale pink ones; they will do very well." +</p> +<p> +Thereupon Mathieu, calming down, made the children laugh, by adding +gayly: "Gather the red ones too, the reddest you find. They will +symbolize the blood of life!" +</p> +<p> +Marianne and Charlotte were still lingering there talking of all the +preparations, when other little feet came tripping through the grass. +Nicolas, quite proud of his seven years, was leading his niece Berthe, a +big girl of six. They agreed very well together. That day they had +remained indoors playing at "fathers and mothers" near the cradle +occupied by Benjamin and Guillaume, whom they called their babies. But +all at once the infants had awoke, clamoring for nourishment. And Nicolas +and Berthe, quite alarmed, had thereupon run off to fetch the two +mothers. +</p> +<p> +"Mamma!" called Nicolas, "Benjamin's asking for you. He's thirsty." +</p> +<p> +"Mamma, mamma!" repeated Berthe, "Guillaume's thirsty. Come quick, he's +in a hurry." +</p> +<p> +Marianne and Charlotte laughed. True enough, the morrow's wedding had +made them forget their pets; and so they hastily returned to the house. +</p> +<p> +On the following day those happy nuptials were celebrated in affectionate +intimacy. There were but one-and-twenty at table under the oak tree in +the middle of the lawn, which, girt with elms and hornbeams, seemed like +a hall of verdure. The whole family was present: first those of the farm, +then Denis the bridegroom, next Ambroise and his wife Andrée, who had +brought their little Léonce with them. And apart from the family proper, +there were only the few invited relatives, Beauchêne and Constance, +Séguin and Valentine, with, of course, Madame Desvignes, the bride's +mother. There were twenty-one at table, as has been said; but besides +those one-and-twenty there were three very little ones present: Léonce, +who at fifteen months had just been weaned, and Benjamin and Guillaume, +who still took the breast. Their little carriages had been drawn up near, +so that they also belonged to the party, which was thus a round two +dozen. And the table, flowery with roses, sent forth a delightful perfume +under the rain of summer sunbeams which flecked it with gold athwart the +cool shady foliage. From one horizon to the other stretched the wondrous +tent of azure of the triumphant July sky. And Marthe's white bridal gown, +and the bright dresses of the girls, big and little; all those gay +frocks, and all that fine youthful health, seemed like the very +florescence of that green nook of happiness. They lunched joyously, and +ended by clinking glasses in country fashion, while wishing all sorts of +prosperity to the bridal pair and to everybody present. +</p> +<p> +Then, while the servants were removing the cloth, Séguin, who affected an +interest in horse-breeding and cattle-raising, wished Mathieu to show him +his stables. He had talked nothing but horseflesh during the meal, and +was particularly desirous of seeing some big farm-horses, whose great +strength had been praised by his host. He persuaded Beauchêne to join him +in the inspection, and the three men were starting, when Constance and +Valentine, somewhat inquisitive with respect to that farm, the great +growth of which still filled them with stupefaction, decided to follow, +leaving the rest of the family installed under the trees, amid the +smiling peacefulness of that fine afternoon. +</p> +<p> +The cow-houses and stables were on the right hand. But in order to reach +them one had to cross the great yard, whence the entire estate could be +seen. And here there was a halt, a sudden stopping inspired by +admiration, so grandly did the work accomplished show forth under the +sun. They had known that land dry and sterile, covered with mere scrub; +they beheld it now one sea of waving corn, of crops whose growth +increased at each successive season. Up yonder, on the old marshy +plateau, the fertility was such, thanks to the humus amassed during long +centuries, that Mathieu did not even manure the ground as yet. Then, to +right and to left, the former sandy slopes spread out all greenery, +fertilized by the springs which ever brought them increase of +fruitfulness. And the very woods afar off, skilfully arranged, aired by +broad clearings, seemed to possess more sap, as if all the surrounding +growth of life had instilled additional vigor into them. With this vigor, +this power, indeed, the whole domain was instinct; it was creation, man's +labor fertilizing sterile soil, and drawing from it a wealth of +nourishment for expanding humanity, the conqueror of the world. +</p> +<p> +There was a long spell of silence. At last Séguin, in his dry shrill +voice, with a tinge of bitterness born of his own ruin, remarked: "You +have done a good stroke of business. I should never have believed it +possible." +</p> +<p> +Then they walked on again. But in the sheds, the cow-houses, the +sheep-cotes, and all round, the sensation of strength and power yet +increased. Creation was there continuing; the cattle, the sheep, the +fowls, the rabbits, all that dwelt and swarmed there were incessantly +increasing and multiplying. Each year the ark became too small, and fresh +pens and fresh buildings were required. Life increased life; on all sides +there were fresh broods, fresh flocks, fresh herds; all the conquering +wealth of inexhaustible fruitfulness. +</p> +<p> +When they reached the stables Séguin greatly admired the big draught +horses, and praised them with the expressions of a connoisseur. Then he +returned to the subject of breeding, and cited some extraordinary +results that one of his friends obtained by certain crosses. So far as +the animal kingdom was concerned his ideas were sound enough, but when +he came to the consideration of human kind he was as erratic as ever. As +they walked back from the stables he began to descant on the population +question, denouncing the century, and repeating all his old theories. +Perhaps it was jealous rancor that impelled him to protest against the +victory of life which the whole farm around him proclaimed so loudly. +Depopulation! why, it did not extend fast enough. Paris, which wished to +die, so people said, was really taking its time about it. All the same, +he noticed some good symptoms, for bankruptcy was increasing on all +sides—in science, politics, literature, and even art. Liberty was +already dead. Democracy, by exasperating ambitious instincts and setting +classes in conflict for power, was rapidly leading to a social collapse. +Only the poor still had large families; the <i>élite</i>, the people of +wealth and intelligence, had fewer and fewer children, so that, before +final annihilation came, there might still be a last period of +acceptable civilization, in which there would remain only a few men and +women of supreme refinement, content with perfumes for sustenance and +mere breath for enjoyment. He, however, was disgusted, for he now felt +certain that he would not see that period since it was so slow in +coming. +</p> +<p> +"If only Christianity would return to the primitive faith," he continued, +"and condemn woman as an impure, diabolical, and harmful creature, we +might go and lead holy lives in the desert, and in that way bring the +world to an end much sooner. But the political Catholicism of nowadays, +anxious to keep alive itself, allows and regulates marriage, with the +view of maintaining things as they are. Oh! you will say, of course, that +I myself married and that I have children, which is true; but I am +pleased to think that they will redeem my fault. Gaston says that a +soldier's only wife ought to be his sword, and so he intends to remain +single; and as Lucie, on her side, has taken the veil at the Ursulines, I +feel quite at ease. My race is, so to say, already extinct, and that +delights me." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu listened with a smile. He was acquainted with that more or less +literary form of pessimism. In former days all such views, as, for +instance, the struggle of civilization against the birth-rate, and the +relative childlessness of the most intelligent and able members of the +community, had disturbed him. But since he had fought the cause of love +he had found another faith. Thus he contented himself with saying rather +maliciously: "But you forget your daughter Andrée and her little boy +Léonce." +</p> +<p> +"Oh! Andrée!" replied Séguin, waving his hand as if she did not belong to +him. +</p> +<p> +Valentine, however, had stopped short, gazing at him fixedly. Since their +household had been wrecked and they had been leading lives apart, she no +longer tolerated his sudden attacks of insane brutality and jealousy. By +reason also of the squandering of their fortune she had a hold on him, +for he feared that she might ask for certain accounts to be rendered her. +</p> +<p> +"Yes," he granted, "there is Andrée; but then girls don't count." +</p> +<p> +They were walking on again when Beauchêne, who had hitherto contented +himself with puffing and chewing his cigar, for reserve was imposed upon +him by the frightful drama of his own family life, was unable to remain +silent any longer. Forgetful, relapsing into the extraordinary +unconsciousness which always set him erect, like a victorious superior +man, he spoke out loudly and boldly: +</p> +<p> +"I don't belong to Séguin's school, but, all the same, he says some true +things. That population question greatly interests me even now, and I can +flatter myself that I know it fully. Well, it is evident that Malthus was +right. It is not allowable for people to have families without knowing +how they will be able to nourish them. If the poor die of starvation it +is their fault, and not ours." +</p> +<p> +Then he reverted to his usual lecture on the subject. The governing +classes alone were reasonable in keeping to small families. A country +could only produce a certain supply of food, and was therefore restricted +to a certain population. People talked of the faulty division of wealth; +but it was madness to dream of an Utopia, where there would be no more +masters but only so many brothers, equal workers and sharers, who would +apportion happiness among themselves like a birthday-cake. All the evil +then came from the lack of foresight among the poor, though with brutal +frankness he admitted that employers readily availed themselves of the +circumstance that there was a surplus of children to hire labor at +reduced rates. +</p> +<p> +Then, losing all recollection of the past, infatuated, intoxicated with +his own ideas, he went on talking of himself. "People pretend that we +are not patriots because we don't leave troops of children behind us. +But that is simply ridiculous; each serves the country in his own way. +If the poor folks give it soldiers, we give it our capital—all the +proceeds of our commerce and industry. A fine lot of good would it do +the country if we were to ruin ourselves with big families, which would +hamper us, prevent us from getting rich, and afterwards destroy whatever +we create by subdividing it. With our laws and customs there can be no +substantial fortune unless a family is limited to one son. And yes, that +is necessary; but one son—an only son—that is the only wise +course; therein lies the only possible happiness." +</p> +<p> +It became so painful to hear him, in his position, speaking in that +fashion, that the others remained silent, full of embarrassment. And he, +thinking that he was convincing them, went on triumphantly: "Thus, I +myself—" +</p> +<p> +But at this moment Constance interrupted him. She had hitherto walked on +with bowed head amid that flow of chatter which brought her so much +torture and shame, an aggravation, as it were, of her defeat. But now she +raised her face, down which two big tears were trickling. +</p> +<p> +"Alexandre!" she said. +</p> +<p> +"What is it, my dear?" +</p> +<p> +He did not yet understand. But on seeing her tears, he ended by feeling +disturbed, in spite of all his fine assurance. He looked at the others, +and wishing to have the last word, he added: "Ah, yes! our poor child. +But particular cases have nothing to do with general theories; ideas are +still ideas." +</p> +<p> +Silence fell between them. They were now near the lawn where the family +had remained. And for the last moment Mathieu had been thinking of +Morange, whom he had also invited to the wedding, but who had excused +himself from attending, as if he were terrified at the idea of gazing on +the joy of others, and dreaded, too, lest some sacrilegious attempt +should be made in his absence on the mysterious sanctuary where he +worshipped. Would he, Morange—so Mathieu wondered—have clung +like Beauchêne to his former ideas? Would he still have defended the +theory of the only child; that hateful, calculating theory which had +cost him both his wife and his daughter? Mathieu could picture him +flitting past, pale and distracted, with the step of a maniac hastening +to some mysterious end, in which insanity would doubtless have its +place. But the lugubrious vision vanished, and then again before +Mathieu's eyes the lawn spread out under the joyous sun, offering +between its belt of foliage such a picture of happy health and +triumphant beauty, that he felt impelled to break the mournful silence +and exclaim: +</p> +<p> +"Look there! look there! Isn't that gay; isn't that a delightful +scene—all those dear women and dear children in that setting of +verdure? It ought to be painted to show people how healthy and beautiful +life is!" +</p> +<p> +Time had not been lost on the lawn since the Beauchênes and Séguins had +gone off to visit the stables. First of all there had been a distribution +of the <i>menu</i> cards, which Charlotte had adorned with such delicate +water-color sketches. This surprise of hers had enraptured them all at +lunch, and they still laughed at the sight of those pretty children's +heads. Then, while the servants cleared the table, Grégoire achieved a +great success by offering the bride a bouquet of splendid white roses, +which he drew out of a bush where he had hitherto kept it hidden. He had +doubtless been waiting for some absence of his father's. They were the +roses of the mill; with Thérèse's assistance he must have pillaged the +bushes in the enclosure. Marianne, recognizing how serious was the +transgression, wished to scold him. But what superb white roses they +were, as big as cabbages, as he himself had said! And he was entitled to +triumph over them, for they were the only white roses there, and had been +secured by himself, like the wandering urchin he was with a spice of +knight-errantry in his composition, quite ready to jump over walls and +cajole damsels in order to deck a bride with snowy blooms. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! papa won't say anything," he declared, with no little +self-assurance; "they are far too beautiful." +</p> +<p> +This made the others laugh; but fresh emotion ensued, for Benjamin and +Guillaume awoke and screamed their hunger aloud. It was gayly remarked, +however, that they were quite entitled to their turn of feasting. And as +it was simply a family gathering there was no embarrassment on the part +of the mothers. Marianne took Benjamin on her knees in the shade of the +oak tree, and Charlotte placed herself with Guillaume on her right hand; +while, on her left, Andrée seated herself with little Léonce, who had +been weaned a week previously, but was still very fond of caresses. +</p> +<p> +It was at this moment that the Beauchênes and the Séguins reappeared with +Mathieu, and stopped short, struck by the charm of the spectacle before +them. Between a framework of tall trees, under the patriarchal oak, on +the thick grass of the lawn the whole vigorous family was gathered in a +group, instinct with gayety, beauty, and strength. Gervais and Claire, +ever active, were, with Frédéric, hurrying on the servants, who made no +end of serving the coffee on the table which had just been cleared. For +this table the three younger girls, half buried in a heap of flowers, tea +and blush and crimson roses, were now, with the help of knight Grégoire, +devising new decorations. Then, a few paces away, the bridal pair, Denis +and Marthe, were conversing in undertones; while the bride's mother, +Madame Desvignes, sat listening to them with a discreet and infinitely +gentle smile upon her lips. And it was in the midst of all this that +Marianne, radiant, white of skin, still fresh, ever beautiful, with +serene strength, was giving the breast to her twelfth child, her +Benjamin, and smiling at him as he sucked away; while surrendering her +other knee to little Nicolas, who was jealous of his younger brother. And +her two daughters-in-law seemed like a continuation of herself. There was +Andrée on the left with Ambroise, who had stepped up to tease his little +Léonce; and Charlotte on the right with her two children, Guillaume, who +hung on her breast, and Berthe, who had sought a place among her skirts. +And here, faith in life had yielded prosperity, ever-increasing, +overflowing wealth, all the sovereign florescence of happy fruitfulness. +</p> +<p> +Séguin, addressing himself to Marianne, asked her jestingly: "And so that +little gentleman is the fourteenth you have nursed?" +</p> +<p> +She likewise laughed. "No; I mustn't tell fibs! I have nursed twelve, +including this one; that is the exact number." +</p> +<p> +Beauchêne, who had recovered his self-possession, could not refrain from +intervening once more: "A full dozen, eh! It is madness!" +</p> +<p> +"I share your opinion," said Mathieu, laughing in his turn. "At all +events, if it is not madness it is extravagance, as we admit, my wife and +I, when we are alone. And we certainly don't think that all people ought +to have such large families as ours. But, given the situation in France +nowadays, with our population dwindling and that of nearly every other +country increasing, it is hardly possible to complain of even the largest +family. Thus, even if our example be exaggerated, it remains an example, +I think, for others to think over." +</p> +<p> +Marianne listened, still smiling, but with tears standing in her eyes. A +feeling of gentle sadness was penetrating her; her heart-wound had +reopened even amid all her joy at seeing her children assembled around +her. "Yes," said she in a trembling voice, "there have been twelve, but I +have only ten left. Two are already sleeping yonder, waiting for us +underground." +</p> +<p> +There was no sign of dread, however, in that evocation of the peaceful +little cemetery of Janville and the family grave in which all the +children hoped some day to be laid, one after the other, side by side. +Rather did that evocation, coming amid that gay wedding assembly, seem +like a promise of future blessed peace. The memory of the dear departed +ones remained alive, and lent to one and all a kind of loving gravity +even amid their mirth. Was it not impossible to accept life without +accepting death. Each came here to perform his task, and then, his work +ended, went to join his elders in that slumber of eternity where the +great fraternity of humankind was fulfilled. +</p> +<p> +But in presence of those jesters, Beauchêne and Séguin, quite a flood of +words rose to Mathieu's lips. He would have liked to answer them; he +would have liked to triumph over the mendacious theories which they still +dared to assert even in their hour of defeat. To fear that the earth +might become over-populated, that excess of life might produce famine, +was this not idiotic? Others only had to do as he had done: create the +necessary subsistence each time that a child was born to them. And he +would have pointed to Chantebled, his work, and to all the corn growing +up under the sun, even as his children grew. They could not be charged +with having come to consume the share of others, since each was born with +his bread before him. And millions of new beings might follow, for the +earth was vast: more than two-thirds of it still remained to be placed +under cultivation, and therein lay endless fertility for unlimited +humanity. Besides, had not every civilization, every progress, been due +to the impulse of numbers? The improvidence of the poor had alone urged +revolutionary multitudes to the conquest of truth, justice, and +happiness. And with each succeeding day the human torrent would require +more kindliness, more equity, the logical division of wealth by just laws +regulating universal labor. If it were true, too, that civilization was a +check to excessive natality, this phenomenon itself might make one hope +in final equilibrium in the far-off ages, when the earth should be +entirely populated and wise enough to live in a sort of divine +immobility. But all this was pure speculation beside the needs of the +hour, the nations which must be built up afresh and incessantly enlarged, +pending the eventual definitive federation of mankind. And it was really +an example, a brave and a necessary one, that Marianne and he were +giving, in order that manners and customs, and the idea of morality and +the idea of beauty might be changed. +</p> +<p> +Full of these thoughts Mathieu was already opening his mouth to speak. +But all at once he felt how futile discussion would be in presence of +that admirable scene; that mother surrounded by such a florescence of +vigorous children; that mother nursing yet another child, under the big +oak which she had planted. She was bravely accomplishing her +task—that of perpetuating the world. And hers was the sovereign +beauty. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu could think of only one thing that would express everything, and +that was to kiss her with all his heart before the whole assembly. +</p> +<p> +"There, dear wife! You are the most beautiful and the best! May all the +others do as you have done." +</p> +<p> +Then, when Marianne had gloriously returned his kiss, there arose an +acclamation, a tempest of merry laughter. They were both of heroic mould; +it was with a great dash of heroism that they had steered their bark +onward, thanks to their full faith in life, their will of action, and the +force of their love. And Constance was at last conscious of it: she could +realize the conquering power of fruitfulness; she could already see the +Froments masters of the factory through their son Denis; masters of +Séguin's mansion through their son Ambroise; masters, too, of all the +countryside through their other children. Numbers spelt victory. And +shrinking, consumed with a love which she could never more satisfy, full +of the bitterness of her defeat, though she yet hoped for some abominable +revenge of destiny, she—who never wept!—turned aside to hide +the big hot tears which now burnt her withered cheeks. +</p> +<p> +Meantime Benjamin and Guillaume were enjoying themselves like greedy +little men whom nothing could disturb. Had there been less laughter one +might have heard the trickling of their mothers' milk: that little stream +flowing forth amid the torrent of sap which upraised the earth and made +the big trees quiver in the powerful July blaze. On every side fruitful +life was conveying germs, creating and nourishing. And for its eternal +work an eternal river of milk flowed through the world. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="XIX">XIX</a></h4> + +<p> +ONE Sunday morning Norine and Cécile—who, though it was rightly a day +of rest, were, nevertheless, working on either side of their little table, +pressed as they were to deliver boxes for the approaching New Year +season—received a visit which left them pale with stupor and fright. +</p> +<p> +Their unknown hidden life had hitherto followed a peaceful course, the +only battle being to make both ends meet every week, and to put by the +rent money for payment every quarter. During the eight years that the +sisters had been living together in the Rue de la Fédération near the +Champ de Mars, occupying the same big room with cheerful windows, a room +whose coquettish cleanliness made them feel quite proud, Norine's child +had grown up steadily between his two affectionate mothers. For he had +ended by confounding them together: there was Mamma Norine and there was +Mamma Cécile; and he did not exactly know whether one of the two was more +his mother than the other. It was for him alone that they both lived and +toiled, the one still a fine, good-looking woman at forty years of age, +the other yet girlish at thirty. +</p> +<p> +Now, at about ten o'clock that Sunday, there came in succession two loud +knocks at the door. When the latter was opened a short, thick-set fellow, +about eighteen, stepped in. He was dark-haired, with a square face, a +hard prominent jaw, and eyes of a pale gray. And he wore a ragged old +jacket and a gray cloth cap, discolored by long usage. +</p> +<p> +"Excuse me," said he; "but isn't it here that live Mesdames Moineaud, who +make cardboard boxes?" +</p> +<p> +Norine stood there looking at him with sudden uneasiness. Her heart had +contracted as if she were menaced. She had certainly seen that face +somewhere before; but she could only recall one old-time danger, which +suddenly seemed to revive, more formidable than ever, as if threatening +to spoil her quiet life. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, it is here," she answered. +</p> +<p> +Without any haste the young man glanced around the room. He must have +expected more signs of means than he found, for he pouted slightly. Then +his eyes rested on the child, who, like a well-behaved little boy, had +been amusing himself with reading, and had now raised his face to examine +the newcomer. And the latter concluded his examination by directing a +brief glance at the other woman who was present, a slight, sickly +creature who likewise felt anxious in presence of that sudden apparition +of the unknown. +</p> +<p> +"I was told the left-hand door on the fourth floor," the young man +resumed. "But, all the same, I was afraid of making a mistake, for the +things I have to say can't be said to everybody. It isn't an easy matter, +and, of course, I thought it well over before I came here." +</p> +<p> +He spoke slowly in a drawling way, and after again making sure that the +other woman was too young to be the one he sought, he kept his pale eyes +steadily fixed on Norine. The growing anguish with which he saw her +quivering, the appeal that she was evidently making to her memory, +induced him to prolong things for another moment. Then he spoke out: "I +am the child who was put to nurse at Rougemont; my name is +Alexandre-Honoré." +</p> +<p> +There was no need for him to say anything more. The unhappy Norine began +to tremble from head to foot, clasped and wrung her hands, while an ashen +hue came over her distorted features. Good heavens—Beauchêne! Yes, it +was Beauchêne whom he resembled, and in so striking a manner, with his +eyes of prey, his big jaw which proclaimed an enjoyer consumed by base +voracity, that she was now astonished that she had not been able to name +him at her first glance. Her legs failed her, and she had to sit down. +</p> +<p> +"So it's you," said Alexandre. +</p> +<p> +As she continued shivering, confessing the truth by her manner, but +unable to articulate a word, to such a point did despair and fright +clutch her at the throat, he felt the need of reassuring her a little, +particularly if he was to keep that door open to him. +</p> +<p> +"You must not upset yourself like that," said he; "you have nothing to +fear from me; it isn't my intention to give you any trouble. Only when I +learnt at last where you were I wished to know you, and that was natural, +wasn't it? I even fancied that perhaps you might be pleased to see +me.... Then, too, the truth is that I'm precious badly off. Three years +ago I was silly enough to come back to Paris, where I do little more than +starve. And on the days when one hasn't breakfasted, one feels inclined +to look up one's parents, even though they may have turned one into the +street, for, all the same, they can hardly be so hard-hearted as to +refuse one a plateful of soup." +</p> +<p> +Tears rose to Norine's eyes. This was the finishing stroke, the return of +that wretched cast-off son, that big suspicious-looking fellow who +accused her and complained of starving. Annoyed at being unable to elicit +from her any response but shivers and sobs, Alexandre turned to Cécile: +"You are her sister, I know," said he; "tell her that it's stupid of her +to go on like that. I haven't come to murder her. It's funny how pleased +she is to see me! Yet I don't make any noise, and I said nothing whatever +to the door-porter downstairs, I assure you." +</p> +<p> +Then as Cécile, without answering him, rose to go and comfort Norine, he +again became interested in the child, who likewise felt frightened and +turned pale on seeing the grief of his two mammas. +</p> +<p> +"So that lad is my brother?" +</p> +<p> +Thereupon Norine suddenly sprang to her feet and set herself between the +child and him. A mad fear had come to her of some catastrophe, some great +collapse which would crush them all. Yet she did not wish to be harsh, +she even sought kind words, but amid it all she lost her head, carried +away by feelings of revolt, rancor, instinctive hostility. +</p> +<p> +"You came, I can understand it. But it is so cruel. What can I do? After +so many years one doesn't know one another, one has nothing to say. And, +besides, as you can see for yourself, I'm not rich." +</p> +<p> +Alexandre glanced round the room for the second time. "Yes, I see," he +answered; "and my father, can't you tell me his name?" +</p> +<p> +She remained thunderstruck by this question and turned yet paler, while +he continued: "Because if my father should have any money I should know +very well how to make him give me some. People have no right to fling +children into the gutter like that." +</p> +<p> +All at once Norine had seen the past rise up before her: Beauchêne, the +works, and her father, who now had just quitted them owing to his +infirmities, leaving his son Victor behind him. +</p> +<p> +And a sort of instinctive prudence came to her at the thought that if she +were to give up Beauchêne's name she might compromise all her happy life, +since terrible complications might ensue. The dread she felt of that +suspicious-looking lad, who reeked of idleness and vice, inspired her +with an idea: "Your father? He has long been dead," said she. +</p> +<p> +He could have known nothing, have learnt nothing on that point, for, in +presence of the energy of her answer, he expressed no doubt whatever of +her veracity, but contented himself with making a rough gesture which +indicated how angry he felt at seeing his hungry hopes thus destroyed. +</p> +<p> +"So I've got to starve!" he growled. +</p> +<p> +Norine, utterly distracted, was possessed by one painful desire—a +desire that he might take himself away, and cease torturing her by his +presence, to such a degree did remorse, and pity, and fright, and horror +now wring her bleeding heart. She opened a drawer and took from it a +ten-franc piece, her savings for the last three months, with which she +had intended to buy a New Year's present for her little boy. And giving +those ten francs to Alexandre, she said: "Listen, I can do nothing for +you. We live all three in this one room, and we scarcely earn our bread. +It grieves me very much to know that you are so unfortunately +circumstanced. But you mustn't rely on me. Do as we do—work." +</p> +<p> +He pocketed the ten francs, and remained there for another moment swaying +about, and saying that he had not come for money, and that he could very +well understand things. For his part he always behaved properly with +people when people behaved properly with him. And he repeated that since +she showed herself good-natured he had no idea of creating any scandal. A +mother who did what she could performed her duty, even though she might +only give a ten-sous piece. Then, as he was at last going off, he +inquired: "Won't you kiss me?" +</p> +<p> +She kissed him, but with cold lips and lifeless heart, and the two +smacking kisses which, with noisy affectation, he gave her in return, +left her cheeks quivering. +</p> +<p> +"And <i>au revoir</i>, eh?" said he. "Although one may be poor and +unable to keep together, each knows now that the other's in the land of +the living. And there is no reason why I shouldn't come up just now and +again to wish you good day when I'm passing." +</p> +<p> +When he had at last disappeared long silence fell amid the infinite +distress which his short stay had brought there. Norine had again sunk +upon a chair, as if overwhelmed by this catastrophe. Cécile had been +obliged to sit down in front of her, for she also was overcome. And it +was she who, amid the mournfulness of that room, which but a little while +ago had held all their happiness, spoke out the first to complain and +express her astonishment. +</p> +<p> +"But you did not ask him anything; we know nothing about him," said she. +"Where has he come from? What is he doing? What does he want? And, in +particular, how did he manage to discover you? These were the interesting +things to learn." +</p> +<p> +"Oh! what would you have!" replied Norine. "When he told me his name he +knocked all the strength out of me; I felt as cold as ice! Oh! it's he, +there's no doubt of it. You recognized his likeness to his father, didn't +you? But you are right; we know nothing, and now we shall always be +living with that threat over our heads, in fear that everything will +crumble down upon us." +</p> +<p> +All her strength, all her courage was gone, and she began to sob, +stammering indistinctly: "To think of it! a big fellow of eighteen +falling on one like that without a word of warning! And it's quite true +that I don't love him, since I don't even know him. When he kissed me I +felt nothing. I was icy cold, as if my heart were frozen. O God! O God! +what trouble to be sure, and how horrid and cruel it all is!" +</p> +<p> +Then, as her little boy, on seeing her weep, ran up and flung himself; +frightened and tearful, against her bosom, she wildly caught him in her +arms. "My poor little one! my poor little one! if only you don't suffer +by it; if only my sin doesn't fall on you! Ah! that would be a terrible +punishment. Really the best course is for folks to behave properly in +life if they don't want to have a lot of trouble afterwards!" +</p> +<p> +In the evening the sisters, having grown somewhat calmer, decided that +their best course would be to write to Mathieu. Norine remembered that he +had called on her a few years previously to ask if Alexandre had not been +to see her. He alone knew all the particulars of the business, and where +to obtain information. And, indeed, as soon as the sisters' letter +reached him Mathieu made haste to call on them in the Rue de la +Fédération, for he was anxious with respect to the effect which any +scandal might have at the works, where Beauchêne's position was becoming +worse every day. After questioning Norine at length, he guessed that +Alexandre must have learnt her address through La Couteau, though he +could not say precisely how this had come about. At last, after a long +month of discreet researches, conversations with Madame Menoux, Céleste, +and La Couteau herself, he was able in some measure to explain things. +The alert had certainly come from the inquiry intrusted to the +nurse-agent at Rougemont, that visit which she had made to the hamlet of +Saint-Pierre in quest of information respecting the lad who was supposed +to be in apprenticeship with Montoir the wheelwright. She had talked too +much, said too much, particularly to the other apprentice, that Richard, +another foundling, and one of such bad instincts, too, that seven months +later he had taken flight, like Alexandre, after purloining some money +from his master. Then years elapsed, and all trace of them was lost. But +later on, most assuredly they had met one another on the Paris pavement, +in such wise that the big carroty lad had told the little dark fellow the +whole story how his relatives had caused a search to be made for him, and +perhaps, too, who his mother was, the whole interspersed with +tittle-tattle and ridiculous inventions. Still this did not explain +everything, and to understand how Alexandre had procured his mother's +actual address, Mathieu had to presume that he had secured it from La +Couteau, whom Céleste had acquainted with so many things. Indeed, he +learnt at Broquette's nurse-agency that a short, thickset young man with +pronounced jaw-bones had come there twice to speak to La Couteau. +Nevertheless, many points remained unexplained; the whole affair had +taken place amid the tragic, murky gloom of Parisian low life, whose mire +it is not healthy to stir. Mathieu ended by resting content with a +general notion of the business, for he himself felt frightened at the +charges already hanging over those two young bandits, who lived so +precariously, dragging their idleness and their vices over the pavement +of the great city. And thus all his researches had resulted in but one +consoling certainty, which was that even if Norine the mother was known, +the father's name and position were certainly not suspected by anybody. +</p> +<p> +When Mathieu saw Norine again on the subject he terrified her by the few +particulars which he was obliged to give her. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! I beg you, I beg you, do not let him come again," she pleaded. "Find +some means; prevent him from coming here. It upsets me too dreadfully to +see him." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu, of course, could do nothing in this respect. After mature +reflection he realized that the great object of his efforts must be to +prevent Alexandre from discovering Beauchêne. What he had learnt of the +young man was so bad, so dreadful, that he wished to spare Constance the +pain and scandal of being blackmailed. He could see her blanching at the +thought of the ignominy of that lad whom she had so passionately desired +to find, and he felt ashamed for her sake, and deemed it more +compassionate and even necessary to bury the secret in the silence of the +grave. Still, it was only after a long fight with himself that he came to +this decision, for he felt that it was hard to have to abandon the +unhappy youth in the streets. Was it still possible to save him? He +doubted it. And besides, who would undertake the task, who would know how +to instil honest principles into that waif by teaching him to work? It +all meant yet another man cast overboard, forsaken amid the tempest, and +Mathieu's heart bled at the thought of condemning him, though he could +think of no reasonable means of salvation. +</p> +<p> +"My opinion," he said to Norine, "is that you should keep his father's +name from him for the present. Later on we will see. But just now I +should fear worry for everybody." +</p> +<p> +She eagerly acquiesced. "Oh! you need not be anxious," she responded. "I +have already told him that his father is dead. If I were to speak out +everything would fall on my shoulders, and my great desire is to be left +in peace in my corner with my little one." +</p> +<p> +With sorrowful mien Mathieu continued reflecting, unable to make up his +mind to utterly abandon the young man. "If he would only work, I would +find him some employment. And I would even take him on at the farm later, +when I should no longer have cause to fear that he might contaminate my +people. However, I will see what can be done; I know a wheelwright who +would doubtless employ him, and I will write to you in order that you may +tell him where to apply, when he comes back to see you." +</p> +<p> +"What? When he comes back!" she cried in despair. "So you think that he +will come back. O God! O God! I shall never be happy again." +</p> +<p> +He did, indeed, come back. But when she gave him the wheelwright's +address he sneered and shrugged his shoulders. He knew all about the +Paris wheelwrights! A set of sweaters, a parcel of lazy rogues, who made +poor people toil and moil for them. Besides, he had never finished his +apprenticeship; he was only fit for running errands, in which capacity he +was willing to accept a post in a large shop. When Mathieu had procured +him such a situation, he did not remain in it a fortnight. One fine +evening he disappeared with the parcels of goods which he had been told +to deliver. In turn he tried to learn a baker's calling, became a mason's +hodman, secured work at the markets, but without ever fixing himself +anywhere. He simply discouraged his protector, and left all sorts of +roguery behind him for others to liquidate. It became necessary to +renounce the hope of saving him. When he turned up, as he did +periodically, emaciated, hungry, and in rags, they had to limit +themselves to providing him with the means to buy a jacket and some +bread. +</p> +<p> +Thus Norine lived on in a state of mortal disquietude. For long weeks +Alexandre seemed to be dead, but she, nevertheless, started at the +slightest sound that she heard on the landing. She always felt him to be +there, and whenever he suddenly rapped on the door she recognized his +heavy knock and began to tremble as if he had come to beat her. He had +noticed how his presence reduced the unhappy woman to a state of abject +terror, and he profited by this to extract from her whatever little sums +she hid away. When she had handed him the five-franc piece which Mathieu, +as a rule, left with her for this purpose, the young rascal was not +content, but began searching for more. At times he made his appearance in +a wild, haggard state, declaring that he should certainly be sent to +prison that evening if he did not secure ten francs, and talking the +while of smashing everything in the room or else of carrying off the +little clock in order to sell it. And it was then necessary for Cécile to +intervene and turn him out of the place; for, however puny she might be, +she had a brave heart. But if he went off it was only to return a few +days later with fresh demands, threatening that he would shout his story +to everybody on the stairs if the ten francs were not given to him. One +day, when his mother had no money in the place and began to weep, he +talked of ripping up the mattress, where, said he, she probably kept her +hoard. Briefly, the sisters' little home was becoming a perfect hell. +</p> +<p> +The greatest misfortune of all, however, was that in the Rue de la +Fédération Alexandre made the acquaintance of Alfred, Norine's youngest +brother, the last born of the Moineaud family. He was then twenty, and +thus two years the senior of his nephew. No worse prowler than he +existed. He was the genuine rough, with pale, beardless face, blinking +eyes, and twisted mouth, the real gutter-weed that sprouts up amid the +Parisian manure-heaps. At seven years of age he robbed his sisters, +beating Cécile every Saturday in order to tear her earnings from her. +Mother Moineaud, worn out with hard work and unable to exercise a +constant watch over him, had never managed to make him attend school +regularly, or to keep him in apprenticeship. He exasperated her to such a +degree that she herself ended by turning him into the streets in order to +secure a little peace and quietness at home. His big brothers kicked him +about, his father was at work from morning till evening, and the child, +thus morally a waif, grew up out of doors for a career of vice and crime +among the swarms of lads and girls of his age, who all rotted there +together like apples fallen on the ground. And as Alfred grew he became +yet more corrupt; he was like the sacrificed surplus of a poor man's +family, the surplus poured into the gutter, the spoilt fruit which spoils +all that comes into contact with it. +</p> +<p> +Like Alexandre, too, he nowadays only lived chancewise, and it was not +even known where he had been sleeping, since Mother Moineaud had died at +a hospital exhausted by her long life of wretchedness and family cares +which had proved far too heavy for her. She was only sixty at the time of +her death, but was as bent and as worn out as a centenarian. Moineaud, +two years older, bent like herself, his legs twisted by paralysis, a +lamentable wreck after fifty years of unjust toil, had been obliged to +quit the factory, and thus the home was empty, and its few poor sticks +had been cast to the four winds of heaven. +</p> +<p> +Moineaud fortunately received a little pension, for which he was indebted +to Denis's compassionate initiative. But he was sinking into second +childhood, worn out by his long and constant efforts, and not only did he +squander his few coppers in drink, but he could not be left alone, for +his feet were lifeless, and his hands shook to such a degree that he ran +the risk of setting all about him on fire whenever he tried to light his +pipe. At last he found himself stranded in the home of his daughters, +Norine and Cécile, the only two who had heart enough to take him in. They +rented a little closet for him, on the fifth floor of the house, over +their own room, and they nursed him and bought him food and clothes with +his pension-money, to which they added a good deal of their own. As they +remarked in their gay, courageous way, they now had two children, a +little one and a very old one, which was a heavy burden for two women who +earned but five francs a day, although they were ever making boxes from +morn till night, There was a touch of soft irony in the circumstance that +old Moineaud should have been unable to find any other refuge than the +home of his daughter Norine—that daughter whom he had formerly turned +away and cursed for her misconduct, that hussy who had dishonored him, +but whose very hands he now kissed when, for fear lest he should set the +tip of his nose ablaze, she helped him to light his pipe. +</p> +<p> +All the same, the shaky old nest of the Moineauds was destroyed, and the +whole family had flown off, dispersed chancewise. Irma alone, thanks to +her fine marriage with a clerk, lived happily, playing the part of a +lady, and so full of vanity that she no longer condescended to see her +brothers and sisters. Victor, meantime, was leading at the factory much +the same life as his father had led, working at the same mill as the +other, and in the same blind, stubborn way. He had married, and though he +was under six-and-thirty, he already had six children, three boys and +three girls, so that his wife seemed fated to much the same existence as +his mother La Moineaude. Both of them would finish broken down, and their +children in their turn would unconsciously perpetuate the swarming and +accursed starveling race. +</p> +<p> +At Euphrasie's, destiny the inevitable showed itself more tragic still. +The wretched woman had not been lucky enough to die. She had gradually +become bedridden, quite unable to move, though she lived on and could +hear and see and understand things. From that open grave, her bed, she +had beheld the final break-up of what remained of her sorry home. She was +nothing more than a thing, insulted by her husband and tortured by Madame +Joseph, who would leave her for days together without water, and fling +her occasional crusts much as they might be flung to a sick animal whose +litter is not even changed. Terror-stricken, and full of humility amid +her downfall, Euphrasie resigned herself to everything; but the worst was +that her three children, her twin daughters and her son, being abandoned +to themselves, sank into vice, the all-corrupting life of the streets. +Bénard, tired out, distracted by the wreck of his home, had taken to +drinking with Madame Joseph; and afterwards they would fight together, +break the furniture, and drive off the children, who came home muddy, in +rags, and with their pockets full of stolen things. On two occasions +Bénard disappeared for a week at a time. On the third he did not come +back at all. When the rent fell due, Madame Joseph in her turn took +herself off. And then came the end. Euphrasie had to be removed to the +hospital of La Salpétrière, the last refuge of the aged and the infirm; +while the children, henceforth without a home in name, were driven into +the gutter. The boy never turned up again; it was as if he had been +swallowed by some sewer. One of the twin girls, found in the streets, +died in a hospital during the ensuing year; and the other, Toinette, a +fair-haired scraggy hussy, who, however puny she might look, was a +terrible little creature with the eyes and the teeth of a wolf, lived +under the bridges, in the depths of the stone quarries, in the dingy +garrets of haunts of vice, so that at sixteen she was already an expert +thief. Her fate was similar to Alfred's; here was a girl morally +abandoned, then contaminated by the life of the streets, and carried off +to a criminal career. And, indeed, the uncle and the niece having met by +chance, ended by consorting together, their favorite refuge, it was +thought, being the limekilns in the direction of Les Moulineaux. +</p> +<p> +One day then it happened that Alexandre upon calling at Norine's there +encountered Alfred, who came at times to try to extract a half-franc from +old Moineaud, his father. The two young bandits went off together, +chatted, and met again. And from that chance encounter there sprang a +band. Alexandre was living with Richard, and Alfred brought Toinette to +them. Thus they were four in number, and the customary developments +followed: begging at first, the girl putting out her hand at the +instigation of the three prowlers, who remained on the watch and drew +alms by force at nighttime from belated <i>bourgeois</i> encountered in +dark corners; next came vulgar vice and its wonted attendant, blackmail; +and then theft, petty larceny to begin with, the pilfering of things +displayed for sale by shopkeepers, and afterwards more serious affairs, +premeditated expeditions, mapped out like real war plans. +</p> +<p> +The band slept wherever it could; now in suspicious dingy doss-houses, +now on waste ground. In summer time there were endless saunters through +the woods of the environs, pending the arrival of night, which handed +Paris over to their predatory designs. They found themselves at the +Central Markets, among the crowds on the boulevards, in the low taverns, +along the deserted avenues—indeed, wherever they sniffed the +possibility of a stroke of luck, the chance of snatching the bread of +idleness, or the pleasures of vice. They were like a little clan of +savages on the war-path athwart civilization, living outside the pale of +the laws. They suggested young wild beasts beating the ancestral forest; +they typified the human animal relapsing into barbarism, forsaken since +birth, and evincing the ancient instincts of pillage and carnage. And +like noxious weeds they grew up sturdily, becoming bolder and bolder +each day, exacting a bigger and bigger ransom from the fools who toiled +and moiled, ever extending their thefts and marching along the road to +murder. +</p> +<p> +Never should it be forgotten that the child, born chancewise, and then +cast upon the pavement, without supervision, without prop or help, rots +there and becomes a terrible ferment of social decomposition. All those +little ones thrown to the gutter, like superfluous kittens are flung into +some sewer, all those forsaken ones, those wanderers of the pavement who +beg, and thieve, and indulge in vice, form the dung-heap in which the +worst crimes germinate. Childhood left to wretchedness breeds a fearful +nucleus of infection in the tragic gloom of the depths of Paris. Those +who are thus imprudently cast into the streets yield a harvest of +brigandage—that frightful harvest of evil which makes all society +totter. +</p> +<p> +When Norine, through the boasting of Alexandre and Alfred, who took +pleasure in astonishing her, began to suspect the exploits of the band, +she felt so frightened that she had a strong bolt placed upon her door. +And when night had fallen she no longer admitted any visitor until she +knew his name. Her torture had been lasting for nearly two years; she was +ever quivering with alarm at the thought of Alexandre rushing in upon her +some dark night. He was twenty now; he spoke authoritatively, and +threatened her with atrocious revenge whenever he had to retire with +empty hands. One day, in spite of Cécile, he threw himself upon the +wardrobe and carried off a bundle of linen, handkerchiefs, towels, +napkins, and sheets, intending to sell them. And the sisters did not dare +to pursue him down the stairs. Despairing, weeping, overwhelmed by it +all, they had sunk down upon their chairs. +</p> +<p> +That winter proved a very severe one; and the two poor workwomen, +pillaged in this fashion, would have perished in their sorry home of cold +and starvation, together with the dear child for whom they still did +their best, had it not been for the help which their old friend, Madame +Angelin, regularly brought them. She was still a lady-delegate of the +Poor Relief Service, and continued to watch over the children of unhappy +mothers in that terrible district of Grenelle, whose poverty is so great. +But for a long time past she had been unable to do anything officially +for Norine. If she still brought her a twenty-franc piece every month, it +was because charitable people intrusted her with fairly large amounts, +knowing that she could distribute them to advantage in the dreadful +inferno which her functions compelled her to frequent. She set her last +joy and found the great consolation of her desolate, childless life in +thus remitting alms to poor mothers whose little ones laughed at her +joyously as soon as they saw her arrive with her hands full of good +things. +</p> +<p> +One day when the weather was frightful, all rain and wind, Madame Angelin +lingered for a little while in Norine's room. It was barely two o'clock +in the afternoon, and she was just beginning her round. On her lap lay +her little bag, bulging out with the gold and the silver which she had to +distribute. Old Moineaud was there, installed on a chair and smoking his +pipe, in front of her. And she felt concerned about his needs, and +explained that she would have greatly liked to obtain a monthly relief +allowance for him. +</p> +<p> +"But if you only knew," she added, "what suffering there is among the +poor during these winter months. We are quite swamped, we cannot give to +everybody, there are too many. And after all you are among the fortunate +ones. I find some lying like dogs on the tiled floors of their rooms, +without a scrap of coal to make a fire or even a potato to eat. And the +poor children, too, good Heavens! Children in heaps among vermin, without +shoes, without clothes, all growing up as if destined for prison or the +scaffold, unless consumption should carry them off." +</p> +<p> +Madame Angelin quivered and closed her eyes as if to escape the spectacle +of all the terrifying things that she evoked, the wretchedness, the +shame, the crimes that she elbowed during her continual perambulations +through that hell of poverty, vice, and hunger. She often returned home +pale and silent, having reached the uttermost depths of human +abomination, and never daring to say all. At times she trembled and +raised her eyes to Heaven, wondering what vengeful cataclysm would +swallow up that accursed city of Paris. +</p> +<p> +"Ah!" she murmured once more; "their sufferings are so great, may their +sins be forgiven them." +</p> +<p> +Moineaud listened to her in a state of stupor, as if he were unable to +understand. At last with difficulty he succeeded in taking his pipe from +his mouth. It was, indeed, quite an effort now for him to do such a +thing, and yet for fifty years he had wrestled with iron—iron in the +vice or on the anvil. +</p> +<p> +"There is nothing like good conduct," he stammered huskily. "When a man +works he's rewarded." +</p> +<p> +Then he wished to set his pipe between his lips once more, but was unable +to do so. His hand, deformed by the constant use of tools, trembled too +violently. So it became necessary for Norine to rise from her chair and +help him. +</p> +<p> +"Poor father!" exclaimed Cécile, who had not ceased working, cutting out +the cardboard for the little boxes she made: "What would have become of +him if we had not given him shelter? It isn't Irma, with her stylish hats +and her silk dresses who would have cared to have him at her place." +</p> +<p> +Meantime Norine's little boy had taken his stand in front of Madame +Angelin, for he knew very well that, on the days when the good lady +called, there was some dessert at supper in the evening. He smiled at her +with the bright eyes which lit up his pretty fair face, crowned with +tumbled sunshiny hair. And when she noticed with what a merry glance he +was waiting for her to open her little bag, she felt quite moved. +</p> +<p> +"Come and kiss me, my little friend," said she. +</p> +<p> +She knew no sweeter reward for all that she did than the kisses of the +children in the poor homes whither she brought a little joy. When the +youngster had boldly thrown his arms round her neck, her eyes filled with +tears; and, addressing herself to his mother, she repeated: "No, no, you +must not complain; there are others who are more unhappy than you. I know +one who if this pretty little fellow could only be her own would +willingly accept your poverty, and paste boxes together from morning till +night and lead a recluse's life in this one room, which he suffices to +fill with sunshine. Ah! good Heavens, if you were only willing, if we +could only change." +</p> +<p> +For a moment she became silent, afraid that she might burst into sobs. +The wound dealt her by her childlessness had always remained open. She +and her husband were now growing old in bitter solitude in three little +rooms overlooking a courtyard in the Rue de Lille. In this retirement +they subsisted on the salary which she, the wife, received as a +lady-delegate, joined to what they had been able to save of their +original fortune. The former fan-painter of triumphant mien was now +completely blind, a mere thing, a poor suffering thing, whom his wife +seated every morning in an armchair where she still found him in the +evening when she returned home from her incessant peregrinations through +the frightful misery of guilty mothers and martyred children. He could no +longer eat, he could no longer go to bed without her help, he had only +her left him, he was her child as he would say at times with a despairing +irony which made them both weep. +</p> +<p> +A child? Ah, yes! she had ended by having one, and it was he! An old +child, born of disaster; one who appeared to be eighty though he was less +than fifty years old, and who amid his black and ceaseless night ever +dreamt of sunshine during the long hours which he was compelled to spend +alone. And Madame Angelin did not only envy that poor workwoman her +little boy, she also envied her that old man smoking his pipe yonder, +that infirm relic of labor who at all events saw clearly and still lived. +</p> +<p> +"Don't worry the lady," said Norine to her son; for she felt anxious, +quite moved indeed, at seeing the other so disturbed, with her heart so +full. "Run away and play." +</p> +<p> +She had learnt a little of Madame Angelin's sad story from Mathieu. And +with the deep gratitude which she felt towards her benefactress was +blended a sort of impassioned respect, which rendered her timid and +deferent each time that she saw her arrive, tall and distinguished, ever +clad in black, and showing the remnants of her former beauty which sorrow +had wrecked already, though she was barely six-and-forty years of age. +For Norine, the lady-delegate was like some queen who had fallen from her +throne amid frightful and undeserved sufferings. +</p> +<p> +"Run away, go and play, my darling," Norine repeated to her boy: "you are +tiring madame." +</p> +<p> +"Tiring me, oh no!" exclaimed Madame Angelin, conquering her emotion. "On +the contrary, he does me good. Kiss me, kiss me again, my pretty fellow." +</p> +<p> +Then she began to bestir and collect herself. +</p> +<p> +"Well, it is getting late, and I have so many places to go to between now +and this evening! This is what I can do for you." +</p> +<p> +She was at last taking a gold coin from her little bag, but at that very +moment a heavy blow, as if dealt by a fist, resounded on the door. And +Norine turned ghastly pale, for she had recognized Alexandre's brutal +knock. What could she do? If she did not open the door, the bandit would +go on knocking, and raise a scandal. She was obliged to open it, but +things did not take the violent tragical turn which she had feared. +Surprised at seeing a lady there, Alexandre did not even open his mouth. +He simply slipped inside, and stationed himself bolt upright against the +wall. The lady-delegate had raised her eyes and then carried them +elsewhere, understanding that this young fellow must be some friend, +probably some relative. And without thought of concealment, she went on: +</p> +<p> +"Here are twenty francs, I can't do more. Only I promise you that I will +try to double the amount next month. It will be the rent month, and I've +already applied for help on all sides, and people have promised to give +me the utmost they can. But shall I ever have enough? So many +applications are made to me." +</p> +<p> +Her little bag had remained open on her knees, and Alexandre, with his +glittering eyes, was searching it, weighing in fancy all the treasure of +the poor that it contained, all the gold and silver and even the copper +money that distended its sides. Still in silence, he watched Madame +Angelin as she closed it, slipped its little chain round her wrist, and +then finally rose from her chair. +</p> +<p> +"Well, <i>au revoir</i>, till next month then," she resumed. "I shall +certainly call on the 5th; and in all probability I shall begin my round +with you. But it's possible that it may be rather late in the afternoon, +for it happens to be my poor husband's name-day. And so be brave and +work well." +</p> +<p> +Norine and Cécile had likewise risen, in order to escort her to the door. +Here again there was an outpouring of gratitude, and the child once more +kissed the good lady on both cheeks with all his little heart. The +sisters, so terrified by Alexandre's arrival, at last began to breathe +again. +</p> +<p> +In point of fact the incident terminated fairly well, for the young man +showed himself accommodating. When Cécile returned from obtaining change +for the gold, he contented himself with taking one of the four five-franc +pieces which she brought up with her. And he did not tarry to torture +them as was his wont, but immediately went off with the money he had +levied, whistling the while the air of a hunting-song. +</p> +<p> +The 5th of the ensuing month, a Saturday, was one of the gloomiest, most +rainy days of that wretched, mournful winter. Darkness fell rapidly +already at three o'clock in the afternoon, and it became almost night. At +the deserted end of Rue de la Fédération there was an expanse of waste +ground, a building site, for long years enclosed by a fence, which +dampness had ended by rotting. Some of the boards were missing, and at +one part there was quite a breach. All through that afternoon, in spite +of the constantly recurring downpours, a scraggy girl remained stationed +near that breach, wrapped to her eyes in the ragged remnants of an old +shawl, doubtless for protection against the cold. She seemed to be +waiting for some chance meeting, the advent it might be of some +charitably disposed wayfarer. And her impatience was manifest, for while +keeping close to the fence like some animal lying in wait, she +continually peered through the breach, thrusting out her tapering +weasel's head and watching yonder, in the direction of the Champ de Mars. +</p> +<p> +Hours went by, three o'clock struck, and then such dark clouds rolled +over the livid sky, that the girl herself became blurred, obscured, as if +she were some mere piece of wreckage cast into the darkness. At times she +raised her head and watched the sky darken, with eyes that glittered as +if to thank it for throwing so dense a gloom over that deserted corner, +that spot so fit for an ambuscade. And just as the rain had once more +begun to fall, a lady could be seen approaching, a lady clad in black, +quite black, under an open umbrella. While seeking to avoid the puddles +in her path, she walked on quickly, like one in a hurry, who goes about +her business on foot in order to save herself the expense of a cab. +</p> +<p> +From some precise description which she had obtained, Toinette, the girl, +appeared to recognize this lady from afar off. She was indeed none other +than Madame Angelin, coming quickly from the Rue de Lille, on her way to +the homes of her poor, with the little chain of her little bag encircling +her wrist. And when the girl espied the gleaming steel of that little +chain, she no longer had any doubts, but whistled softly. And forthwith +cries and moans arose from a dim corner of the vacant ground, while she +herself began to wail and call distressfully. +</p> +<p> +Astonished, disturbed by it all, Madame Angelin stopped short. +</p> +<p> +"What is the matter, my girl?" she asked. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! madame, my brother has fallen yonder and broken his leg." +</p> +<p> +"What, fallen? What has he fallen from?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh! madame, there's a shed yonder where we sleep, because we haven't any +home, and he was using an old ladder to try to prevent the rain from +pouring in on us, and he fell and broke his leg." +</p> +<p> +Thereupon the girl burst into sobs, asking what was to become of them, +stammering that she had been standing there in despair for the last ten +minutes, but could see nobody to help them, which was not surprising with +that terrible rain falling and the cold so bitter. And while she +stammered all this, the calls for help and the cries of pain became +louder in the depths of the waste ground. +</p> +<p> +Though Madame Angelin was terribly upset, she nevertheless hesitated, as +if distrustful. +</p> +<p> +"You must run to get a doctor, my poor child," said she, "I can do +nothing." +</p> +<p> +"Oh! but you can, madame; come with me, I pray you. I don't know where +there's a doctor to be found. Come with me, and we will pick him up, for +I can't manage it by myself; and at all events we can lay him in the +shed, so that the rain sha'n't pour down on him." +</p> +<p> +This time the good woman consented, so truthful did the girl's accents +seem to be. Constant visits to the vilest dens, where crime sprouted from +the dunghill of poverty, had made Madame Angelin brave. She was obliged +to close her umbrella when she glided through the breach in the fence in +the wake of the girl, who, slim and supple like a cat, glided on in +front, bareheaded, in her ragged shawl. +</p> +<p> +"Give me your hand, madame," said she. "Take care, for there are some +trenches.... It's over yonder at the end. Can you hear how he's +moaning, poor brother?... Ah! here we are!" +</p> +<p> +Then came swift and overwhelming savagery. The three bandits, Alexandre, +Richard, and Alfred, who had been crouching low, sprang forward and threw +themselves upon Madame Angelin with such hungry, wolfish violence that +she was thrown to the ground. Alfred, however, being a coward, then left +her to the two others, and hastened with Toinette to the breach in order +to keep watch. Alexandre, who had a handkerchief rolled up, all ready, +thrust it into the poor lady's mouth to stifle her cries. Their intention +was to stun her only and then make off with her little bag. +</p> +<p> +But the handkerchief must have slipped out, for she suddenly raised a +shriek, a loud and terrible shriek. And at that moment the others near +the breach gave the alarm whistle: some people were, doubtless, drawing +near. It was necessary to finish. Alexandre knotted the handkerchief +round the unhappy woman's neck, while Richard with his fist forced her +shriek back into her throat. Red madness fell upon them, they both began +to twist and tighten the handkerchief, and dragged the poor creature over +the muddy ground until she stirred no more. Then, as the whistle sounded +again, they took the bag, left the body there with the handkerchief +around the neck, and galloped, all four of them, as far as the Grenelle +bridge, whence they flung the bag into the Seine, after greedily +thrusting the coppers, and the white silver, and the yellow gold into +their pockets. +</p> +<p> +When Mathieu read the particulars of the crime in the newspapers, he was +seized with fright and hastened to the Rue de la Fédération. The murdered +woman had been promptly identified, and the circumstance that the crime +had been committed on that plot of vacant ground but a hundred yards or +so from the house where Norine and Cécile lived upset him, filled him +with a terrible presentiment. And he immediately realized that his fears +were justified when he had to knock three times at Norine's door before +Cécile, having recognized his voice, removed the articles with which it +had been barricaded, and admitted him inside. Norine was in bed, quite +ill, and as white as her sheets. She began to sob and shuddered +repeatedly as she told him the story: Madame Angelin's visit the previous +month, and the sudden arrival of Alexandre, who had seen the bag and had +heard the promise of further help, at a certain hour on a certain date. +Besides, Norine could have no doubts, for the handkerchief found round +the victim's neck was one of hers which Alexandre had stolen: a +handkerchief embroidered with the initial letters of her Christian name, +one of those cheap fancy things which are sold by thousands at the big +linendrapery establishments. That handkerchief, too, was the only clew to +the murderers, and it was such a very vague one that the police were +still vainly seeking the culprits, quite lost amid a variety of scents +and despairing of success. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu sat near the bed listening to Norine and feeling icy cold. Good +God! that poor, unfortunate Madame Angelin! He could picture her in her +younger days, so gay and bright over yonder at Janville, roaming the +woods there in the company of her husband, the pair of them losing +themselves among the deserted paths, and lingering in the discreet shade +of the pollard willows beside the Yeuse, where their love kisses sounded +beneath the branches like the twittering of song birds. And he could +picture her at a later date, already too severely punished for her lack +of foresight, in despair at remaining childless, and bowed down with +grief as by slow degrees her husband became blind, and night fell upon +the little happiness yet left to them. And all at once Mathieu also +pictured that wretched blind man, on the evening when he vainly awaited +the return of his wife, in order that she might feed him and put him to +bed, old child that he was, now motherless, forsaken, forever alone in +his dark night, in which he could only see the bloody spectre of his +murdered helpmate. Ah! to think of it, so bright a promise of radiant +life, followed by such destiny, such death! +</p> +<p> +"We did right," muttered Mathieu, as his thoughts turned to Constance, +"we did right to keep that ruffian in ignorance of his father's name. +What a terrible thing! We must bury the secret as deeply as possible +within us." +</p> +<p> +Norine shuddered once more. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! have no fear," she answered, "I would die rather than speak." +</p> +<p> +Months, years, flowed by; and never did the police discover the murderers +of the lady with the little bag. For years, too, Norine shuddered every +time that anybody knocked too roughly at her door. But Alexandre did not +reappear there. He doubtless feared that corner of the Rue de la +Fédération, and remained as it were submerged in the dim unsoundable +depths of the ocean of Paris. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="XX">XX</a></h4> + +<p> +DURING the ten years which followed, the vigorous sprouting of the +Froments, suggestive of some healthy vegetation of joy and strength, +continued in and around the ever and ever richer domain of Chantebled. As +the sons and the daughters grew up there came fresh marriages, and more +and more children, all the promised crop, all the promised swarming of a +race of conquerors. +</p> +<p> +First it was Gervais who married Caroline Boucher, daughter of a big +farmer of the region, a fair, fine-featured, gay, strong girl, one of +those superior women born to rule over a little army of servants. On +leaving a Parisian boarding-school she had been sensible enough to feel +no shame of her family's connection with the soil. Indeed she loved the +earth and had set herself to win from it all the sterling happiness of +her life. By way of dowry she brought an expanse of meadow-land in the +direction of Lillebonne, which enlarged the estate by some seventy acres. +But she more particularly brought her good humor, her health, her courage +in rising early, in watching over the farmyard, the dairy, the whole +home, like an energetic active housewife, who was ever bustling about, +and always the last to bed. +</p> +<p> +Then came the turn of Claire, whose marriage with Frédéric Berthaud, long +since foreseen, ended by taking place. There were tears of soft emotion, +for the memory of her whom Berthaud had loved and whom he was to have +married disturbed several hearts on the wedding day when the family +skirted the little cemetery of Janville as it returned to the farm from +the municipal offices. But, after all, did not that love of former days, +that faithful fellow's long affection, which in time had become +transferred to the younger sister, constitute as it were another link in +the ties which bound him to the Froments? He had no fortune, he brought +with him only his constant faithfulness, and the fraternity which had +sprung up between himself and Gervais during the many seasons when they +had ploughed the estate like a span of tireless oxen drawing the same +plough. His heart was one that could never be doubted, he was the helper +who had become indispensable, the husband whose advent would mean the +best of all understandings and absolute certainty of happiness. +</p> +<p> +From the day of that wedding the government of the farm was finally +settled. Though Mathieu was barely five-and-fifty he abdicated, and +transferred his authority to Gervais, that son of the earth as with a +laugh he often called him, the first of his children born at Chantebled, +the one who had never left the farm, and who had at all times given him +the support of his arm and his brain and his heart. And now Frédéric in +turn would think and strive as Gervais's devoted lieutenant, in the great +common task. Between them henceforth they would continue the father's +work, and perfect the system of culture, procuring appliances of new +design from the Beauchêne works, now ruled by Denis, and ever drawing +from the soil the largest crops that it could be induced to yield. Their +wives had likewise divided their share of authority; Claire surrendered +the duties of supervision to Caroline, who was stronger and more active +than herself, and was content to attend to the accounts, the turnover of +considerable sums of money, all that was paid away and all that was +received. The two couples seemed to have been expressly and cleverly +selected to complete one another and to accomplish the greatest sum of +work without ever the slightest fear of conflict. And, indeed, they lived +in perfect union, with only one will among them, one purpose which was +ever more and more skilfully effected—the continual increase of the +happiness and wealth of Chantebled under the beneficent sun. +</p> +<p> +At the same time, if Mathieu had renounced the actual exercise of +authority, he none the less remained the creator, the oracle who was +consulted, listened to, and obeyed. He dwelt with Marianne in the old +shooting-box which had been transformed and enlarged into a very +comfortable house. Here they lived like the founders of a dynasty who +had retired in full glory, setting their only delight in beholding +around them the development and expansion of their race, the birth and +growth of their children's children. Leaving Claire and Gervais on one +side, there were as yet only Denis and Ambroise—the first to wing +their flight abroad—engaged in building up their fortunes in +Paris. The three girls, Louise, Madeleine, and Marguerite, who would +soon be old enough to marry, still dwelt in the happy home beside their +parents, as well as the three youngest boys, Grégoire, the free lance, +Nicolas, the most stubborn and determined of the brood, and Benjamin, +who was of a dreamy nature. All these finished growing up at the edge of +the nest, so to say, with the window of life open before them, ready for +the day when they likewise would take wing. +</p> +<p> +With them dwelt Charlotte, Blaise's widow, and her two children, Berthe +and Guillaume, the three of them occupying an upper floor of the house +where the mother had installed her studio. She was becoming rich since +her little share in the factory profits, stipulated by Denis, had been +increasing year by year; but nevertheless, she continued working for her +dealer in miniatures. This work brought her pocket-money, she gayly said, +and would enable her to make her children a present whenever they might +marry. There was, indeed, already some thought of Berthe marrying; and +assuredly she would be the first of Mathieu and Marianne's grandchildren +to enter into the state of matrimony. They smiled softly at the idea of +becoming great-grandparents before very long perhaps. +</p> +<p> +After the lapse of four years, Grégoire, first of the younger children, +flew away. There was a great deal of trouble, quite a little drama in +connection with the affair, which Mathieu and Marianne had for some time +been anticipating. Grégoire was anything but reasonable. Short, but +robust, with a pert face in which glittered the brightest of eyes, he had +always been the turbulent member of the family, the one who caused the +most anxiety. His childhood had been spent in playing truant in the woods +of Janville, and he had afterwards made a mere pretence of studying in +Paris, returning home full of health and spirits, but unable or unwilling +to make up his mind with respect to any particular trade or profession. +Already four-and-twenty, he knew little more than how to shoot and fish, +and trot about the country on horseback. He was certainly not more stupid +or less active than another, but he seemed bent on living and amusing +himself according to his fancy. The worst was that for some months past +all the gossips of Janville had been relating that he had renewed his +former boyish friendship with Thérèse Lepailleur, the miller's daughter, +and that they were to be met of an evening in shady nooks under the +pollard-willows by the Yeuse. +</p> +<p> +One morning Mathieu, wishing to ascertain if the young coveys of +partridges were plentiful in the direction of Mareuil, took Grégoire with +him; and when they found themselves alone among the plantations of the +plateau, he began to talk to him seriously. +</p> +<p> +"You know I'm not pleased with you, my lad," said he. "I really cannot +understand the idle life which you lead here, while all the rest of us +are hard at work. I shall wait till October since you have positively +promised me that you will then come to a decision and choose the calling +which you most fancy. But what is all this tittle-tattle which I hear +about appointments which you keep with the daughter of the Lepailleurs? +Do you wish to cause us serious worry?" +</p> +<p> +Grégoire quietly began to laugh. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, father! You are surely not going to scold a son of yours because he +happens to be on friendly terms with a pretty girl! Why, as you may +remember, it was I who gave her her first bicycle lesson nearly ten years +ago. And you will recollect the fine white roses which she helped me to +secure in the enclosure by the mill for Denis' wedding." +</p> +<p> +Grégoire still laughed at the memory of that incident, and lived afresh +through all his old time sweethearting—the escapades with +Thérèse along the river banks, and the banquets of blackberries in +undiscoverable hiding-places, deep in the woods. And it seemed, too, +that the love of childhood had revived, and was now bursting into +consuming fire, so vividly did his cheeks glow, and so hotly did his +eyes blaze as he thus recalled those distant times. +</p> +<p> +"Poor Thérèse! We had been at daggers drawn for years, and all because +one evening, on coming back from the fair at Vieux-Bourg, I pushed her +into a pool of water where she dirtied her frock. It's true that last +spring we made it up again on finding ourselves face to face in the +little wood at Monval over yonder. But come, father, do you mean to say +that it's a crime if we take a little pleasure in speaking to one another +when we meet?" +</p> +<p> +Rendered the more anxious by the fire with which Grégoire sought to +defend the girl, Mathieu spoke out plainly. +</p> +<p> +"A crime? No, if you just wish one another good day and good evening. +Only folks relate that you are to be seen at dusk with your arms round +each other's waist, and that you go stargazing through the grass +alongside the Yeuse." +</p> +<p> +Then, as Grégoire this time without replying laughed yet more loudly, +with the merry laugh of youth, his father gravely resumed: +</p> +<p> +"Listen, my lad, it is not at all to my taste to play the gendarme behind +my sons. But I won't have you drawing some unpleasant business with the +Lepailleurs on us all. You know the position, they would be delighted to +give us trouble. So don't give them occasion for complaining, leave their +daughter alone." +</p> +<p> +"Oh! I take plenty of care," cried the young man, thus suddenly +confessing the truth. "Poor girl! She has already had her ears boxed +because somebody told her father that I had been met with her. He +answered that rather than give her to me he would throw her into the +river." +</p> +<p> +"Ah! you see," concluded Mathieu. "It is understood, is it not? I shall +rely on your good behavior." +</p> +<p> +Thereupon they went their way, scouring the fields as far as the road to +Mareuil. Coveys of young partridges, still weak on the wing, started up +both to the right and to the left. The shooting would be good. Then as +the father and the son turned homeward, slackening their pace, a long +spell of silence fell between them. They were both reflecting. +</p> +<p> +"I don't wish that there should be any misunderstanding between us," +Mathieu suddenly resumed; "you must not imagine that I shall prevent you +from marrying according to your tastes and that I shall require you to +take an heiress. Our poor Blaise married a portionless girl. And it was +the same with Denis; besides which I gave your sister, Claire, in +marriage to Frédéric, who was simply one of our farm hands. So I don't +look down on Thérèse. On the contrary, I think her charming. She's one of +the prettiest girls of the district—not tall, certainly, but so alert +and determined, with her little pink face shining under such a wild crop +of fair hair, that one might think her powdered with all the flour in the +mill." +</p> +<p> +"Yes, isn't that so, father?" interrupted Grégoire enthusiastically. "And +if you only knew how affectionate and courageous she is! She's worth a +man any day. It's wrong of them to smack her, for she will never put up +with it. Whenever she sets her mind on anything she's bound to do it, and +it isn't I who can prevent her." +</p> +<p> +Absorbed in some reflections of his own, Mathieu scarcely heard his son. +</p> +<p> +"No, no," he resumed; "I certainly don't look down on their mill. If it +were not for Lepailleur's stupid obstinacy he would be drawing a fortune +from that mill nowadays. Since corn-growing has again been taken up all +over the district, thanks to our victory, he might have got a good pile +of crowns together if he had simply changed the old mechanism of his +wheel which he leaves rotting under the moss. And better still, I should +like to see a good engine there, and a bit of a light railway line +connecting the mill with Janville station." +</p> +<p> +In this fashion he continued explaining his ideas while Grégoire +listened, again quite lively and taking things in a jesting way. +</p> +<p> +"Well, father," the young man ended by saying, "as you wish that I should +have a calling, it's settled. If I marry Thérèse, I'll be a miller." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu protested in surprise: "No, no, I was merely talking. And +besides, you have promised me, my lad, that you will be reasonable. So +once again, for the sake of the peace and quietness of all of us, leave +Thérèse alone, for we can only expect to reap worry with the +Lepailleurs." +</p> +<p> +The conversation ceased and they returned to the farm. That evening, +however, the father told the mother of the young man's confession, and +she, who already entertained various misgivings, felt more anxious than +ever. Still a month went by without anything serious happening. +</p> +<p> +Then, one morning Marianne was astounded at finding Grégoire's bedroom +empty. As a rule he came to kiss her. Perhaps he had risen early, and had +gone on some excursion in the environs. But she trembled slightly when +she remembered how lovingly he had twice caught her in his arms on the +previous night when they were all retiring to bed. And as she looked +inquisitively round the room she noticed on the mantelshelf a letter +addressed to her—a prettily worded letter in which the young fellow +begged her to forgive him for causing her grief, and asked her to excuse +him with his father, for it was necessary that he should leave them for a +time. Of his reasons for doing so and his purpose, however, no +particulars were given. +</p> +<p> +This family rending, this bad conduct on the part of the son who had been +the most spoilt of all, and who, in a fit of sudden folly was the first +to break the ties which united the household together, was a very painful +blow for Marianne and Mathieu. They were the more terrified since they +divined that Grégoire had not gone off alone. They pieced together the +incidents of the deplorable affair. Charlotte remembered that she had +heard Grégoire go downstairs again, almost immediately after entering his +bedroom, and before the servants had even bolted the house-doors for the +night. He had certainly rushed off to join Thérèse in some coppice, +whence they must have hurried away to Vieux-Bourg station which the last +train to Paris quitted at five-and-twenty minutes past midnight. And it +was indeed this which had taken place. At noon the Froments already +learnt that Lepailleur was creating a terrible scandal about the flight +of Thérèse. He had immediately gone to the gendarmes to shout the story +to them, and demand that they should bring the guilty hussy back, chained +to her accomplice, and both of them with gyves about their wrists. +</p> +<p> +He on his side had found a letter in his daughter's bedroom, a plucky +letter in which she plainly said that as she had been struck again the +previous day, she had had enough of it, and was going off of her own free +will. Indeed, she added that she was taking Grégoire with her, and was +quite big and old enough, now that she was two-and-twenty, to know what +she was about. Lepailleur's fury was largely due to this letter which he +did not dare to show abroad; besides which, his wife, ever at war with +him respecting their son Antonin, not only roundly abused Thérèse, but +sneeringly declared that it might all have been expected, and that he, +the father, was the cause of the gad-about's misconduct. After that, they +engaged in fisticuffs; and for a whole week the district did nothing but +talk about the flight of one of the Chantebled lads with the girl of the +mill, to the despair of Mathieu and Marianne, the latter of whom in +particular grieved over the sorry business. +</p> +<p> +Five days later, a Sunday, matters became even worse. As the search for +the runaways remained fruitless Lepailleur, boiling over with rancor, +went up to the farm, and from the middle of the road—for he did +not venture inside—poured forth a flood of ignoble insults. It so +happened that Mathieu was absent; and Marianne had great trouble to +restrain Gervais as well as Frédéric, both of whom wished to thrust +the miller's scurrilous language back into his throat. When Mathieu came +home in the evening he was extremely vexed to hear of what had happened. +</p> +<p> +"It is impossible for this state of things to continue," he said to his +wife, as they were retiring to rest. "It looks as if we were hiding, as +if we were guilty in the matter. I will go to see that man in the +morning. There is only one thing, and a very simple one, to be done, +those unhappy children must be married. For our part we consent, is it +not so? And it is to that man's advantage to consent also. To-morrow the +matter must be settled." +</p> +<p> +On the following day, Monday, at two o'clock in the afternoon, Mathieu +set out for the mill. But certain complications, a tragic drama, which he +could not possibly foresee, awaited him there. For years now a stubborn +struggle had been going on between Lepailleur and his wife with respect +to Antonin. While the farmer had grown more and more exasperated with his +son's idleness and life of low debauchery in Paris, the latter had +supported her boy with all the obstinacy of an illiterate woman, who was +possessed of a blind faith in his fine handwriting, and felt convinced +that if he did not succeed in life it was simply because he was refused +the money necessary for that purpose. In spite of her sordid avarice in +some matters, the old woman continued bleeding herself for her son, and +even robbed the house, promptly thrusting out her claws and setting her +teeth ready to bite whenever she was caught in the act, and had to defend +some twenty-franc piece or other, which she had been on the point of +sending away. And each time the battle began afresh, to such a point +indeed that it seemed as if the shaky old mill would some day end by +falling on their heads. +</p> +<p> +Then, all at once, Antonin, a perfect wreck at thirty-six years of age, +fell seriously ill. Lepailleur forthwith declared that if the scamp had +the audacity to come home he would pitch him over the wheel into the +water. Antonin, however, had no desire to return home; he held the +country in horror and feared, too, that his father might chain him up +like a dog. So his mother placed him with some people of Batignolles, +paying for his board and for the attendance of a doctor of the district. +This had been going on for three months or so, and every fortnight La +Lepailleur went to see her son. She had done so the previous Thursday, +and on the Sunday evening she received a telegram summoning her to +Batignolles again. Thus, on the morning of the day when Mathieu repaired +to the mill, she had once more gone to Paris after a frightful quarrel +with her husband, who asked if their good-for-nothing son ever meant to +cease fooling them and spending their money, when he had not the courage +even to turn a spit of earth. +</p> +<p> +Alone in the mill that morning Lepailleur did not cease storming. At the +slightest provocation he would have hammered his plough to pieces, or +have rushed, axe in hand, and mad with hatred, on the old wheel by way of +avenging his misfortunes. When he saw Mathieu come in he believed in some +act of bravado, and almost choked. +</p> +<p> +"Come, neighbor," said the master of Chantebled cordially, "let us both +try to be reasonable. I've come to return your visit, since you called +upon me yesterday. Only, bad words never did good work, and the best +course, since this misfortune has happened, is to repair it as speedily +as possible. When would you have us marry off those bad children?" +</p> +<p> +Thunderstruck by the quiet good nature of this frontal attack, Lepailleur +did not immediately reply. He had shouted over the house roofs that he +would have no marriage at all, but rather a good lawsuit by way of +sending all the Froments to prison. Nevertheless, when it came to +reflection, a son of the big farmer of Chantebled was not to be disdained +as a son-in-law. +</p> +<p> +"Marry them, marry them," he stammered at the first moment. "Yes, by +fastening a big stone to both their necks and throwing them together into +the river. Ah! the wretches! I'll skin them, I will, her as well as him." +</p> +<p> +At last, however, the miller grew calmer and was even showing a +disposition to discuss matters, when all at once an urchin of Janville +came running across the yard. +</p> +<p> +"What do you want, eh?" called the master of the premises. +</p> +<p> +"Please, Monsieur Lepailleur, it's a telegram." +</p> +<p> +"All right, give it here." +</p> +<p> +The lad, well pleased with the copper he received as a gratuity, had +already gone off, and still the miller, instead of opening the telegram, +stood examining the address on it with the distrustful air of a man who +does not often receive such communications. However, he at last had to +tear it open. It contained but three words: "Your son dead"; and in that +brutal brevity, that prompt, hasty bludgeon-blow, one could detect the +mother's cold rage and eager craving to crush without delay the man, the +father yonder, whom she accused of having caused her son's death, even as +she had accused him of being responsible for her daughter's flight. He +felt this full well, and staggered beneath the shock, stunned by the +words that appeared on that strip of blue paper, reading them again and +again till he ended by understanding them. Then his hands began to +tremble and he burst into oaths. +</p> +<p> +"Thunder and blazes! What again is this? Here's the boy dying now! +Everything's going to the devil!" +</p> +<p> +But his heart dilated and tears appeared in his eyes. Unable to remain +standing, he sank upon a chair and again obstinately read the telegram; +"Your son dead—Your son dead," as if seeking something else, the +particulars, indeed, which the message did not contain. Perhaps the boy +had died before his mother's arrival. Or perhaps she had arrived just +before he died. Such were his stammered comments. And he repeated a score +of times that she had taken the train at ten minutes past eleven and must +have reached Batignolles about half-past twelve. As she had handed in the +telegram at twenty minutes past one it seemed more likely that she had +found the lad already dead. +</p> +<p> +"Curse it! curse it!" he shouted; "a cursed telegram, it tells you +nothing, and it murders you! She might, at all events, have sent +somebody. I shall have to go there. Ah the whole thing's complete, it's +more than a man can bear!" +</p> +<p> +Lepailleur shouted those words in such accents of rageful despair that +Mathieu, full of compassion, made bold to intervene. The sudden shock of +the tragedy had staggered him, and he had hitherto waited in silence. But +now he offered his services and spoke of accompanying the other to Paris. +He had to retreat, however, for the miller rose to his feet, seized with +wild exasperation at perceiving him still there in his house. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! yes, you came; and what was it you were saying to me? That we ought +to marry off those wretched children? Well, you can see that I'm in +proper trim for a wedding! My boy's dead! You've chosen your day well. Be +off with you, be off with you, I say, if you don't want me to do +something dreadful!" +</p> +<p> +He raised his fists, quite maddened as he was by the presence of Mathieu +at that moment when his whole life was wrecked. It was terrible indeed +that this <i>bourgeois</i> who had made a fortune by turning himself into a +peasant should be there at the moment when he so suddenly learnt the +death of Antonin, that son whom he had dreamt of turning into a Monsieur +by filling his mind with disgust of the soil and sending him to rot of +idleness and vice in Paris! It enraged him to find that he had erred, +that the earth whom he had slandered, whom he had taxed with decrepitude +and barrenness was really a living, youthful, and fruitful spouse to the +man who knew how to love her! And nought but ruin remained around him, +thanks to his imbecile resolve to limit his family: a foul life had +killed his only son, and his only daughter had gone off with a scion of +the triumphant farm, while he was now utterly alone, weeping and howling +in his deserted mill, that mill which he had likewise disdained and which +was crumbling around him with old age. +</p> +<p> +"You hear me!" he shouted. "Thérèse may drag herself at my feet; but I +will never, never give her to your thief of a son! You'd like it, +wouldn't you? so that folks might mock me all over the district, and so +that you might eat me up as you have eaten up all the others!" +</p> +<p> +This finish to it all had doubtless appeared to him, confusedly, in a +sudden threatening vision: Antonin being dead, it was Grégoire who would +possess the mill, if he should marry Thérèse. And he would possess the +moorland also, that enclosure, hitherto left barren with such savage +delight, and so passionately coveted by the farm. And doubtless he would +cede it to the farm as soon as he should be the master. The thought that +Chantebled might yet be increased by the fields which he, Lepailleur, had +withheld from it brought the miller's delirious rage to a climax. +</p> +<p> +"Your son, I'll send him to the galleys! And you, if you don't go, I'll +throw you out! Be off with you, be off!" +</p> +<p> +Mathieu, who was very pale, slowly retired before this furious madman. +But as he went off he calmly said: "You are an unhappy man. I forgive +you, for you are in great grief. Besides, I am quite easy, sensible +things always end by taking place." +</p> +<p> +Again, a month went by. Then, one rainy morning in October, Madame +Lepailleur was found hanging in the mill stable. There were folks at +Janville who related that Lepailleur had hung her there. The truth was +that she had given signs of melancholia ever since the death of Antonin. +Moreover, the life led at the mill was no longer bearable; day by day the +husband and wife reproached one another for their son's death and their +daughter's flight, battling ragefully together like two abandoned beasts +shut up in the same cage. Folks were merely astonished that such a harsh, +avaricious woman should have been willing to quit this life without +taking her goods and chattels with her. +</p> +<p> +As soon as Thérèse heard of her mother's death she hastened home, +repentant, and took her place beside her father again, unwilling as she +was that he should remain alone in his two-fold bereavement. At first it +proved a terrible time for her in the company of that brutal old man who +was exasperated by what he termed his bad luck. But she was a girl of +sterling courage and prompt decision; and thus, after a few weeks, she +had made her father consent to her marriage with Grégoire, which, as +Mathieu had said, was the only sensible course. The news gave great +relief at the farm whither the prodigal son had not yet dared to return. +It was believed that the young couple, after eloping together, had lived +in some out of the way district of Paris, and it was even suspected that +Ambroise, who was liberally minded, had, in a brotherly way, helped them +with his purse. And if, on the one hand, Lepailleur consented to the +marriage in a churlish, distrustful manner—like one who deemed +himself robbed, and was simply influenced by the egotistical dread of +some day finding himself quite alone again in his gloomy +house—Mathieu and Marianne, on the other side, were delighted with +an arrangement which put an end to an equivocal situation that had +caused them the greatest suffering, grieved as they were by the +rebellion of one of their children. +</p> +<p> +Curiously enough, it came to pass that Grégoire, once married and +installed at the mill in accordance with his wife's desire, agreed with +his father-in-law far better than had been anticipated. This resulted in +particular from a certain discussion during which Lepailleur had wished +to make Grégoire swear, that, after his death, he would never dispose of +the moorland enclosure, hitherto kept uncultivated with peasant +stubbornness, to any of his brothers or sisters of the farm. Grégoire +took no oath on the subject, but gayly declared that he was not such a +fool as to despoil his wife of the best part of her inheritance, +particularly as he proposed to cultivate those moors and, within two or +three years' time, make them the most fertile land in the district. That +which belonged to him did not belong to others, and people would soon see +that he was well able to defend the property which had fallen to his lot. +Things took a similar course with respect to the mill, where Grégoire at +first contented himself with repairing the old mechanism, for he was +unwilling to upset the miller's habits all at once, and therefore +postponed until some future time the installation of an engine, and the +laying down of a line of rails to Janville station—all those ideas +formerly propounded by Mathieu which henceforth fermented in his +audacious young mind. +</p> +<p> +In this wise, then, people found themselves in presence of a new +Grégoire. The madcap had become wise, only retaining of his youthful +follies the audacity which is needful for successful enterprise. And it +must be said that he was admirably seconded by the fair and energetic +Thérèse. They were both enraptured at now being free to love each other +in the romantic old mill, garlanded with ivy, pending the time when they +would resolutely fling it to the ground to install in its place the great +white meal stores and huge new mill-stones, which, with their conquering +ambition, they often dreamt of. +</p> +<p> +During the years that followed, Mathieu and Marianne witnessed other +departures. The three daughters, Louise, Madeleine, and Marguerite, in +turn took their flight from the family nest. All three found husbands in +the district. Louise, a plump brunette, all gayety and health, with +abundant hair and large laughing eyes, married notary Mazaud of Janville, +a quiet, pensive little man, whose occasional silent smiles alone denoted +the perfect satisfaction which he felt at having found a wife of such +joyous disposition. Then Madeleine, whose chestnut tresses were tinged +with gleaming gold, and who was slimmer than her sister, and of a more +dreamy style of beauty, her character and disposition refined by her +musical tastes, made a love match which was quite a romance. Herbette, +the architect, who became her husband, was a handsome, elegant man, +already celebrated; he owned near Monvel a park-like estate, where he +came to rest at times from the fatigue of his labors in Paris. +</p> +<p> +At last, Marguerite, the least pretty of the girls—indeed, she was +quite plain, but derived a charm from her infinite goodness of +heart—was chosen in marriage by Dr. Chambouvet, a big, genial, +kindly fellow, who had inherited his father's practice at Vieux-Bourg, +where he lived in a large white house, which had become the resort of +the poor. And thus the three girls being married, the only ones who +remained with Mathieu and Marianne in the slowly emptying nest were +their two last boys, Nicolas and Benjamin. +</p> +<p> +At the same time, however, as the youngsters flew away and installed +themselves elsewhere, there came other little ones, a constant swarming +due to the many family marriages. In eight years, Denis, who reigned at +the factory in Paris, had been presented by his wife with three children, +two boys, Lucien and Paul, and a girl, Hortense. Then Léonce, the son of +Ambroise, who was conquering such a high position in the commercial +world, now had a brother, Charles, and two little sisters, Pauline and +Sophie. At the farm, moreover, Gervais was already the father of two +boys, Leon and Henri, while Claire, his sister, could count three +children, a boy, Joseph, and two daughters, Lucile and Angèle. There was +also Grégoire, at the mill, with a big boy who had received the name of +Robert; and there were also the three last married daughters—Louise, +with a girl two years old; Madeleine, with a boy six months of age; and +Marguerite, who in anticipation of a happy event, had decided to call her +child Stanislas, if it were a boy, and Christine, if it should be a girl. +</p> +<p> +Thus upon every side the family oak spread out its branches, its trunk +forking and multiplying, and boughs sprouting from boughs at each +successive season. And withal Mathieu was not yet sixty, and Marianne not +yet fifty-seven. Both still possessed flourishing health, and strength, +and gayety, and were ever in delight at seeing the family, which had +sprung from them, thus growing and spreading, invading all the country +around, even like a forest born from a single tree. +</p> +<p> +But the great and glorious festival of Chantebled at that period was the +birth of Mathieu and Marianne's first great-grandchild—a girl, called +Angeline, daughter of their granddaughter, Berthe. In this little girl, +all pink and white, the ever-regretted Blaise seemed to live again. So +closely did she resemble him that Charlotte, his widow, already a +grandmother in her forty-second year, wept with emotion at the sight of +her. Madame Desvignes had died six months previously, passing away, even +as she had lived, gently and discreetly, at the termination of her task, +which had chiefly consisted in rearing her two daughters on the scanty +means at her disposal. Still it was she, who, before quitting the scene, +had found a husband for her granddaughter, Berthe, in the person of +Philippe Havard, a young engineer who had recently been appointed +assistant-manager at a State factory near Mareuil. It was at Chantebled, +however, that Berthe's little Angeline was born; and on the day of the +churching, the whole family assembled together there once more to glorify +the great-grandfather and great-grandmother. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! well," said Marianne gayly, as she stood beside the babe's cradle, +"if the young ones fly away there are others born, and so the nest will +never be empty." +</p> +<p> +"Never, never!" repeated Mathieu with emotion, proud as he felt of that +continual victory over solitude and death. "We shall never be left +alone!" +</p> +<p> +Yet there came another departure which brought them many tears. Nicolas, +the youngest but one of their boys, who was approaching his twentieth +birthday, and thus nigh the cross-roads of life, had not yet decided +which one he would follow. He was a dark, sturdy young man, with an open, +laughing face. As a child, he had adored tales of travel and far-away +adventure, and had always evinced great courage and endurance, returning +home enraptured from interminable rambles, and never uttering complaints, +however badly his feet might be blistered. And withal he possessed a most +orderly mind, ever carefully arranging and classifying his little +belongings in his drawers, and looking down with contempt on the +haphazard way in which his sisters kept their things. +</p> +<p> +Later on, as he grew up, he became thoughtful, as if he were vainly +seeking around him some means of realizing his two-fold craving, that of +discovering some new land and organizing it properly. One of the +last-born of a numerous family, he no longer found space enough for the +amplitude and force of his desires. His brothers and sisters had already +taken all the surrounding lands, and he stifled, threatened also, as it +were, with famine, and ever sought the broad expanse that he dreamt of, +where he might grow and reap his bread. No more room, no more food! At +first he knew not in which direction to turn, but groped and hesitated +for some months. Nevertheless, his hearty laughter continued to gladden +the house; he wearied neither his father nor his mother with the care of +his destiny, for he knew that he was already strong enough to fix it +himself. +</p> +<p> +There was no corner left for him at the farm where Gervais and Claire +took up all the room. At the Beauchêne works Denis was all sufficient, +reigning there like a conscientious toiler, and nothing justified a +younger brother in claiming a share beside him. At the mill, too, +Grégoire was as yet barely established, and his kingdom was so small that +he could not possibly cede half of it. Thus an opening was only possible +with Ambroise, and Nicolas ended by accepting an obliging offer which the +latter made to take him on trial for a few months, by way of initiating +him into the higher branches of commerce. Ambroise's fortune was becoming +prodigious since old uncle Du Hordel had died, leaving him his commission +business. Year by year the new master increased his trade with all the +countries of the world. Thanks to his lucky audacity and broad +international views, he was enriching himself with the spoils of the +earth. And though Nicolas again began to stifle in Ambroise's huge +store-houses, where the riches of distant countries, the most varied +climes, were collected together, it was there that his real vocation came +to him; for a voice suddenly arose, calling him away yonder to dim, +unknown regions, vast stretches of country yet sterile, which needed to +be populated, and cleared and sowed with the crops of the future. +</p> +<p> +For two months Nicolas kept silent respecting the designs which he was +now maturing. He was extremely discreet, as are all men of great energy, +who reflect before they act. He must go, that was certain, since neither +space nor sufficiency of sunlight remained for him in the cradle of his +birth; but if he went off alone, would that not be going in an imperfect +state, deficient in the means needed for the heroic task of populating +and clearing a new land? He knew a girl of Janville, one Lisbeth Moreau, +who was tall and strong, and whose robust health, seriousness, and +activity had charmed him. She was nineteen years of age, and, like +Nicolas, she stifled in the little nook to which destiny had confined +her; for she craved for the free and open air, yonder, afar off. An +orphan, and long dependent on an aunt, who was simply a little village +haberdasher, she had hitherto, from feelings of affection, remained +cloistered in a small and gloomy shop. But her aunt had lately died, +leaving her some ten thousand francs, and her dream was to sell the +little business, and go away and really live at last. One October +evening, when Nicolas and Lisbeth told one another things that they had +never previously told anybody, they came to an understanding. They +resolutely took each other's hand and plighted their troth for life, for +the hard battle of creating a new world, a new family, somewhere on the +earth's broad surface, in those mysterious, far away climes of which they +knew so little. 'Twas a delightful betrothal, full of courage and faith. +</p> +<p> +Only then, everything having been settled, did Nicolas speak out, +announcing his departure to his father and mother. It was an autumn +evening, still mild, but fraught with winter's first shiver, and the +twilight was falling. Intense grief wrung the parents' hearts as soon as +they understood their son. This time it was not simply a young one flying +from the family nest to build his own on some neighboring tree of the +common forest; it was flight across the seas forever, severance without +hope of return. They would see their other children again, but this one +was breathing an eternal farewell. Their consent would be the share of +cruel sacrifice, that life demands, their supreme gift to life, the tithe +levied by life on their affection and their blood. To pursue its victory, +life, the perpetual conqueror, demanded this portion of their flesh, this +overplus of the numerous family, which was overflowing, spreading, +peopling the world. And what could they answer, how could they refuse? +The son who was unprovided for took himself off; nothing could be more +logical or more sensible. Far beyond the fatherland there were vast +continents yet uninhabited, and the seed which is scattered by the +breezes of heaven knows no frontiers. Beyond the race there is mankind +with that endless spreading of humanity that is leading us to the one +fraternal people of the accomplished times, when the whole earth shall be +but one sole city of truth and justice. +</p> +<p> +Moreover, quite apart from the great dream of those seers, the poets, +Nicolas, like a practical man, whatever his enthusiasm, gayly gave his +reasons for departing. He did not wish to be a parasite; he was setting +off to the conquest of another land, where he would grow the bread he +needed, since his own country had no field left for him. Besides, he took +his country with him in his blood; she it was that he wished to enlarge +afar off with unlimited increase of wealth and strength. It was ancient +Africa, the mysterious, now explored, traversed from end to end, that +attracted him. In the first instance he intended to repair to Senegal, +whence he would doubtless push on to the Soudan, to the very heart of the +virgin lands where he dreamt of a new France, an immense colonial empire, +which would rejuvenate the old Gallic race by endowing it with its due +share of the earth. And it was there that he had the ambition of carving +out a kingdom for himself, and of founding with Lisbeth another dynasty +of Froments, and a new Chantebled, covering under the hot sun a tract ten +times as extensive as the old one, and peopled with the people of his own +children. And he spoke of all this with such joyous courage that Mathieu +and Marianne ended by smiling amid their tears, despite the rending of +their poor hearts. +</p> +<p> +"Go, my lad, we cannot keep you back. Go wherever life calls you, +wherever you may live with more health and joy and strength. All that may +spring from you yonder will still be health and joy and strength derived +from us, of which we shall be proud. You are right, one must not weep, +your departure must be a <i>fête</i>, for the family does not separate, it +simply extends, invades, and conquers the world." +</p> +<p> +Nevertheless, on the day of farewell, after the marriage of Nicolas and +Lisbeth there was an hour of painful emotion at Chantebled. The family +had met to share a last meal all together, and when the time came for the +young and adventurous couple to tear themselves from the maternal soil +there were those who sobbed although they had vowed to be very brave. +Nicolas and Lisbeth were going off with little means, but rich in hopes. +Apart from the ten thousand francs of the wife's dowry they had only been +willing to take another ten thousand, just enough to provide for the +first difficulties. Might courage and labor therefore prove sturdy +artisans of conquest. +</p> +<p> +Young Benjamin, the last born of the brothers Froment, was particularly +upset by this departure. He was a delicate, good-looking child not yet +twelve years old, whom his parents greatly spoiled, thinking that he was +weak. And they were quite determined that they would at all events keep +him with them, so handsome did they find him with his soft limpid eyes +and beautiful curly hair. He was growing up in a languid way, dreamy, +petted, idle among his mother's skirts, like the one charming weakling of +that strong, hardworking family. +</p> +<p> +"Let me kiss you again, my good Nicolas," said he to his departing +brother. "When will you come back?" +</p> +<p> +"Never, my little Benjamin." +</p> +<p> +The boy shuddered. +</p> +<p> +"Never, never!" he repeated. "Oh! that's too long. Come back, come back +some day, so that I may kiss you again." +</p> +<p> +"Never," repeated Nicolas, turning pale himself. "Never, never." +</p> +<p> +He had lifted up the lad, whose tears were raining fast; and then for all +came the supreme grief, the frightful moment of the hatchet-stroke, of +the separation which was to be eternal. +</p> +<p> +"Good-by, little brother! Good-by, good-by, all of you!" +</p> +<p> +While Mathieu accompanied the future conqueror to the door for the last +time wishing him victory, Benjamin in wild grief sought a refuge beside +his mother who was blinded by her tears. And she caught him up with a +passionate clasp, as if seized with fear that he also might leave her. He +was the only one now left to them in the family nest. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="XXI">XXI</a></h4> + +<p> +AT the factory, in her luxurious house on the quay, where she had long +reigned as sovereign mistress, Constance for twelve years already had +been waiting for destiny, remaining rigid and stubborn amid the continual +crumbling of her life and hopes. +</p> +<p> +During those twelve years Beauchêne had pursued a downward course, the +descent of which was fatal. He was right at the bottom now, in the last +state of degradation. After beginning simply as a roving husband, +festively inclined, he had ended by living entirely away from his home, +principally in the company of two women, aunt and niece. He was now but a +pitiful human rag, fast approaching some shameful death. And large as his +fortune had been, it had not sufficed him; as he grew older he had +squandered money yet more and more lavishly, immense sums being swallowed +up in disreputable adventures, the scandal of which it had been necessary +to stifle. Thus he at last found himself poor, receiving but a small +portion of the ever-increasing profits of the works, which were in full +prosperity. +</p> +<p> +This was the disaster which brought so much suffering to Constance in her +incurable pride. Beauchêne, since the death of his son, had quite +abandoned himself to a dissolute life, thinking of nothing but his +pleasures, and taking no further interest in his establishment. What was +the use of defending it, since there was no longer an heir to whom it +might be transmitted, enlarged and enriched? And thus he had surrendered +it, bit by bit, to Denis, his partner, whom, by degrees, he allowed to +become the sole master. On arriving at the works, Denis had possessed but +one of the six shares which represented the totality of the property +according to the agreement. And Beauchêne had even reserved to himself +the right of repurchasing that share within a certain period. But far +from being in a position to do so before the appointed date was passed, +he had been obliged to cede yet another share to the young man, in order +to free himself of debts which he could not confess. +</p> +<p> +From that time forward it became a habit with Beauchêne to cede Denis a +fresh share every two years. A third followed the second, then came the +turn of the fourth and the fifth, in such wise, indeed, that after a +final arrangement, he had not even kept a whole share for himself; but +simply some portion of the sixth. And even that was really fictitious, +for Denis had only acknowledged it in order to have a pretext for +providing him with a certain income, which, by the way, he subdivided, +handing half of it to Constance every month. +</p> +<p> +She, therefore, was ignorant of nothing. She knew that, as a matter of +fact, the works would belong to that son of the hated Froments, whenever +he might choose to close the doors on their old master, who, as it +happened, was never seen now in the workshops. True, there was a clause +in the covenant which admitted, so long as that covenant should not be +broken, the possibility of repurchasing all the shares at one and the +same time. Was it, then, some mad hope of doing this, a fervent belief +in a miracle, in the possibility of some saviour descending from Heaven, +that kept Constance thus rigid and stubborn, awaiting destiny? Those +twelve years of vain waiting—and increasing decline did not seem +to have diminished her conviction that in spite of everything she would +some day triumph. No doubt her tears had gushed forth at Chantebled in +presence of the victory of Mathieu and Marianne; but she soon recovered +her self-possession, and lived on in the hope that some unexpected +occurrence would at last prove that she, the childless woman, was in the +right. +</p> +<p> +She could not have said precisely what it was she wished; she was simply +bent on remaining alive until misfortune should fall upon the +over-numerous family, to exculpate her for what had happened in her own +home, the loss of her son who was in the grave, and the downfall of her +husband who was in the gutter—all the abomination, indeed, which +had been so largely wrought by herself, but which filled her with agony. +However much her heart might bleed over her losses, her vanity as an +honest <i>bourgeoise</i> filled her with rebellious thoughts, for she +could not admit that she had been in the wrong. And thus she awaited the +revenge of destiny in that luxurious house, which was far too large now +that she alone inhabited it. She only occupied the rooms on the first +floor, where she shut herself up for days together with an old serving +woman, the sole domestic that she had retained. Gowned in black, as if +bent on wearing eternal mourning for Maurice, always erect, stiff, and +haughtily silent, she never complained, although her covert exasperation +had greatly affected her heart, in such wise that she experienced at +times most terrible attacks of stifling. These she kept as secret as +possible, and one day when the old servant ventured to go for Doctor +Boutan she threatened her with dismissal. She would not even answer the +doctor, and she refused to take any remedies, certain as she felt that +she would last as long as the hope which buoyed her up. +</p> +<p> +Yet what anguish it was when she suddenly began to stifle, all alone in +the empty house, without son or husband near her! She called nobody since +she knew that nobody would come. And the attack over, with what +unconquerable obstinacy did she rise erect again, repeating that her +presence sufficed to prevent Denis from being the master, from reigning +alone in full sovereignty, and that in any case he would not have the +house and install himself in it like a conqueror, so long as she had not +sunk to death under the final collapse of the ceilings. +</p> +<p> +Amid this retired life, Constance, haunted as she was by her fixed idea, +had no other occupation than that of watching the factory, and +ascertaining what went on there day by day. Morange, whom she had made +her confidant, gave her information in all simplicity almost every +evening, when he came to speak to her for a moment after leaving his +office. She learnt everything from his lips—the successive sales of +the shares into which the property had been divided, their gradual +acquisition by Denis, and the fact that Beauchêne and herself were +henceforth living on the new master's liberality. Moreover, she so +organized her system of espionage as to make the old accountant tell her +unwittingly all that he knew of the private life led by Denis, his wife +Marthe, and their children, Lucien, Paul, and Hortense all, indeed, that +was done and said in the modest little pavilion where the young people, +in spite of their increasing fortune, were still residing, evincing no +ambitious haste to occupy the large house on the quay. They did not even +seem to notice what scanty accommodation they had in that pavilion, while +she alone dwelt in the gloomy mansion, which was so spacious that she +seemed quite lost in it. And she was enraged, too, by their deference, by +the tranquil way in which they waited for her to be no more; for she had +been unable to make them quarrel with her, and was obliged to show +herself grateful for the means they gave her, and to kiss their children, +whom she hated, when they brought her flowers. +</p> +<p> +Thus, months and years went by, and almost every evening when Morange for +a moment called on Constance, he found her in the same little silent +<i>salon</i>, gowned in the same black dress, and stiffened into a posture +of obstinate expectancy. Though no sign was given of destiny's revenge, of +the patiently hoped-for fall of misfortune upon others, she never seemed +to doubt of her ultimate victory. On the contrary, when things fell more +and more heavily upon her, she drew herself yet more erect, defying fate, +buoyed up by the conviction that it would at last be forced to prove that +she was right. Thus, she remained immutable, superior to fatigue, and +ever relying on a prodigy. +</p> +<p> +Each evening, when Morange called during those twelve years, the +conversation invariably began in the same way. +</p> +<p> +"Nothing fresh since yesterday, dear madame?" +</p> +<p> +"No, my friend, nothing." +</p> +<p> +"Well, the chief thing is to enjoy good health. One can wait for better +days." +</p> +<p> +"Oh! nobody enjoys good health; still one waits all the same." +</p> +<p> +And now one evening, at the end of the twelve years, as Morange went in +to see her, he detected that the atmosphere of the little drawing-room +was changed, quivering as it were with restrained delight amid the +eternal silence. +</p> +<p> +"Nothing fresh since yesterday, dear madame?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, my friend, there's something fresh." +</p> +<p> +"Something favorable I hope, then; something pleasant that you have been +waiting for?" +</p> +<p> +"Something that I have been waiting for—yes! What one knows how to +wait for always comes." +</p> +<p> +He looked at her in surprise, feeling almost anxious when he saw how +altered she was, with glittering eyes and quick gestures. What fulfilment +of her desires, after so many years of immutable mourning, could have +resuscitated her like that? She smiled, she breathed vigorously, as if +she were relieved of the enormous weight which had so long crushed and +immured her. But when he asked the cause of her great happiness she said: +</p> +<p> +"I will not tell you yet, my friend. Perhaps I do wrong to rejoice; for +everything is still very vague and doubtful. Only somebody told me this +morning certain things, which I must make sure of, and think over. When I +have done so I shall confide in you, you may rely on it, for I tell you +everything; besides which, I shall no doubt need your help. So have a +little patience, some evening you shall come to dinner with me here, and +we shall have the whole evening before us to chat at our ease. But ah! +<i>mon Dieu</i>! if it were only true, if it were only the miracle at +last!" +</p> +<p> +More than three weeks elapsed before Morange heard anything further. He +saw that Constance was very thoughtful and very feverish, but he did not +even question her, absorbed as he himself was in the solitary, not to say +automatic, life which he had made for himself. He had lately completed +his sixty-ninth year; thirty years had gone by since the death of his +wife Valérie, more than twenty since his daughter Reine had joined her, +and he still ever lived on in his methodical, punctual manner, amid the +downfall of his existence. Never had man suffered more than he, passed +through greater tragedies, experienced keener remorse, and withal he came +and went in a careful, correct way, ever and ever prolonging his career +of mediocrity, like one whom many may have forgotten, but whom keenness +of grief has preserved. +</p> +<p> +Nevertheless Morange had evidently sustained some internal damage of a +nature to cause anxiety. He was lapsing into the most singular manias. +While obstinately retaining possession of the over-large flat which he +had formerly occupied with his wife and daughter, he now lived there +absolutely alone; for he had dismissed his servant, and did his own +marketing, cooking, and cleaning. For ten years nobody but himself had +been inside his rooms, and the most filthy neglect was suspected there. +But in vain did the landlord speak of repairs, he was not allowed even to +cross the threshold. Moreover, although the old accountant, who was now +white as snow, with a long, streaming beard, remained scrupulously clean +of person, he wore a most wretched threadbare coat, which he must have +spent his evenings in repairing. Such, too, was his maniacal, sordid +avarice that he no longer spent a farthing on himself apart from the +money which he paid for his bread—bread of the commonest kind, which +he purchased every four days and ate when it was stale, in order that he +might make it last the longer. This greatly puzzled the people who were +acquainted with him, and never a week went by without the house-porter +propounding the question: "When a gentleman of such quiet habits earns +eight thousand francs a year at his office and never spends a cent, what +can he do with his money?" Some folks even tried to reckon up the amount +which Morange must be piling in some corner, and thought that it might +perhaps run to some hundreds of thousands of francs. +</p> +<p> +But more serious trouble declared itself. He was twice snatched away from +certain death. One day, when Denis was returning homewards across the +Grenelle bridge he perceived Morange leaning far over the parapet, +watching the flow of the water, and all ready to make a plunge if he had +not been grasped by his coat-tails. The poor man, on recovering his +self-possession, began to laugh in his gentle way, and talked of having +felt giddy. Then, on another occasion, at the works, Victor Moineaud +pushed him away from some machinery in motion at the very moment when, as +if hypnotized, he was about to surrender himself to its devouring +clutches. Then he again smiled, and acknowledged that he had done wrong +in passing so near to the wheels. After this he was watched, for people +came to the conclusion that he occasionally lost his head. If Denis +retained him as chief accountant, this was, firstly, from a feeling of +gratitude for his long services; but, apart from that matter, the +extraordinary thing was that Morange had never discharged his duties more +ably, obstinately tracing every doubtful centime in his books, and +displaying the greatest accuracy over the longest additions. Always +showing a calm and restful face, as though no tempest had ever assailed +his heart, he clung tightly to his mechanical life, like a discreet +maniac, who, though people might not know it, ought, perhaps, to have +been placed under restraint. +</p> +<p> +At the same time, it should be mentioned that for some few years already +there had been quite a big affair in Morange's life. Although he was +Constance's confidant, although she had made him her creature by the +force of her despotic will, he had gradually conceived the greatest +affection for Denis's daughter, Hortense. As this child grew up, he +fancied that he found in her his own long-mourned daughter, Reine. She +had recently completed her ninth year, and each time that Morange met her +he was thrown into a state of emotion and adoration, the more touching +since it was all a divine illusion on his part, for the two girls in no +wise resembled each other, the one having been extremely dark, and the +other being nearly fair. In spite of his terrible avarice, the accountant +loaded Hortense with dolls and sweetmeats on every possible occasion; and +at last his affection for the child absorbed him to such a degree that +Constance felt offended by it. She thereupon gave him to understand that +whosoever was not entirely on her side was, in reality, against her. +</p> +<p> +To all appearance, he made his submission; in reality, he only loved the +child the more for the thwarting of his passion, and he watched for her +in order to kiss her in secret. In his daily intercourse with Constance, +in showing apparent fidelity to the former mistress of the works, he now +simply yielded to fear, like the poor weak being he was, one whom +Constance had ever bent beneath her stern hand. The pact between them was +an old one, it dated from that monstrous thing which they alone knew, +that complicity of which they never spoke, but which bound them so +closely together. +</p> +<p> +He, with his weak, good nature, seemed from that day to have remained +annihilated, tamed, cowed like a frightened animal. Since that day, too, +he had learnt many other things, and now no secret of the house remained +unknown to him. This was not surprising. He had been living there so many +years. He had so often walked to and fro with his short, discreet, +maniacal step, hearing, seeing, and surprising everything! However, this +madman, who knew the truth and who remained silent—this madman, left +free amid the mysterious drama enacted in the Beauchênes' home, was +gradually coming to a rebellious mood, particularly since he was +compelled to hide himself to kiss his little friend Hortense. His heart +growled at the thought of it, and he felt ready to explode should his +passion be interfered with. +</p> +<p> +All at once, one evening, Constance kept him to dinner. And he suspected +that the hour of her revelations had come, on seeing how she quivered and +how erectly she carried her little figure, like a fighter henceforth +certain of victory. Nevertheless, although the servant left them alone +after bringing in at one journey the whole of the frugal repast, she did +not broach the great affair at table. She spoke of the factory and then +of Denis and his wife Marthe, whom she criticised, and she was even so +foolish as to declare that Hortense was badly behaved, ugly, and +destitute of grace. The accountant, like the coward he was, listened to +her, never daring to protest in spite of the irritation and rebellion of +his whole being. +</p> +<p> +"Well, we shall see," she said at last, "when one and all are put back +into their proper places." +</p> +<p> +Then she waited until they returned to the little drawing-room, and the +doors were shut behind them; and it was only then, near the fire, amid +the deep silence of the winter evening, that she spoke out on the subject +which she had at heart: +</p> +<p> +"As I think I have already told you, my friend, I have need of you. You +must obtain employment at the works for a young man in whom I am +interested. And if you desire to please me, you will even take him into +your own office." +</p> +<p> +Morange, who was seated in front of her on the other side of the +chimney-piece, gave her a look of surprise. +</p> +<p> +"But I am not the master," he replied; "apply to the master, he will +certainly do whatever you ask." +</p> +<p> +"No, I do not wish to be indebted to Denis in any way. Besides, that +would not suit my plans. You yourself must recommend the young man, and +take him as an assistant, coaching him and giving him a post under you. +Come, you surely have the power to choose a clerk. Besides, I insist on +it." +</p> +<p> +She spoke like a sovereign, and he bowed his back, for he had obeyed +people all his life; first his wife, then his daughter, and now that +dethroned old queen who terrified him in spite of the dim feeling of +rebellion which had been growing within him for some time past. +</p> +<p> +"No doubt, I might take the young man on," he said, "but who is he?" +</p> +<p> +Constance did not immediately reply. She had turned towards the fire, +apparently for the purpose of raising a log of wood with the tongs, but +in reality to give herself time for further reflection. What good would +it do to tell him everything at once? She would some day be forced to +tell it him, if she wished to have him entirely on her side; but there +was no hurry, and she fancied that it would be skilful policy if at +present she merely prepared the ground. +</p> +<p> +"He is a young man whose position has touched me, on account of certain +recollections," she replied. "Perhaps you remember a girl who worked +here—oh! a very long time ago, some thirty years at the least—a +certain Norine Moineaud, one of old Moineaud's daughters." +</p> +<p> +Morange had hastily raised his head, and as sudden light flashed on his +memory he looked at Constance with dilated eyes. Before he could even +weigh his words he let everything escape him in a cry of surprise: +"Alexandre-Honoré, Norine's son, the child of Rougemont!" +</p> +<p> +Quite thunderstruck by those words, Constance dropped the tongs she was +holding, and gazed into the old man's eyes, diving to the very depths of +his soul. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! you know, then!" she said. "What is it you know? You must tell me; +hide nothing. Speak! I insist on it!" +</p> +<p> +What he knew? Why, he knew everything. He spoke slowly and at length, as +from the depths of a dream. He had witnessed everything, learnt +everything—Norine's trouble, the money given by Beauchêne to provide +for her at Madame Bourdieu's, the child carried to the Foundling Hospital +and then put out to nurse at Rougemont, whence he had fled after stealing +three hundred francs. And the old accountant was even aware that the +young scamp, after stranding on the pavement of Paris, had led the vilest +of lives there. +</p> +<p> +"But who told you all that? How do you know all that?" cried Constance, +who felt full of anxiety. +</p> +<p> +He waved his arm with a vague, sweeping gesture, as if to take in all the +surrounding atmosphere, the whole house. He knew those things because +they were things pertaining to the place, which people had told him of, +or which he had guessed. He could no longer remember exactly how they had +reached him. But he knew them well. +</p> +<p> +"You understand," said he, "when one has been in a place for more than +thirty years, things end by coming to one naturally. I know everything, +everything." +</p> +<p> +Constance started and deep silence fell. He, with his eyes fixed on the +embers, had sunk back into the dolorous past. She reflected that it was, +after all, preferable that the position should be perfectly plain. Since +he was acquainted with everything, it was only needful that she, with all +determination and bravery, should utilize him as her docile instrument. +</p> +<p> +"Alexandre-Honoré, the child of Rougemont," she said. "Yes! that is the +young man whom I have at last found again. But are you also aware of the +steps which I took twelve years ago, when I despaired of finding him, and +actually thought him dead?" +</p> +<p> +Morange nodded affirmatively, and she again went on speaking, relating +that she had long since renounced her old plans, when all at once destiny +had revealed itself to her. +</p> +<p> +"Imagine a flash of lightning!" she exclaimed. "It was on the morning of +the day when you found me so moved! My sister-in-law, Séraphine, who +does not call on me four times a year, came here, to my great surprise, +at ten o'clock. She has become very strange, as you are aware, and I did +not at first pay any attention to the story which she began to relate to +me—the story of a young man whom she had become acquainted with +through some lady—an unfortunate young man who had been spoilt by +bad company, and whom one might save by a little help. Then what a blow +it was, my friend, when she all at once spoke out plainly, and told me +of the discovery which she had made by chance. I tell you, it is destiny +awaking and striking!" +</p> +<p> +The story was indeed curious. Prematurely aged though she was, Séraphine, +amid her growing insanity, continued to lead a wild, rackety life, and +the strangest stories were related of her. A singular caprice of hers, +given her own viciousness, was to join, as a lady patroness, a society +whose purpose was to succor and moralize young offenders on their release +from prison. And it was in this wise that she had become acquainted with +Alexandre-Honoré, now a big fellow of two-and-thirty, who had just +completed a term of six years' imprisonment. He had ended by telling her +his true story, speaking of Rougemont, naming Norine his mother, and +relating the fruitless efforts that he had made in former years to +discover his father, who was some immensely wealthy man. In the midst of +it, Séraphine suddenly understood everything, and in particular why it +was that his face had seemed so familiar to her. His striking resemblance +to Beauchêne sufficed to throw a vivid light upon the question of his +parentage. For fear of worry, she herself told him nothing, but as she +remembered how passionately Constance had at one time striven to find +him, she went to her and acquainted her with her discovery. +</p> +<p> +"He knows nothing as yet," Constance explained to Morange. "My +sister-in-law will simply send him here as if to a lady friend who will +find him a good situation. It appears that he now asks nothing better +than to work. If he has misconducted himself, the unhappy fellow, there +have been many excuses for it! And, besides, I will answer for him as +soon as he is in my hands; he will then only do as I tell him." +</p> +<p> +All that Constance knew respecting Alexandre's recent years was a story +which he had concocted and retailed to Séraphine—a story to the +effect that he owed his long term of imprisonment to a woman, the real +culprit, who had been his mistress and whom he had refused to denounce. +Of course that imprisonment, whatever its cause, only accounted for six +out of the twelve years which had elapsed since his disappearance, and +the six others, of which he said nothing, might conceal many an act of +ignominy and crime. On the other hand, imprisonment at least seemed to +have had a restful effect on him; he had emerged from his long +confinement, calmer and keener-witted, with the intention of spoiling +his life no longer. And cleansed, clad, and schooled by Séraphine, he +had almost become a presentable young man. +</p> +<p> +Morange at last looked up from the glowing embers, at which he had been +staring so fixedly. +</p> +<p> +"Well, what do you want to do with him?" he inquired. "Does he write a +decent hand?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, his handwriting is good. No doubt, however, he knows very little. +It is for that reason that I wish to intrust him to you. You will polish +him up for me and make him conversant with everything. My desire is that +in a year or two he should know everything about the factory, like a +master." +</p> +<p> +At that last word which enlightened him, the accountant's good sense +suddenly awoke. Amid the manias which were wrecking his mind, he had +remained a man of figures with a passion for arithmetical accuracy, and +he protested. +</p> +<p> +"Well, madame, since you wish me to assist you, pray tell me everything; +tell me in what work we can employ this young man here. Really now, you +surely cannot hope through him to regain possession of the factory, +re-purchase the shares, and become sole owner of the place?" +</p> +<p> +Then, with the greatest logic and clearness, he showed how foolish such a +dream would be, enumerating figures and fully setting forth how large a +sum of money would be needed to indemnify Denis, who was installed in the +place like a conqueror. +</p> +<p> +"Besides, dear madame, I don't understand why you should take that young +man rather than another. He has no legal rights, as you must be aware. He +could never be anything but a stranger here, and I should prefer an +intelligent, honest man, acquainted with our line of business." +</p> +<p> +Constance had set to work poking the fire logs with the tongs. When she +at last looked up she thrust her face towards the other's, and said in a +low voice, but violently: "Alexandre is my husband's son, he is the heir. +He is not the stranger. The stranger is that Denis, that son of the +Froments, who has robbed us of our property! You rend my heart; you make +it bleed, my friend, by forcing me to tell you this." +</p> +<p> +The answer she thus gave was the answer of a conservative +<i>bourgeoise</i>, who held that it would be more just if the +inheritance should go to an illegitimate scion of the house rather than +to a stranger. Doubtless the woman, the wife, the mother within her, +bled even as she herself acknowledged, but she sacrificed everything to +her rancor; she would drive the stranger away even if in doing so her +own flesh should be lacerated. Then, too, it vaguely seemed to her that +her husband's son must be in some degree her own, since his father was +likewise the father of the son to whom she had given birth, and who was +dead. Besides, she would make that young fellow her son; she would +direct him, she would compel him to be hers, to work through her and for +her. +</p> +<p> +"You wish to know how I shall employ him in the place," she resumed. "I +myself don't know. It is evident that I shall not easily find the +hundreds of thousands of francs which may be required. Your figures are +accurate, and it is possible that we may never have the money to buy +back the property. But, all the same, why not fight, why not try? And, +besides—I will admit it—suppose we are vanquished, well +then, so much the worse for the other. For I assure you that if this +young man will only listen to me, he will then become the agent of +destruction, the avenger and punisher, implanted in the factory to wreck +it!" +</p> +<p> +With a gesture which summoned ruin athwart the walls, she finished +expressing her abominable hopes. Among her vague plans, reared upon hate, +was that of employing the wretched Alexandre as a destructive weapon, +whose ravages would bring her some relief. Should she lose all other +battles, that would assuredly be the final one. And she had attained to +this pitch of madness through the boundless despair in which the loss of +her only son had plunged her, withered, consumed by a love which she +could not content, then demented, perverted to the point of crime. +</p> +<p> +Morange shuddered when, with her stubborn fierceness, she concluded: "For +twelve years past I have been waiting for a stroke of destiny, and here +it is! I would rather perish than not draw from it the last chance of +good fortune which it brings me!" +</p> +<p> +This meant that Denis's ruin was decided on, and would be effected if +destiny were willing. And the old accountant could picture the disaster: +innocent children struck down in the person of their father, a great and +most unjust catastrophe, which made his kindly heart rise in rebellion. +Would he allow that fresh crime to be committed without shouting aloud +all that he knew? Doubtless the memory of the other crime, the first one, +the monstrous buried crime about which they both kept silence, returned +at that horrible moment and shone out disturbingly in his eyes, for she +herself shuddered as if she could see it there, while with the view of +mastering him she gazed at him fixedly. For a moment, as they peered into +one another's eyes, they lived once more beside the murderous trap, and +shivered in the cold gust which rose from the abyss. And this time again +Morange, like a poor weak man overpowered by a woman's will, was +vanquished, and did not speak. +</p> +<p> +"So it is agreed, my friend," she softly resumed. "I rely on you to take +Alexandre, in the first place, as a clerk. You can see him here one +evening at five o'clock, after dusk, for I do not wish him to know at +first what interest I take in him. Shall we say the day after to-morrow?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, the evening of the day after to-morrow, if it pleases you, dear +madame." +</p> +<p> +On the morrow Morange displayed so much agitation that the wife of the +door-porter of the house where he resided, a woman who was ever watching +him, imparted her fears to her husband. The old gentleman was certainly +going to have an attack, for he had forgotten to put on his slippers when +he came downstairs to fetch some water in the morning; and, besides, he +went on talking to himself, and looked dreadfully upset. The most +extraordinary incident of the day, however, was that after lunch Morange +quite forgot himself, and was an hour late in returning to his office, a +lack of punctuality which had no precedent, which, in the memory of +everybody at the works, had never occurred before. +</p> +<p> +As a matter of fact, Morange had been carried away as by a storm, and, +walking straight before him, had once more found himself on the Grenelle +bridge, where Denis had one day saved him from the fascination of the +water. And some force, some impulse had carried him again to the very +same spot, and made him lean over the same parapet, gazing, in the same +way as previously, at the flowing river. Ever since the previous evening +he had been repeating the same words, words which he stammered in an +undertone, and which haunted and tortured him. "Would he allow that fresh +crime to be committed without shouting aloud what he knew?" No doubt it +was those words, of which he could not rid himself, that had made him +forget to put on his slippers in the morning, and that had just now again +dazed him to the point of preventing him from returning to the factory, +as if he no longer recognized the entrance as he passed it. And if he +were at present leaning over that water, had he not been impelled thither +by an unconscious desire to have done with all his troubles, an +instinctive hope of drowning the torment into which he was thrown by +those stubbornly recurring words? Down below, at the bottom of the river, +those words would at last cease; he would no longer repeat them; he would +no longer hear them urging him to an act of energy for which he could not +find sufficient strength. And the call of the water was very gentle, and +it would be so pleasant to have to struggle no longer, to yield to +destiny, like a poor soft-hearted weakling who has lived too long. +</p> +<p> +Morange leant forward more and more, and in fancy could already feel the +sonorous river seizing him, when a gay young voice in the rear recalled +him to reality. +</p> +<p> +"What are you looking at, Monsieur Morange? Are there any big fishes +there?" +</p> +<p> +It was Hortense, looking extremely pretty, and tall already for her ten +years, whom a maid was conducting on a visit to some little friends at +Auteuil. And when the distracted accountant turned round, he remained for +a moment with trembling hands, and eyes moist with tears, at the sight of +that apparition, that dear angel, who had recalled him from so far. +</p> +<p> +"What! is it you, my pet!" he exclaimed. "No, no, there are no big +fishes. I think that they hide at the bottom because the water is so cold +in winter. Are you going on a visit? You look quite beautiful in that +fur-trimmed cloak!" +</p> +<p> +The little girl began to laugh, well pleased at being flattered and +loved, for her old friend's voice quivered with adoration. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, yes, I am very happy; there are to be some private theatricals +where I'm going. Oh! it is amusing to feel happy!" +</p> +<p> +She spoke those words like his own Reine might formerly have spoken them, +and he could have gone down on his knees to kiss her little hands like an +idol's. +</p> +<p> +"But it is necessary that you should always be happy," he replied. "You +look so beautiful, I must really kiss you." +</p> +<p> +"Oh! you may, Monsieur Morange, I'm quite willing. Ah! you know the doll +you gave me; her name's Margot, and you have no idea how good she is. +Come to see her some day." +</p> +<p> +He had kissed her; and with glowing heart, ready for martyrdom, he +watched her as she went off in the pale light of winter. What he had +thought of would be too cowardly: besides, that child must be happy! +</p> +<p> +He slowly quitted the bridge, while within him the haunting words rang +out with decisive distinctness, demanding a reply: "Would he allow that +fresh crime to be committed without shouting aloud what he knew?" No, no! +It was impossible: he would speak, he would act. Nevertheless, his mind +remained clouded, befogged. How could he speak, how could he act? +</p> +<p> +Then, to crown his extravagant conduct, utterly breaking away from the +habits of forty years, he no sooner returned to the office than, instead +of immediately plunging into his everlasting additions, he began to write +a long letter. This letter, which was addressed to Mathieu, recounted the +whole affair—Alexandre's resurrection, Constance's plans, and the +service which he himself had promised to render her. These things were +set down simply as his impulse dictated, like a kind of confession by +which he relieved his feelings. He had not yet come to any positive +decision as to how he should play the part of a justiciar, which seemed +so heavy to his shoulders. His one purpose was to warn Mathieu in order +that there might be two of them to decide and act. And he simply finished +by asking the other to come to see him on the following evening, though +not before six o'clock, as he desired to see Alexandre and learn how the +interview passed off, and what Constance might require of the young man. +</p> +<p> +The ensuing night, the ensuing day, must have been full of abominable +torment for Morange. The doorkeeper's wife recounted, later on, that the +fourth-floor tenant had heard the old gentleman walking about overhead +all through the night. Doors were slammed, and furniture was dragged +about as if for a removal. It was even thought that one could detect +cries, sobs, and the monologues of a madman addressing phantoms, some +mysterious rendering of worship to the dead who haunted him. And at the +works during the day which followed Morange gave alarming signs of +distress, of the final sinking of his mind into a flood of gloom. Ever +darting troubled glances around him, he was tortured by internal combats, +which, without the slightest motive, made him descend the stairs a dozen +times, linger before the machinery in motion, and then return to his +additions up above, with the bewildered, distracted air of one who could +not find what he sought so painfully. When the darkness fell, about four +o'clock on that gloomy winter day, the two clerks whom he had with him in +his office noticed that he altogether ceased working. From that moment, +indeed, he waited with his eyes fixed upon the clock. And when five +o'clock struck he once more made sure that a certain total was correct, +then rose and went out, leaving the ledger open, as if he meant to return +to check the next addition. +</p> +<p> +He followed the gallery which led to the passage connecting the workshops +with the private house. The whole factory was at that hour lighted up, +electric lamps cast the brightness of daylight over it, while the stir of +work ascended and the walls shook amid the rumbling of machinery. And all +at once, before reaching the passage, Morange perceived the lift, the +terrible cavity, the abyss of murder in which Blaise had met his death +fourteen years previously. Subsequent to that catastrophe, and in order +to prevent the like of it from ever occurring again, the trap had been +surrounded by a balustrade with a gate, in such wise that a fall became +impossible unless one should open the gate expressly to take a plunge. At +that moment the trap was lowered and the gate was closed, and Morange, +yielding to some superior force, bent over the cavity, shuddering. The +whole scene of long ago rose up before him; he was again in the depths of +that frightful void; he could see the crushed corpse; and he could feel +the gust of terror chilling him in the presence of murder, accepted and +concealed. Since he suffered so dreadfully, since he could no longer +sleep, since he had promised his dear dead ones that he would join them, +why should he not make an end of himself? Two days previously, while +leaning over the parapet of the Grenelle bridge, a desire to do so had +taken possession of him. He merely had to lose his equilibrium and he +would be liberated, laid to rest in the peaceful earth between his wife +and his daughter. And, all at once, as if the abyss itself suggested to +him the frightful solution for which he had been vainly groping, in his +growing madness, for two days past, he thought that he could hear a voice +calling him from below, the voice of Blaise, which cried: "Come with the +other one! Come with the other one!" +</p> +<p> +He started violently and drew himself erect; decision had fallen on him +in a lightning flash. Insane as he was, that appeared to him to be the +one sole logical, mathematical, sensible solution, which would settle +everything. It seemed to him so simple, too, that he was astonished that +he had sought it so long. And from that moment this poor soft-hearted +weakling, whose wretched brain was unhinged, gave proof of iron will and +sovereign heroism, assisted by the clearest reasoning, the most subtle +craft. +</p> +<p> +In the first place he prepared everything, set the catch to prevent the +trap from being sent up again in his absence, and also assured himself +that the balustrade door opened and closed easily. He came and went with +a light, aerial step, as if carried off his feet, with his eyes ever on +the alert, anxious as he was to be neither seen nor heard. At last he +extinguished the three electric lamps and plunged the gallery into +darkness. From below, through the gaping cavity the stir of the working +factory, the rumbling of the machinery ever ascended. And it was only +then, everything being ready, that Morange turned into the passage to +betake himself to the little drawing room of the mansion. +</p> +<p> +Constance was there waiting for him with Alexandre. She had given +instructions for the latter to call half-an-hour earlier, for she wished +to confess him while as yet telling him nothing of the real position +which she meant him to take in the house. She was not disposed to place +herself all at once at his mercy, and had therefore simply expressed her +willingness to give him employment in accordance with the recommendation +of her relative, the Baroness de Lowicz. Nevertheless, she studied him +with restrained ardor, and was well pleased to find that he was strong, +sturdy, and resolute, with a hard face lighted by terrible eyes, which +promised her an avenger. She would finish polishing him up, and then he +would suit her perfectly. For his part, without plainly understanding the +truth, he scented something, divined that his fortune was at hand, and +was quite ready to wait awhile for the certain feast, like a young wolf +who consents to be domesticated in order that he may, later on, devour +the whole flock at his ease. +</p> +<p> +When Morange went in only one thing struck him, Alexandre's resemblance +to Beauchêne, that extraordinary resemblance which had already upset +Constance, and which now sent an icy chill through the old accountant as +if in purposing to carry out his idea he had condemned his old master. +</p> +<p> +"I was waiting for you, my friend; you are late, you who are so punctual +as a rule," said Constance. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, there was a little work which I wished to finish." +</p> +<p> +But she had merely been jesting, she felt so happy. And she immediately +settled everything: "Well, here is the gentleman whom I spoke about," she +said. "You will begin by taking him with you and making him acquainted +with the business, even if in the first instance you can merely send him +about on commissions for you. It is understood, is it not?" +</p> +<p> +"Quite so, dear madame, I will take him with me; you may rely on me." +</p> +<p> +Then, as she gave Alexandre his dismissal, saying that he might come on +the morrow, Morange offered to show him out by way of his office and the +workshops, which were still open. +</p> +<p> +"In that way he will form an acquaintance with the works, and can come +straight to me to-morrow." +</p> +<p> +Constance laughed again, so fully did the accountant's obligingness +reassure her. +</p> +<p> +"That is a good idea, my friend," she said. "Thank you. And <i>au +revoir</i>, monsieur; we will take charge of your future if you behave +sensibly." +</p> +<p> +At this moment, however, she was thunderstruck by an extravagant and +seemingly senseless incident. Morange, having shown Alexandre out of the +little <i>salon</i>, in advance of himself, turned round towards her with +the sudden grimace of a madman, revealing his insanity by the distortion of +his countenance. And in a low, familiar, sneering voice, he stammered in +her face: "Ha! ha! Blaise at the bottom of the hole! He speaks, he has +spoken to me! Ha! ha! the somersault! you would have the somersault! And +you shall have it again, the somersault, the somersault!" +</p> +<p> +Then he disappeared, following Alexandre. +</p> +<p> +She had listened to him agape with wonder. It was all so unforeseen, so +idiotic, that at first she did not understand it. But afterwards what a +flash of light came to her! That which Morange had referred to was the +murder yonder—the thing to which they had never referred, the +monstrous thing which they had kept buried for fourteen years past, +which their glances only had confessed, but which, all of a sudden, he +had cast in her teeth with the grimace of a madman. What was the meaning +of the poor fool's diabolical rebellion, the dim threat which she had +felt passing like a gust from an abyss? She turned frightfully pale, she +intuitively foresaw some frightful revenge of destiny, that destiny +which, only a moment previously, she had believed to be her minion. Yes, +it was surely that. And she felt herself carried fourteen years +backward, and she remained standing, quivering, icy cold, listening to +the sounds which arose from the works, waiting for the awful thud of the +fall, even as on the distant day when she had listened and waited for +the other to be crushed and killed. +</p> +<p> +Meantime Morange, with his discreet, short step, was leading Alexandre +away, and speaking to him in a quiet, good-natured voice. +</p> +<p> +"I must ask your pardon for going first, but I have to show you the way. +Oh! this is a very intricate place, with stairs and passages whose turns +and twists never end. The passage now turns to the left, you see." +</p> +<p> +Then, on reaching the gallery where the darkness was complete, he +affected anger in the most natural manner possible. +</p> +<p> +"Ah! well, that is just their way. They haven't yet lighted up this part. +The switch is at the other end. Fortunately I know where to step, for I +have been going backwards and forwards here for the last forty years. +Mind follow me carefully." +</p> +<p> +Thereupon, at each successive step, he warned the other what he ought to +do, guiding him along in his obliging way without the faintest tremor in +his voice. +</p> +<p> +"Don't let go of me, turn to the left.—Now we merely have to go +straight ahead.—Only, wait a moment, a barrier intersects the +gallery, and there is a gate.—There we are! I'm opening the gate, +you hear?—Follow me, I'll go first." +</p> +<p> +Morange quietly stepped into the void, amid the darkness. And, without a +cry, he fell. Alexandre who was close in the rear, almost touching him so +as not to lose him, certainly detected the void and the gust which +followed the fall, as with sudden horror the flooring failed beneath +them; but force of motion carried him on, he stepped forward in his turn, +howled and likewise fell, head over heels. Both were smashed below, both +killed at once. True, Morange still breathed for a few seconds. +Alexandre, for his part, lay with his skull broken to pieces and his +brains scattered on the very spot where Blaise had been picked up. +</p> +<p> +Horrible was the stupefaction when those bodies were found there. Nobody +could explain the catastrophe. Morange carried off his secret, the reason +for that savage act of justice which he had accomplished according to the +chance suggestions of his dementia. Perhaps he had wished to punish +Constance, perhaps he had desired to repair the old wrong: Denis long +since stricken in the person of his brother, and now saved for the sake +of his daughter Hortense, who would live happily with Margot, the pretty +doll who was so good. By suppressing the criminal instrument the old +accountant had indeed averted the possibility of a fresh crime. Swayed by +his fixed idea, however, he had doubtless never reasoned that cataclysmic +deed of justice, which was above reason, and which passed by with the +impassive savagery of a death-dealing hurricane. +</p> +<p> +At the works there was but one opinion, Morange had assuredly been mad; +and he alone could have caused the accident, particularly as it was +impossible to account, otherwise than by an act of madness, for the +extinguishing of the lights, the opening of the balustrade-door, and the +plunge into the cavity which he knew to be there, and into which had +followed him the unfortunate young man his companion. Moreover, the +accountant's madness was no longer doubted by anybody a few days later, +when the doorkeeper of his house related his final eccentricities, and a +commissary of police went to search his rooms. He had been mad, mad +enough to be placed in confinement. +</p> +<p> +To begin, nobody had ever seen a flat in such an extraordinary condition, +the kitchen a perfect stable, the drawing-room in a state of utter +abandonment with its Louis XIV. furniture gray with dust, and the +dining-room all topsy-turvy, the old oak tables and chairs being piled up +against the window as if to shut out every ray of light, though nobody +could tell why. The only properly kept room was that in which Reine had +formerly slept, which was as clean as a sanctuary, with its pitch-pine +furniture as bright as if it had been polished every day. But the +apartment in which Morange's madness became unmistakably manifest was his +own bedchamber, which he had turned into a museum of souvenirs, covering +its walls with photographs of his wife and daughter. Above a table there, +the wall facing the window quite disappeared from view, for a sort of +little chapel had been set up, decked with a multitude of portraits. In +the centre were photographs of Valérie and Reine, both of them at twenty +years of age, so that they looked like twin sisters; while symmetrically +disposed all around was an extraordinary number of other portraits, again +showing Valérie and Reine, now as children, now as girls, and now as +women, in every sort of position, too, and every kind of toilet. And +below them on the table, like an offering on an altar, was found more +than one hundred thousand francs, in gold, and silver, and even copper; +indeed, the whole fortune which Morange had been saving up for several +years by eating only dry bread, like a pauper. +</p> +<p> +At last, then, one knew what he had done with his savings; he had given +them to his dead wife and daughter, who had remained his will, passion, +and ambition. Haunted by remorse at having killed them while dreaming of +making them rich, he reserved for them that money which they had so +keenly desired, and which they would have spent with so much ardor. It +was still and ever for them that he earned it, and he took it to them, +lavished it upon them, never devoting even a tithe of it to any +egotistical pleasure, absorbed as he was in his vision-fraught worship +and eager to pacify and cheer their spirits. And the whole neighborhood +gossiped endlessly about the old mad gentleman who had let himself die of +wretchedness by the side of a perfect treasure, piled coin by coin upon a +table, and for twenty years past tendered to the portraits of his wife +and daughter, even as flowers might have been offered to their memory. +</p> +<p> +About six o'clock, when Mathieu reached the works, he found the place +terrified by the catastrophe. Ever since the morning he had been rendered +anxious by Morange's letter, which had greatly surprised and worried him +with that extraordinary story of Alexandre turning up once more, being +welcomed by Constance, and introduced by her into the establishment. +Plain as was the greater part of the letter, it contained some singularly +incoherent passages, and darted from one point to another with +incomprehensible suddenness. Mathieu had read it three times, indulging +on each occasion in fresh hypotheses of a gloomier and gloomier nature; +for the more he reflected, the more did the affair seem to him to be +fraught with menace. Then, on reaching the rendezvous appointed by +Morange, he found himself in presence of those bleeding bodies which +Victor Moineaud had just picked up and laid out side by side! Silent, +chilled to his bones, Mathieu listened to his son, Denis, who had +hastened up to tell him of the unexplainable misfortune, the two men +falling one atop of the other, first the old mad accountant, and then the +young fellow whom nobody knew and who seemed to have dropped from heaven. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu, for his part, had immediately recognized Alexandre, and if, +pale and terrified, he kept silent on the subject, it was because he +desired to take nobody, not even his son, into his confidence, given the +fresh suppositions, the frightful suppositions, which now arose in his +mind from out of all the darkness. He listened with growing anxiety to +the enumeration of the few points which were certain: the extinguishing +of the electric lights in the gallery and the opening of the balustrade +door, which was always kept closed and could only have been opened by +some <i>habitué</i>, since, to turn the handle, one had to press a +secret spring which kept it from moving. And, all at once, as Victor +Moineaud pointed out that the old man had certainly been the first to +fall, since one of the young man's legs had been stretched across his +stomach, Mathieu was carried fourteen years backward. He remembered old +Moineaud picking up Blaise on the very spot where Victor, the son, had +just picked up Morange and Alexandre. Blaise! At the thought of his dead +boy fresh light came to Mathieu, a frightful suspicion blazed up amid +the terrible obscurity in which he had been groping and doubting. And, +thereupon, leaving Denis to settle everything down below, he decided to +see Constance. +</p> +<p> +Up above, however, when Mathieu was on the point of turning into the +communicating passage, he paused once more, this time near the lift. It +was there, fourteen years previously, that Morange, finding the trap +open, had gone down to warn and chide the workmen, while Constance, +according to her own account, had quietly returned into the house, at the +very moment when Blaise, coming from the other end of the dim gallery, +plunged into the gulf. Everybody had eventually accepted that narrative +as being accurate, but Mathieu now felt that it was mendacious. He could +recall various glances, various words, various spells of silence; and +sudden certainty came upon him, a certainty based on all the petty things +which he had not then understood, but which now assumed the most +frightful significance. Yes, it was certain, even though round it there +hovered the monstrous vagueness of silent crimes, cowardly crimes, over +which a shadow of horrible mystery always lurks. Moreover, it explained +the sequel, those two bodies lying below, as far, that is, as logical +reasoning can explain a madman's action with all its gaps and +mysteriousness. Nevertheless, Mathieu still strove to doubt; before +anything else he wished to see Constance. +</p> +<p> +Showing a waxy pallor, she had remained erect, motionless, in the middle +of her little drawing-room. The waiting of fourteen years previously had +begun once more, lasting on and on, and filling her with such anxiety +that she held her breath the better to listen. Nothing, no stir, no sound +of footsteps, had yet ascended from the works. What could be happening +then? Was the hateful thing, the dreaded thing, merely a nightmare after +all? Yet Morange had really sneered in her face, she had fully understood +him. Had not a howl, the thud of a fall, just reached her ears? And now, +had not the rumbling of the machinery ceased? It was death, the factory +silent, chilled and lost for her. All at once her heart ceased beating as +she detected a sound of footsteps drawing nearer and nearer with +increased rapidity. The door opened, and it was Mathieu who came in. +</p> +<p> +She recoiled, livid, as at the sight of a ghost. He, O God! Why he? How +was it he was there? Of all the messengers of misfortune he was the one +whom she had least expected. Had the dead son risen before her she would +not have shuddered more dreadfully than she did at this apparition of the +father. +</p> +<p> +She did not speak. He simply said: "They made the plunge, they are both +dead—like Blaise." +</p> +<p> +Then, though she still said nothing, she looked at him. For a moment +their eyes met. And in her glance he read everything: the murder was +begun afresh, effected, consummated. Over yonder lay the bodies, dead, +one atop of the other. +</p> +<p> +"Wretched woman, to what monstrous perversity have you fallen! And how +much blood there is upon you!" +</p> +<p> +By an effort of supreme pride Constance was able to draw herself up and +even increase her stature, still wishing to conquer, and cry aloud that +she was indeed the murderess, that she had always thwarted him, and would +ever do so. But Mathieu was already overwhelming her with a final +revelation. +</p> +<p> +"You don't know, then, that that ruffian, Alexandre, was one of the +murderers of your friend, Madame Angelin, the poor woman who was robbed +and strangled one winter afternoon. I compassionately hid that from you. +But he would now be at the galleys had I spoken out! And if I were to +speak to-day you would be there too!" +</p> +<p> +That was the hatchet-stroke. She did not speak, but dropped, all of a +lump, upon the carpet, like a tree which has been felled. This time her +defeat was complete; destiny, which she awaited, had turned against her +and thrown her to the ground. A mother the less, perverted by the love +which she had set on her one child, a mother duped, robbed, and maddened, +who had glided into murder amid the dementia born of inconsolable +motherliness! And now she lay there, stretched out, scraggy and withered, +poisoned by the affection which she had been unable to bestow. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu became anxious, and summoned the old servant, who, after +procuring assistance, carried her mistress to her bed and then undressed +her. Meantime, as Constance gave no sign of life, seized as she was by +one of those fainting fits which often left her quite breathless, Mathieu +himself went for Boutan, and meeting him just as he was returning home +for dinner, was luckily able to bring him back at once. +</p> +<p> +Boutan, who was now nearly seventy-two, and was quietly spending his last +years in serene cheerfulness, born of his hope in life, had virtually +ceased practising, only attending a very few old patients, his friends. +However, he did not refuse Mathieu's request. When he had examined +Constance he made a gesture of hopelessness, the meaning of which was so +plain that Mathieu, his anxiety increasing, bethought himself of trying +to find Beauchêne in order that the latter might, at least, be present if +his wife should die. But the old servant, on being questioned, began by +raising her arms to heaven. She did not know where Monsieur might be, +Monsieur never left any address. At last, feeling frightened herself, she +made up her mind to hasten to the abode of the two women, aunt and niece, +with whom Beauchêne spent the greater part of his time. She knew their +address perfectly well, as her mistress had even sent her thither in +pressing emergencies. But she learnt that the ladies had gone with +Monsieur to Nice for a holiday; whereupon, not desiring to return without +some member of the family, she was seized on her way back with the fine +idea of calling on Monsieur's sister, the Baroness de Lowicz, whom she +brought, almost by force, in her cab. +</p> +<p> +It was in vain that Boutan attempted treatment. When Constance opened her +eyes again, she looked at him fixedly, recognized him, no doubt, and then +lowered her eyelids. And from that moment she obstinately refused to +reply to any question that was put to her. She must have heard and have +known that people were there, trying to succor her. But she would have +none of their succor, she was stubbornly intent on dying, on giving no +further sign of life. Neither did she raise her eyelids, nor did her lips +part again. It was as if she had already quitted the world amid the mute +agony of her defeat. +</p> +<p> +That evening Séraphine's manner was extremely strange. She reeked of +ether, for she drank ether now. When she heard of the two-fold +"accident," the death of Morange and that of Alexandre, which had brought +on Constance's cardiacal attack, she simply gave an insane grin, a kind +of involuntary snigger, and stammered: "Ah! that's funny." +</p> +<p> +Though she removed neither her hat nor her gloves, she installed herself +in an armchair, where she sat waiting, with her eyes wide open and +staring straight before her—those brown eyes flecked with gold, whose +living light was all that she had retained of her massacred beauty. At +sixty-two she looked like a centenarian; her bold, insolent face was +ravined, as it were, by her stormy life, and the glow of her sun-like +hair had been extinguished by a shower of ashes. And time went on, +midnight approached, and she was still there, near that death-bed of +which she seemed to be ignorant, in that quivering chamber where she +forgot herself, similar to a mere thing, apparently no longer even +knowing why she had been brought thither. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu and Boutan had been unwilling to retire. Since Monsieur was at +Nice in the company of those ladies, the aunt and the niece, they decided +to spend the night there in order that Constance might not be left alone +with the old servant. And towards midnight, while they were chatting +together in undertones, they were suddenly stupefied at hearing Séraphine +raise her voice, after preserving silence for three hours. +</p> +<p> +"He is dead, you know," said she. +</p> +<p> +Who was dead? At last they understood that she referred to Dr. Gaude. The +celebrated surgeon, had, indeed, been found in his consulting-room struck +down by sudden death, the cause of which was not clearly known. In fact, +the strangest, the most horrible and tragical stories were current on the +subject. According to one of them a patient had wreaked vengeance on the +doctor; and Mathieu, full of emotion, recalled that one day, long ago, +Séraphine herself had suggested that all Gaude's unhappy patients ought +to band themselves together and put an end to him. +</p> +<p> +When Séraphine perceived that Mathieu was gazing at her, as in a +nightmare, moved by the shuddering silence of that death-watch, she once +more grinned like a lunatic, and said: "He is dead, we were all there!" +</p> +<p> +It was insane, improbable, impossible; and yet was it true or was it +false? A cold, terrifying quiver swept by, the icy quiver of mystery, of +that which one knows not, which one will never know. +</p> +<p> +Boutan leant towards Mathieu and whispered in his ear: "She will be +raving mad and shut up in a padded cell before a week is over." And, +indeed, a week later the Baroness de Lowicz was wearing a straight +waistcoat. In her case Dr. Gaude's treatment had led to absolute +insanity. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu and Boutan watched beside Constance until daybreak. She never +opened her lips, nor raised her eyelids. As the sun rose up, she turned +towards the wall, and then she died. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="XXII">XXII</a></h4> + +<p> +STILL more years passed, and Mathieu was already sixty-eight and Marianne +sixty-five, when amid the increasing good fortune which they owed to +their faith in life, and their long courageous hopefulness, a last +battle, the most dolorous of their existence, almost struck them down and +sent them to the grave, despairing and inconsolable. +</p> +<p> +One evening Marianne went to bed, quivering, utterly distracted. Quite a +rending was taking place in the family. A disastrous and hateful quarrel +had set the mill, where Grégoire reigned supreme, against the farm which +was managed by Gervais and Claire. And Ambroise, on being selected as +arbiter, had fanned the flames by judging the affair in a purely business +way from his Paris counting-house, without taking into account the +various passions which were kindled. +</p> +<p> +It was on returning from a secret application to Ambroise, prompted by a +maternal longing for peace, that Marianne had taken to her bed, wounded +to the heart, and terrified by the thought of the future. Ambroise had +received her roughly, almost brutally, and she had gone back home in a +state of intense anguish, feeling as if her own flesh were lacerated by +the quarrelling of her ungrateful sons. And she had kept her bed, begging +Mathieu to say nothing, and explaining that a doctor's services would be +useless, since she did not suffer from any malady. She was fading away, +however, as he could well detect; she was day by day taking leave of him, +carried off by her bitter grief. Was it possible that all those loving +and well-loved children, who had grown up under their care and their +caresses, who had become the joy and pride of their victory, all those +children born of their love, united in their fidelity, a sacred +brotherly, sisterly battalion gathered close around them, was it possible +that they should now disband and desperately seek to destroy one another? +If so, it was true, then, that the more a family increases, the greater +is the harvest of ingratitude. And still more accurate became the saying, +that to judge of any human being's happiness or unhappiness in life, one +must wait until he be dead. +</p> +<p> +"Ah!" said Mathieu, as he sat near Marianne's bed, holding her feverish +hand, "to think of it! To have struggled so much, and to have triumphed +so much, and then to encounter this supreme grief, which will bring us +more pain than all the others. Decidedly it is true that one must +continue battling until one's last breath, and that happiness is only to +be won by suffering and tears. We must still hope, still triumph, and +conquer and live." +</p> +<p> +Marianne, however, had lost all courage, and seemed to be overwhelmed. +</p> +<p> +"No," said she, "I have no energy left me, I am vanquished. I was always +able to heal the wounds which came from without, but this wound comes +from my own blood; my blood pours forth within me and stifles me. All our +work is destroyed. Our joy, our health, our strength, have at the last +day become mere lies." +</p> +<p> +Then Mathieu, whom her grievous fears of a disaster gained, went off to +weep in the adjoining room, already picturing his wife dead and himself +in utter solitude. +</p> +<p> +It was with reference to Lepailleur's moorland, the plots intersecting +the Chantebled estate, that the wretched quarrel had broken out between +the mill and the farm. For many years already, the romantic, ivy-covered +old mill, with its ancient mossy wheel, had ceased to exist. Grégoire, +at last putting his father's ideas into execution, had thrown it down to +replace it by a large steam mill, with spacious meal-stores which a +light railway-line connected with Janville station. And he himself, +since he had been making a big fortune—for all the wheat of the +district was now sent to him—had greatly changed, with nothing of +his youthful turbulence left save a quick temper, which his wife +Thérèse with her brave, loving heart alone could somewhat calm. On a +score of occasions he had almost broken off all relations with his +father-in-law, Lepailleur, who certainly abused his seventy years. +Though the old miller, in spite of all his prophecies of ruin, had been +unable to prevent the building of the new establishment, he none the +less sneered and jeered at it, exasperated as he was at having been in +the wrong. He had, in fact, been beaten for the second time. Not only +did the prodigious crops of Chantebled disprove his theory of the +bankruptcy of the earth, that villainous earth in which, like an +obstinate peasant weary of toil and eager for speedy fortune, he +asserted nothing more would grow; but now that mill of his, which he had +so disdained, was born as it were afresh, growing to a gigantic size, +and becoming in his son-in-law's hands an instrument of great wealth. +</p> +<p> +The worst was that Lepailleur so stubbornly lived on, experiencing +continual defeats, but never willing to acknowledge that he was beaten. +One sole delight remained to him, the promise given and kept by Grégoire +that he would not sell the moorland enclosure to the farm. The old man +had even prevailed on him to leave it uncultivated, and the sight of that +sterile tract intersecting the wavy greenery of the beautiful estate of +Chantebled, like a spot of desolation, well pleased his spiteful nature. +He was often to be seen strolling there, like an old king of the stones +and the brambles, drawing up his tall, scraggy figure as if he were quite +proud of the poverty of that soil. In going thither one of his objects +doubtless was to find a pretext for a quarrel; for it was he who in the +course of one of these promenades, when he displayed such provoking +insolence, discovered an encroachment on the part of the farm—an +encroachment which his comments magnified to such a degree that +disastrous consequences seemed probable. As it was, all the happiness of +the Froments was for a time destroyed. +</p> +<p> +In business matters Grégoire invariably showed the rough impulsiveness of +a man of sanguine temperament, obstinately determined to part with no +fraction of his rights. When his father-in-law told him that the farm had +impudently cleared some seven acres of his moorland, with the intention +no doubt of carrying this fine robbery even further, if it were not +promptly stopped, Grégoire at once decided to inquire into the matter, +declaring that he would not tolerate any invasion of that sort. The +misfortune then was that no boundary stones could be found. Thus, the +people of the farm might assert that they had made a mistake in all good +faith, or even that they had remained within their limits. But Lepailleur +ragefully maintained the contrary, entered into particulars, and traced +what he declared to be the proper frontier line with his stick, swearing +that within a few inches it was absolutely correct. However, matters went +altogether from bad to worse after an interview between the brothers, +Gervais and Grégoire, in the course of which the latter lost his temper +and indulged in unpardonable language. On the morrow, too, he began an +action-at-law, to which Gervais replied by threatening that he would not +send another grain of corn to be ground at the mill. And this rupture of +business relations meant serious consequences for the mill, which really +owed its prosperity to the custom of Chantebled. +</p> +<p> +From that moment matters grew worse each day, and conciliation soon +seemed to be out of the question; for Ambroise, on being solicited to +find a basis of agreement, became in his turn impassioned, and even ended +by enraging both parties. Thus the hateful ravages of that fratricidal +war were increased: there were now three brothers up in arms against one +another. And did not this forebode the end of everything; might not this +destructive fury gain the whole family, overwhelming it as with a blast +of folly and hatred after so many years of sterling good sense and strong +and healthy affection? +</p> +<p> +Mathieu naturally tried to intervene. But at the very outset he felt that +if he should fail, if his paternal authority should be disregarded, the +disaster would become irreparable. Without renouncing the struggle, he +therefore waited for some opportunity which he might turn to good +account. At the same time, each successive day of discord increased his +anxiety. It was really all his own life-work, the little people which had +sprung from him, the little kingdom which he had founded under the +benevolent sun, that was threatened with sudden ruin. A work such as this +can only live by force of love. The love which created it can alone +perpetuate it; it crumbles as soon as the bond of fraternal solidarity is +broken. Thus it seemed to Mathieu that instead of leaving his work behind +him in full florescence of kindliness, joy, and vigor, he would see it +cast to the ground in fragments, soiled, and dead even before he were +dead himself. Yet what a fruitful and prosperous work had hitherto been +that estate of Chantebled, whose overflowing fertility increased at each +successive harvest; and that mill too, so enlarged and so flourishing, +which was the outcome of his own inspiring suggestions, to say nothing of +the prodigious fortunes which his conquering sons had acquired in Paris! +Yet it was all this admirable work, which faith in life had created, that +a fratricidal onslaught upon life was about to destroy! +</p> +<p> +One evening, in the mournful gloaming of one of the last days of +September, the couch on which Marianne lay dying of silent grief was, by +her desire, rolled to the window. Charlotte alone nursed her, and of all +her sons she had but the last one, Benjamin, beside her in the now +over-spacious house which had replaced the old shooting-box. Since the +family had been at war she had kept the doors closed, intent on opening +them only to her children when they became reconciled, if they should +then seek to make her happy by coming to embrace one another beneath her +roof. But she virtually despaired of that sole cure for her grief, the +only joy that would make her live again. +</p> +<p> +That evening, as Mathieu came to sit beside her, and they lingered there +hand in hand according to their wont, they did not at first speak, but +gazed straight before them at the spreading plain; at the estate, whose +interminable fields blended with the mist far away; at the mill yonder on +the banks of the Yeuse, with its tall, smoking chimney; and at Paris +itself on the horizon, where a tawny cloud was rising as from the huge +furnace of some forge. +</p> +<p> +The minutes slowly passed away. During the afternoon Mathieu had taken a +long walk in the direction of the farms of Mareuil and Lillebonne, in the +hope of quieting his torment by physical fatigue. And in a low voice, as +if speaking to himself, he at last said: +</p> +<p> +"The ploughing could not take place under better conditions. Yonder on +the plateau the quality of the soil has been much improved by the recent +methods of cultivation; and here, too, on the slopes, the sandy soil has +been greatly enriched by the new distribution of the springs which +Gervais devised. The estate has almost doubled in value since it has been +in his hands and Claire's. There is no break in the prosperity; labor +yields unlimited victory." +</p> +<p> +"What is the good of it if there is no more love?" murmured Marianne. +</p> +<p> +"Then, too," continued Mathieu, after a pause, "I went down to the Yeuse, +and from a distance I saw that Grégoire had received the new machine +which Denis has just built for him. It was being unloaded in the yard. It +seems that it imparts a certain movement to the mill-stones, which saves +a good third of the power needed. With such appliances the earth may +produce seas of corn for innumerable nations, they will all have bread. +And that mill-engine, with its regular breath and motion, will produce +fresh wealth also." +</p> +<p> +"What use is it if people hate one another?" Marianne exclaimed. +</p> +<p> +At this Mathieu dropped the subject. But, in accordance with a resolution +which he had formed during his walk, he told his wife that he meant to go +to Paris on the morrow. And on noticing her surprise, he pretended that +he wished to see to a certain business matter, the settlement of an old +account. But the truth was, that he could no longer endure the spectacle +of his wife's lingering agony, which brought him so much suffering. He +wished to act, to make a supreme effort at reconciliation. +</p> +<p> +At ten o'clock on the following morning, when Mathieu alighted from the +train at the Paris terminus, he drove direct to the factory at Grenelle. +Before everything else he wished to see Denis, who had hitherto taken no +part in the quarrel. For a long time now, indeed ever since Constance's +death, Denis had been installed in the house on the quay with his wife +Marthe and their three children. This occupation of the luxurious +dwelling set apart for the master had been like a final entry into +possession, with respect to the whole works. True, Beauchêne had lived +several years longer, but his name no longer figured in that of the firm. +He had surrendered his last shred of interest in the business for an +annuity; and at last one evening it was learnt that he had died that day, +struck down by an attack of apoplexy after an over-copious lunch, at the +residence of his lady-friends, the aunt and the niece. He had previously +been sinking into a state of second childhood, the outcome of his life of +fast and furious pleasure. And this, then, was the end of the egotistical +debauchee, ever going from bad to worse, and finally swept into the +gutter. +</p> +<p> +"Why! what good wind has blown you here?" cried Denis gayly, when he +perceived his father. "Have you come to lunch? I'm still a bachelor, you +know; for it is only next Monday that I shall go to fetch Marthe and the +children from Dieppe, where they have spent a delightful September." +</p> +<p> +Then, on hearing that his mother was ailing, even in danger, he become +serious and anxious. +</p> +<p> +"Mamma ill, and in danger! You amaze me. I thought she was simply +troubled with some little indisposition. But come, father, what is really +the matter? Are you hiding something? Is something worrying you?" +</p> +<p> +Thereupon he listened to the plain and detailed statement which Mathieu +felt obliged to make to him. And he was deeply moved by it, as if the +dread of the catastrophe which it foreshadowed would henceforth upset his +life. "What!" he angrily exclaimed, "my brothers are up to these fine +pranks with their idiotic quarrel! I knew that they did not get on well +together. I had heard of things which saddened me, but I never imagined +that matters had gone so far, and that you and mamma were so affected +that you had shut yourselves up and were dying of it all! But things must +be set to rights! One must see Ambroise at once. Let us go and lunch with +him, and finish the whole business." +</p> +<p> +Before starting he had a few orders to give, so Mathieu went down to wait +for him in the factory yard. And there, during the ten minutes which he +spent walking about dreamily, all the distant past arose before his eyes. +He could see himself a mere clerk, crossing that courtyard every morning +on his arrival from Janville, with thirty sous for his lunch in his +pocket. The spot had remained much the same; there was the central +building, with its big clock, the workshops and the sheds, quite a little +town of gray structures, surmounted by two lofty chimneys, which were +ever smoking. True, his son had enlarged this city of toil; the stretch +of ground bordered by the Rue de la Fédération and the Boulevard de +Grenelle had been utilized for the erection of other buildings. And +facing the quay there still stood the large brick house with dressings of +white stone, of which Constance had been so proud, and where, with the +mien of some queen of industry, she had received her friends in her +little <i>salon</i> hung with yellow silk. Eight hundred men now worked in +the place; the ground quivered with the ceaseless trepidation of machinery; +the establishment had grown to be the most important of its kind in +Paris, the one whence came the finest agricultural appliances, the most +powerful mechanical workers of the soil. And it was his, Mathieu's, son +whom fortune had made prince of that branch of industry, and it was his +daughter-in-law who, with her three strong, healthy children near her, +received her friends in the little <i>salon</i> hung with yellow silk. +</p> +<p> +As Mathieu, moved by his recollections, glanced towards the right, +towards the pavilion where he had dwelt with Marianne, and where Gervais +had been born, an old workman who passed, lifted his cap to him, saying, +"Good day, Monsieur Froment." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu thereupon recognized Victor Moineaud, now five-and-fifty years +old, and aged, and wrecked by labor to even a greater degree than his +father had been at the time when mother Moineaud had come to offer the +Monster her children's immature flesh. Entering the works at sixteen +years of age, Victor, like his father, had spent forty years between the +forge and the anvil. It was iniquitous destiny beginning afresh: the most +crushing toil falling upon a beast of burden, the son hebetated after the +father, ground to death under the millstones of wretchedness and +injustice. +</p> +<p> +"Good day, Victor," said Mathieu, "are you well?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh, I'm no longer young, Monsieur Froment," the other replied. "I shall +soon have to look somewhere for a hole to lie in. Still, I hope it won't +be under an omnibus." +</p> +<p> +He alluded to the death of his father, who had finally been picked up +under an omnibus in the Rue de Grenelle, with his skull split and both +legs broken. +</p> +<p> +"But after all," resumed Victor, "one may as well die that way as any +other! It's even quicker. The old man was lucky in having Norine and +Cécile to look after him. If it hadn't been for them, it's starvation +that would have killed him, not an omnibus." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu interrupted. "Are Norine and Cécile well?" he asked. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, Monsieur Froment. Leastways, as far as I know, for, as you can +understand, we don't often see one another. Them and me, that's about all +that's left out of our lot; for Irma won't have anything more to do with +us since she's become one of the toffs. Euphrasie was lucky enough to +die, and that brigand Alfred disappeared, which was real relief, I assure +you; for I feared that I should be seeing him at the galleys. And I was +really pleased when I had some news of Norine and Cécile lately. Norine +is older than I am, you know; she will soon be sixty. But she was always +strong, and her boy, it seems, looks after her. Both she and Cécile still +work; yes, Cécile still lives on, though one used to think that a fillip +would have killed her. It's a pretty home, that one of theirs; two +mothers for a big lad of whom they've made a decent fellow." +</p> +<p> +Mathieu nodded approvingly, and then remarked: "But you yourself, Victor, +had boys and girls who must now in their turn be fathers and mothers." +</p> +<p> +The old workman waved his hand vaguely. +</p> +<p> +"Yes," said he, "I had eight, one more than my father. They've all gone +off, and they are fathers and mothers in their turn, as you say, Monsieur +Froment. It's all chance, you know; one has to live. There are some of +them who certainly don't eat white bread, ah! that they don't. And the +question is whether, when my arms fail me, I shall find one to take me +in, as Norine and Cécile took my father. But when everything's said, what +can you expect? It's all seed of poverty, it can't grow well, or yield +anything good." +</p> +<p> +For a moment he remained silent; then resuming his walk towards the +works, with bent, weary back and hanging hands, dented by toil, he said: +"<i>Au revoir</i>, Monsieur Froment." +</p> +<p> +"<i>Au revoir</i>, Victor," Mathieu answered in a kindly tone. +</p> +<p> +Having given his orders, Denis now came to join his father, and proposed +to him that they should go on foot to the Avenue d'Antin. On the way he +warned him that they would certainly find Ambroise alone, for his wife +and four children were still at Dieppe, where, indeed, the two +sisters-in-law, Andrée and Marthe, had spent the season together. +</p> +<p> +In a period of ten years, Ambroise's fortune had increased tenfold. +Though he was barely five-and-forty, he reigned over the Paris market. +With his spirit of enterprise, he had greatly enlarged the business left +him by old Du Hordel, transforming it into a really universal +<i>comptoir</i>, through which passed merchandise from all parts of the +world. Frontiers did not exist for Ambroise, he enriched himself with +the spoils of the earth, particularly striving to extract from the +colonies all the wealth they were able to yield, and carrying on his +operations with such triumphant audacity, such keen perception, that the +most hazardous of his campaigns ended victoriously. +</p> +<p> +A man of this stamp, whose fruitful activity was ever winning battles, +was certain to devour the idle, impotent Séguins. In the downfall of +their fortune, the dispersal of the home and family, he had carved a +share for himself by securing possession of the house in the Avenue +d'Antin. Séguin himself had not resided there for years, he had thought +it original to live at his club, where he secured accommodation after he +and his wife had separated by consent. Two of the children had also gone +off; Gaston, now a major in the army, was on duty in a distant garrison +town, and Lucie was cloistered in an Ursuline convent. Thus, Valentine, +left to herself and feeling very dreary, no longer able, moreover, to +keep up the establishment on a proper footing, in her turn quitted the +mansion for a cheerful and elegant little flat on the Boulevard +Malesherbes, where she finished her life as a very devout old lady, +presiding over a society for providing poor mothers with baby-linen, and +thus devoting herself to the children of others—she who had not known +how to bring up her own. And, in this wise, Ambroise had simply had to +take possession of the empty mansion, which was heavily mortgaged, to +such an extent, indeed, that when the Séguins died their heirs would +certainly be owing him money. +</p> +<p> +Many were the recollections which awoke when Mathieu, accompanied by +Denis, entered that princely mansion of the Avenue d'Antin! There, as at +the factory, he could see himself arriving in poverty, as a needy tenant +begging his landlord to repair a roof, in order that the rain might no +longer pour down on the four children, whom, with culpable improvidence, +he already had to provide for. There, facing the avenue, was the +sumptuous Renaissance façade with eight lofty windows on each of its +upper floors; there, inside, was the hall, all bronze and marble, +conducting to the spacious ground-floor reception-rooms which a winter +garden prolonged; and there, up above, occupying all the central part of +the first floor, was Séguin's former "cabinet," the vast apartment with +lofty windows of old stained glass. Mathieu could well remember that room +with its profuse and amusing display of "antiquities," old brocades, old +goldsmith's ware and old pottery, and its richly bound books, and its +famous modern pewters. And he remembered it also at a later date, in the +abandonment to which it had fallen, the aspect of ruin which it had +assumed, covered, as it was, with gray dust which bespoke the slow +crumbling of the home. And now he found it once more superb and cheerful, +renovated with healthier and more substantial luxury by Ambroise, who had +put masons and joiners and upholsterers into it for a period of three +months. The whole mansion now lived afresh, more luxurious than ever, +filled at winter-time with sounds of festivity, enlivened by the laughter +of four happy children, and the blaze of a living fortune which effort +and conquest ever renewed. And it was no longer Séguin, the idler, the +artisan of nothingness, whom Mathieu came to see there, it was his own +son Ambroise, a man of creative energy, whose victory had been sought by +the very forces of life, which had made him triumph there, installed him +as the master in the home of the vanquished. +</p> +<p> +When Mathieu and Denis arrived Ambroise was absent, but was expected home +for lunch. They waited for him, and as the former again crossed the +ante-room the better to judge of some new arrangements that had been +made, he was surprised at being stopped by a lady who was sitting there +patiently, and whom he had not previously noticed. +</p> +<p> +"I see that Monsieur Froment does not recognize me," she said. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu made a vague gesture. The woman had a tall, plump figure, and was +certainly more than sixty years of age; but she evidently took care of +her person, and had a smiling mien, with a long, full face and almost +venerable white hair. One might have taken her for some worthy, +well-to-do provincial <i>bourgeoise</i> in full dress. +</p> +<p> +"Céleste," said she. "Céleste, Madame Séguin's former maid." +</p> +<p> +Thereupon he fully recognized her, but hid his stupefaction at finding +her so fortunately circumstanced at the close of her career. He had +imagined that she was buried in some sewer. +</p> +<p> +In a gay, placid way she proceeded to recount her happiness: "Oh! I am +very pleased," she said; "I had retired to Rougemont, my birth-place, and +I ended by there marrying a retired naval officer, who has a very +comfortable pension, not to speak of a little fortune which his first +wife left him. As he has two big sons, I ventured to recommend the +younger one to Monsieur Ambroise, who was kind enough to take him into +his counting-house. And so I have profited by my first journey to Paris +since then, to come and give Monsieur Ambroise my best thanks." +</p> +<p> +She did not say how she had managed to marry the retired naval officer; +how she had originally been a servant in his household, and how she had +hastened his first wife's death in order to marry him. All things +considered, however, she rendered him very happy, and even rid him of his +sons, who were in his way, thanks to the relations she had kept up in +Paris. +</p> +<p> +She continued smiling like a worthy woman, whose feelings softened at the +recollection of the past. "You can have no idea how pleased I felt when I +saw you pass just now, Monsieur Froment," she resumed. "Ah! it was a long +time ago that I first had the honor of seeing you here! You remember La +Couteau, don't you? She was always complaining, was she not? But she is +very well pleased now; she and her husband have retired to a pretty +little house of their own, with some little savings which they live on +very quietly. She is no longer young, but she has buried a good many in +her time, and she'll bury more before she has finished! For instance, +Madame Menoux—you must surely remember Madame Menoux, the little +haberdasher close by—well, there was a woman now who never had any +luck! She lost her second child, and she lost that big fellow, her husband, +whom she was so fond of, and she herself died of grief six months +afterwards. I did at one time think of taking her to Rougemont, where the +air is so good for one's health. There are old folks of ninety living +there. Take La Couteau, for instance, she will live as long as she likes! +Oh! yes, it is a very pleasant part indeed, a perfect paradise." +</p> +<p> +At these words the abominable Rougemont, the bloody Rougemont, arose +before Mathieu's eyes, rearing its peaceful steeple above the low plain, +with its cemetery paved with little Parisians, where wild flowers bloomed +and hid the victims of so many murders. +</p> +<p> +But Céleste was rattling on again, saying: "You remember Madame Bourdieu +whom you used to know in the Rue de Miromesnil; she died very near our +village on some property where she went to live when she gave up +business, a good many years ago. She was luckier than her colleague La +Rouche, who was far too good-natured with people. You must have read +about her case in the newspapers, she was sent to prison with a medical +man named Sarraille." +</p> +<p> +"La Rouche! Sarraille!" Yes, Mathieu had certainly read the trial of +those two social pests, who were fated to meet at last in their work of +iniquity. And what an echo did those names awaken in the past: Valérie +Morange! Reine Morange! Already in the factory yard Mathieu had fancied +that he could see the shadow of Morange gliding past him—the +punctual, timid, soft-hearted accountant, whom misfortune and insanity +had carried off into the darkness. And suddenly the unhappy man here +again appeared to Mathieu, like a wandering phantom, the restless victim +of all the imbecile ambition, all the desperate craving for pleasure +which animated the period; a poor, weak, mediocre being, so cruelly +punished for the crimes of others, that he was doubtless unable to sleep +in the tomb into which he had flung himself, bleeding, with broken +limbs. And before Mathieu's eyes there likewise passed the spectre of +Séraphine, with the fierce and pain-fraught face of one who is racked +and killed by insatiate desire. +</p> +<p> +"Well, excuse me for having ventured to stop you, Monsieur Froment," +Céleste concluded; "but I am very, very pleased at having met you again." +</p> +<p> +He was still looking at her; and as he quitted her he said, with the +indulgence born of his optimism: "May you keep happy since you are happy. +Happiness must know what it does." +</p> +<p> +Nevertheless, Mathieu remained disturbed, as he thought of the apparent +injustice of impassive nature. The memory of his Marianne, struck down by +such deep grief, pining away through the impious quarrels of her sons, +returned to him. And as Ambroise at last came in and gayly embraced him, +after receiving Céleste's thanks, he felt a thrill of anguish, for the +decisive moment which would save or wreck the family was now at hand. +</p> +<p> +Indeed, Denis, after inviting himself and Mathieu to lunch, promptly +plunged into the subject. +</p> +<p> +"We are not here for the mere pleasure of lunching with you," said he; +"mamma is ill, did you know it?" +</p> +<p> +"Ill?" said Ambroise. "Not seriously ill?" +</p> +<p> +"Yes, very ill, in danger. And are you aware that she has been ill like +this ever since she came to speak to you about the quarrel between +Grégoire and Gervais, when it seems that you treated her very roughly." +</p> +<p> +"I treated her roughly? We simply talked business, and perhaps I spoke to +her like a business man, a little bluntly." +</p> +<p> +Then Ambroise turned towards Mathieu, who was waiting, pale and silent: +"Is it true, father, that mamma is ill and causes you anxiety?" +</p> +<p> +And as his father replied with a long affirmative nod, he gave vent to +his emotion, even as Denis had done at the works immediately on learning +the truth. +</p> +<p> +"But dash it all," he said; "this affair is becoming quite idiotic! In my +opinion Grégoire is right and Gervais wrong. Only I don't care a fig +about that; they must make it up at once, so that poor mamma may not have +another moment's suffering. But then, why did you shut yourselves up? Why +did you not let us know how grieved you were? Every one would have +reflected and understood things." +</p> +<p> +Then, all at once, Ambroise embraced his father with that promptness of +decision which he displayed to such happy effect in business as soon as +ever a ray of light illumined his mind. +</p> +<p> +"After all, father," said he; "you are the cleverest; you understand +things and foresee them. Even if Grégoire were within his rights in +bringing an action against Gervais, it would be idiotic for him to do so, +because far above any petty private interest, there is the interest of +all of us, the interest of the family, which is to remain, united, +compact, and unattackable, if it desires to continue invincible. Our +sovereign strength lies in our union—And so it's simple enough. We +will lunch as quickly as possible and take the first train. We shall go, +Denis and I, to Chantebled with you. Peace must be concluded this evening. +I will see to it." +</p> +<p> +Laughing, and well pleased to find his own feelings shared by his two +sons, Mathieu returned Ambroise's embrace. And while waiting for lunch +to be served, they went down to see the winter garden, which was being +enlarged for some <i>fêtes</i> which Ambroise wished to give. He took +pleasure in adding to the magnificence of the mansion, and in reigning +there with princely pomp. At lunch he apologized for only offering his +father and brother a bachelor's pot-luck, though, truth to tell, the +fare was excellent. Indeed, whenever Andrée and the children absented +themselves, Ambroise still kept a good cook to minister to his needs, +for he held the cuisine of restaurants in horror. +</p> +<p> +"Well, for my part," said Denis, "I go to a restaurant for my meals; for +since Marthe and all the others have been at Dieppe, I have virtually +shut up the house." +</p> +<p> +"You are a wise man, you see," Ambroise answered, with quiet frankness. +"For my part, as you are aware, I am an enjoyer. Now, make haste and +drink your coffee, and we will start." +</p> +<p> +They reached Janville by the two o'clock train. Their plan was to repair +to Chantebled in the first instance, in order that Ambroise and Denis +might begin by talking to Gervais, who was of a gentler nature than +Grégoire, and with whom they thought they might devise some means of +conciliation. Then they intended to betake themselves to the mill, +lecture Grégoire, and impose on him such peace conditions as they might +have agreed upon. As they drew nearer and nearer to the farm, however, +the difficulties of their undertaking appeared to them, and seemed to +increase in magnitude. An arrangement would not be arrived at so easily +as they had at first imagined. So they girded their loins in readiness +for a hard battle. +</p> +<p> +"Suppose we begin by going to see mamma," Denis suggested. "We should see +and embrace her, and that would give us some courage." +</p> +<p> +Ambroise deemed the idea an excellent one. "Yes, let us go by all means, +particularly as mamma has always been a good counsellor. She must have +some idea." +</p> +<p> +They climbed to the first floor of the house, to the spacious room where +Marianne spent her days on a couch beside the window. And to their +stupefaction they found her seated on that couch with Grégoire standing +by her and holding both her hands, while on the other side were Gervais +and Claire, laughing softly. +</p> +<p> +"Why! what is this?" exclaimed Ambroise in amazement. "The work is done!" +</p> +<p> +"And we who despaired of being able to accomplish it!" declared Denis, +with a gesture of bewilderment. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu was equally stupefied and delighted, and on noticing the surprise +occasioned by the arrival of the two big brothers from Paris, he +proceeded to explain the position. +</p> +<p> +"I went to Paris this morning to fetch them," he said, "and I've brought +them here to reconcile us all!" +</p> +<p> +A joyous peal of laughter resounded. The big brothers were too late! +Neither their wisdom nor their diplomacy had been needed. They themselves +made merry over it, feeling the while greatly relieved that the victory +should have been won without any battle. +</p> +<p> +Marianne, whose eyes were moist, and who felt divinely happy, so happy +that she seemed already well again, simply replied to Mathieu: "You see, +my friend, it's done. But as yet I know nothing further. Grégoire came +here and kissed me, and wished me to send for Gervais and Claire at once. +Then, of his own accord, he told them that they were all three mad in +causing me such grief, and that they ought to come to an understanding +together. Thereupon they kissed one another. And now it's done; it's all +over." +</p> +<p> +But Grégoire gayly intervened. "Wait a moment; just listen; I cut too +fine a figure in the story as mamma relates it, and I must tell you the +truth. I wasn't the first to desire the reconciliation; the first was my +wife, Thérèse. She has a good sterling heart and the very brains of a +mule, in such wise that whenever she is determined on anything I always +have to do it in the end. Well, yesterday evening we had a bit of a +quarrel, for she had heard, I don't know how, that mamma was ill with +grief. And this pained her, and she tried to prove to me how stupid the +quarrel was, for we should all of us lose by it. This morning she began +again, and of course she convinced me, more particularly as, with the +thought of poor mamma lying ill through our fault, I had hardly slept all +night. But father Lepailleur still had to be convinced, and Thérèse +undertook to do that also. She even hit upon something extraordinary, so +that the old man might imagine that he was the conqueror of conquerors. +She persuaded him at last to sell you that terrible enclosure at such an +insane price that he will be able to shout 'victory!' over all the +house-tops." +</p> +<p> +Then turning to his brother and sister, Grégoire added, in a jocular +tone; "My dear Gervais, my dear Claire, let yourselves be robbed, I beg +of you. The peace of my home is at stake. Give my father-in-law the last +joy of believing that he alone has always been in the right, and that we +have never been anything but fools." +</p> +<p> +"Oh! as much money as he likes," replied Gervais, laughing. "Besides, +that enclosure has always been a dishonor for the estate, streaking it +with stones and brambles, like a nasty sore. We have long dreamt of +seeing the property spotless, with its crops waving without a break under +the sun. And Chantebled is rich enough to pay for its glory." +</p> +<p> +Thus the affair was settled. The wheat of the farm would return to the +mill to be ground, and the mother would get well again. It was the force +of life, the need of love, the union necessary for the whole family if it +were to continue victorious, that had imposed true brotherliness on the +sons, who for a moment had been foolish enough to destroy their power by +assailing one another. +</p> +<p> +The delight of finding themselves once more together there, Denis, +Ambroise, Gervais, Grégoire, the four big brothers, and Claire, the big +sister, all reconciled and again invincible, increased when Charlotte +arrived, bringing with her the other three daughters, Louise, Madeleine, +and Marthe, who had married and settled in the district. Louise, having +heard that her mother was ill, had gone to fetch her sisters, in order +that they might repair to Chantebled together. And what a hearty laugh +there was when the procession entered! +</p> +<p> +"Let them all come!" cried Ambroise, in a jocular way. "Let's have the +family complete, a real meeting of the great privy council. You see, +mamma, you must get well at once; the whole of your court is at your +knees, and unanimously decides that it can no longer allow you to have +even a headache." +</p> +<p> +Then, as Benjamin put in an appearance the very last, behind the three +sisters, the laughter broke out afresh. +</p> +<p> +"And to think that we were forgetting Benjamin!" Mathieu exclaimed. +</p> +<p> +"Come, little one, come and kiss me in your turn," said Marianne +affectionately, in a low voice. "The others jest because you are the last +of the brood. But if I spoil you that only concerns ourselves, does it +not? Tell them that you spent the morning with me, and that if you went +out for a walk it was because I wished you to do so." +</p> +<p> +Benjamin smiled with a gentle and rather sad expression. "But I was +downstairs, mamma; I saw them go up one after the other. I waited for +them all to kiss, before coming up in my turn." +</p> +<p> +He was already one-and-twenty and extremely handsome, with a bright face, +large brown eyes, long curly hair, and a frizzy, downy beard. Though he +had never been ill, his mother would have it that he was weak, and +insisted on coddling him. All of them, moreover, were very fond of him, +both for his grace of person and the gentle charm of his disposition. He +had grown up in a kind of dream, full of a desire which he could not put +into words, ever seeking the unknown, something which he knew not, did +not possess. And when his parents saw that he had no taste for any +profession, and that even the idea of marrying did not appeal to him, +they evinced no anger, but, on the contrary, they secretly plotted to +keep this son, their last-born, life's final gift, to themselves. Had +they not surrendered all the others? Would they not be forgiven for +yielding to the egotism of love by reserving one for themselves, one who +would be theirs entirely, who would never marry, or toil and moil, but +would merely live beside them and love them, and be loved in return? This +was the dream of their old age, the share which, in return for long +fruitfulness, they would have liked to snatch from devouring life, which, +though it gives one everything, yet takes everything away. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! just listen, Benjamin," Ambroise suddenly resumed, "you are +interested in our brave Nicolas, I know. Would you like to have some news +of him? I heard from him only the day before yesterday. And it's right +that I should speak of him, since he's the only one of the brood, as +mamma puts it, who cannot be here." +</p> +<p> +Benjamin at once became quite excited, asking, "Is it true? Has he +written to you? What does he say? What is he doing?" +</p> +<p> +He could never think without emotion of Nicolas's departure for Senegal. +He was twelve years old at that time, and nearly nine years had gone by +since then, yet the scene, with that eternal farewell, that flight, as it +were, into the infinite of time and hope, was ever present in his mind. +</p> +<p> +"You know that I have business relations with Nicolas," resumed Ambroise. +"Oh! if we had but a few fellows as intelligent and courageous as he is +in our colonies, we should soon rake in all the scattered wealth of those +virgin lands. Well, Nicolas, as you are aware, went to Senegal with +Lisbeth, who was the very companion and helpmate he needed. Thanks to the +few thousand francs which they possessed between them, they soon +established a prosperous business; but I divined that the field was still +too small for them, and that they dreamt of clearing and conquering a +larger expanse. And now, all at once, Nicolas writes to me that he is +starting for the Soudan, the valley of the Niger, which has only lately +been opened. He is taking his wife and his four children with him, and +they are all going off to conquer as fortune may will it, like valiant +pioneers beset by the idea of founding a new world. I confess that it +amazes me, for it is a very hazardous enterprise. But all the same one +must admit that our Nicolas is a very plucky fellow, and one can't help +admiring his great energy and faith in thus setting out for an almost +unknown region, fully convinced that he will subject and populate it." +</p> +<p> +Silence fell. A great gust seemed to have swept by, the gust of the +infinite coming from the far away mysterious virgin plains. And the +family could picture that young fellow, one of themselves, going off +through the deserts, carrying the good seed of humanity under the +spreading sky into unknown climes. +</p> +<p> +"Ah!" said Benjamin softly, his eyes dilating and gazing far, far away as +if to the world's end; "ah! he's happy, for he sees other rivers, and +other forests, and other suns than ours!" +</p> +<p> +But Marianne shuddered. "No, no, my boy," said she; "there are no other +rivers than the Yeuse, no other forests but our woods of Lillebonne, no +other sun but that of Chantebled. Come and kiss me again—let us all +kiss once more, and I shall get well, and we shall never be parted again." +</p> +<p> +The laughter began afresh with the embraces. It was a great day, a day of +victory, the most decisive victory which the family had ever won by +refusing to let discord destroy it. Henceforth it would be invincible. +</p> +<p> +At twilight, on the evening of that day, Mathieu and Marianne again found +themselves, as on the previous evening, hand in hand near the window +whence they could see the estate stretching to the horizon; that horizon +behind which arose the breath of Paris, the tawny cloud of its gigantic +forge. But how little did that serene evening resemble the other, and how +great was their present felicity, their trust in the goodness of their +work. +</p> +<p> +"Do you feel better?" Mathieu asked his wife; "do you feel your strength +returning; does your heart beat more freely?" +</p> +<p> +"Oh! my friend, I feel cured; I was only pining with grief. To-morrow I +shall be strong." +</p> +<p> +Then Mathieu sank into a deep reverie, as he sat there face to face with +his conquest—that estate which spread out under the setting sun. And +again, as in the morning, did recollections crowd upon him; he remembered +a morning more than forty years previously when he had left Marianne, +with thirty sous in her purse, in the little tumbledown shooting-box on +the verge of the woods. They lived there on next to nothing; they owed +money, they typified gay improvidence with the four little mouths which +they already had to feed, those children who had sprung from their love, +their faith in life. +</p> +<p> +Then he recalled his return home at night time, the three hundred francs, +a month's salary, which he had carried in his pocket, the calculations +which he had made, the cowardly anxiety which he had felt, disturbed as +he was by the poisonous egotism which he had encountered in Paris. There +were the Beauchênes, with their factory, and their only son, Maurice, +whom they were bringing up to be a future prince, the Beauchênes, who had +prophesied to him that he and his wife and their troop of children could +only expect a life of black misery, and death in a garret. There were +also the Séguins, then his landlords, who had shown him their millions, +and their magnificent mansion, full of treasures, crushing him the while, +treating him with derisive pity because he did not behave sensibly like +themselves, who were content with having but two children, a boy and a +girl. And even those poor Moranges had talked to him of giving a royal +dowry to their one daughter Reine, dreaming at that time of an +appointment that would bring in twelve thousand francs a year, and full +of contempt for the misery which a numerous family entails. And then the +very Lepailleurs, the people of the mill, had evinced distrust because +there were twelve francs owing to them for milk and eggs; for it had +seemed to them doubtful whether a <i>bourgeois</i>, insane enough to have +so many children, could possibly pay his debts. Ah! the views of the others +had then appeared to be correct; he had repeated to himself that he would +never have a factory, nor a mansion, nor even a mill, and that in all +probability he would never earn twelve thousand francs a year. The others +had everything and he nothing. The others, the rich, behaved sensibly, +and did not burden themselves with offspring; whereas, he, the poor man, +already had more children than he could provide for. What madness it had +seemed to be! +</p> +<p> +But forty years had rolled away, and behold his madness was wisdom! He +had conquered by his divine improvidence; the poor man had vanquished the +wealthy. He had placed his trust in the future, and now the whole harvest +was garnered. The Beauchêne factory was his through his son Denis; the +Séguins' mansion was his through his son Ambroise; the Lepailleurs' mill +was his through his son Grégoire. Tragical, even excessive punishment, +had blown those sorry Moranges away in a tempest of blood and insanity. +And other social wastage had swept by and rolled into the gutter; +Séraphine, the useless creature, had succumbed to her passions; the +Moineauds had been dispersed, annihilated by their poisonous environment. +And he, Mathieu, and Marianne alone remained erect, face to face with +that estate of Chantebled, which they had conquered from the Séguins, and +where their children, Gervais and Claire, at present reigned, prolonging +the dynasty of their race. This was their kingdom; as far as the eye +could see the fields spread out with wondrous fertility under the sun's +farewell, proclaiming the battles, the heroic creative labor of their +lives. There was their work, there was what they had produced, whether in +the realm of animate or inanimate nature, thanks to the power of love +within them, and their energy of will. By love, and resolution, and +action, they had created a world. +</p> +<p> +"Look, look!" murmured Mathieu, waving his arm, "all that has sprung from +us, and we must continue to love, we must continue to be happy, in order +that it may all live." +</p> +<p> +"Ah!" Marianne gayly replied, "it will live forever now, since we have +all become reconciled and united amid our victory." +</p> +<p> +Victory! yes, it was the natural, necessary victory that is reaped by the +numerous family! Thanks to numbers they had ended by invading every +sphere and possessing everything. Fruitfulness was the invincible, +sovereign conqueress. Yet their conquest had not been meditated and +planned; ever serenely loyal in their dealings with others, they owed it +simply to the fulfilment of duty throughout their long years of toil. And +they now stood before it hand in hand, like heroic figures, glorious +because they had ever been good and strong, because they had created +abundantly, because they had given abundance of joy, and health, and hope +to the world amid all the everlasting struggles and the everlasting +tears. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<h4><a id="XXIII">XXIII</a></h4> + +<p> +AND Mathieu and Marianne lived more than a score of years longer, and +Mathieu was ninety years old and Marianne eighty-seven, when their three +eldest sons, Denis, Ambroise, and Gervais, ever erect beside them, +planned that they would celebrate their diamond wedding, the seventieth +anniversary of their marriage, by a <i>fête</i> at which they would +assemble all the members of the family at Chantebled. +</p> +<p> +It was no little affair. When they had drawn up a complete list, they +found that one hundred and fifty-eight children, grandchildren, and +great-grandchildren had sprung from Mathieu and Marianne, without +counting a few little ones of a fourth generation. By adding to the above +those who had married into the family as husbands and wives they would be +three hundred in number. And where at the farm could they find a room +large enough for the huge table of the patriarchal feast that they dreamt +of? The anniversary fell on June 2, and the spring that year was one of +incomparable mildness and beauty. So they decided that they would lunch +out of doors, and place the tables in front of the old pavilion, on the +large lawn, enclosed by curtains of superb elms and hornbeams, which gave +the spot the aspect of a huge hall of verdure. There they would be at +home, on the very breast of the beneficent earth, under the central and +now gigantic oak, planted by the two ancestors, whose blessed +fruitfulness the whole swarming progeny was about to celebrate. +</p> +<p> +Thus the festival was settled and organized amid a great impulse of love +and joy. All were eager to take part in it, all hastened to the triumphal +gathering, from the white-haired old men to the urchins who still sucked +their thumbs. And the broad blue sky and the flaming sun were bent on +participating in it also, as well as the whole estate, the streaming +springs and the fields in flower, giving promise of bounteous harvests. +Magnificent looked the huge horseshoe table set out amid the grass, with +handsome china and snowy cloths which the sunbeams flecked athwart the +foliage. The august pair, the father and mother, were to sit side by +side, in the centre, under the oak tree. It was decided also that the +other couples should not be separated, that it would be charming to place +them side by side according to the generation they belonged to. But as +for the young folks, the youths and maidens, the urchins and the little +girls, they, it was thought, might well be left to seat themselves as +their fancy listed. +</p> +<p> +Early in the morning those bidden to the feast began to arrive in bands; +the dispersed family returned to the common nest, swooping down upon it +from the four points of the compass. But alas! death's scythe had been at +work, and there were many who could not come. Departed ones slept, each +year more numerous, in the peaceful, flowery, Janville cemetery. Near +Rose and Blaise, who had been the first to depart, others had gone +thither to sleep the eternal sleep, each time carrying away a little more +of the family's heart, and making of that sacred spot a place of worship +and eternal souvenir. First Charlotte, after long illness, had joined +Blaise, happy in leaving Berthe to replace her beside Mathieu and +Marianne, who were heart-stricken by her death, as if indeed they were +for the second time losing their dear son. Afterwards their daughter +Claire had likewise departed from them, leaving the farm to her husband +Frédéric and her brother Gervais, who likewise had become a widower +during the ensuing year. Then, too, Mathieu and Marianne had lost their +son Grégoire, the master of the mill, whose widow Thérèse still ruled +there amid a numerous progeny. And again they had to mourn another of +their daughters, the kind-hearted Marguerite, Dr. Chambouvet's wife, who +sickened and died, through having sheltered a poor workman's little +children, who were affected with croup. And the other losses could no +longer be counted among them were some who had married into the family, +wives and husbands, and there were in particular many children, the tithe +that death always exacts, those who are struck down by the storms which +sweep over the human crop, all the dear little ones for whom the living +weep, and who sanctify the ground in which they rest. +</p> +<p> +But if the dear departed yonder slept in deepest silence, how gay was the +uproar and how great the victory of life that morning along the roads +which led to Chantebled! The number of those who were born surpassed that +of those who died. From each that departed, a whole florescence of living +beings seemed to blossom forth. They sprang up in dozens from the ground +where their forerunners had laid themselves to sleep when weary of their +work. And they flocked to Chantebled from every side, even as swallows +return at spring to revivify their old nests, filling the blue sky with +the joy of their return. Outside the farm, vehicles were ever setting +down fresh families with troops of children, whose sea of fair heads was +always expanding. Great-grandfathers with snowy hair came leading little +ones who could scarcely toddle. There were very nice-looking old ladies +whom young girls of dazzling freshness assisted to alight. There were +mothers expecting the arrival of other babes, and fathers to whom the +charming idea had occurred of inviting their daughters' affianced lovers. +And they were all related, they had all sprung from a common ancestry, +they were all mingled in an inextricable tangle, fathers, mothers, +brothers, sisters, fathers-in-law, mothers-in-law, brothers-in-law, +sisters-in-law, sons, daughters, uncles, aunts, and cousins, of every +possible degree, down to the fourth generation. And they were all one +family; one sole little nation, assembling in joy and pride to celebrate +that diamond wedding, the rare prodigious nuptials of two heroic +creatures whom life had glorified and from whom all had sprung! And what +an epic, what a Biblical numbering of that people suggested itself! How +even name all those who entered the farm, how simply set forth their +names, their ages, their degree of relationship, the health, the +strength, and the hope that they had brought into the world! +</p> +<p> +Before everybody else there were those of the farm itself, all those who +had been born and who had grown up there. Gervais, now sixty-two, was +helped by his two eldest sons, Leon and Henri, who between them had ten +children; while his three daughters, Mathilde, Leontine, and Julienne, +who were married in the district, in like way numbered between them +twelve. Then Frédéric, Claire's husband, who was five years older than +Gervais, had surrendered his post as a faithful lieutenant to his son +Joseph, while his daughters Angèle and Lucille, as well as a second son +Jules, also helped on the farm, the four supplying a troop of fifteen +children, some of them boys and some girls. +</p> +<p> +Then, of all those who came from without, the mill claimed the first +place. Thérèse, Grégoire's widow, arrived with her offspring, her son +Robert, who now managed the mill under her control, and her three +daughters, Geneviève, Aline, and Natalie, followed by quite a train of +children, ten belonging to the daughters and four to Robert. Next came +Louise, notary Mazaud's wife, and Madeleine, architect Herbette's wife, +followed by Dr. Chambouvet, who had lost his wife, the good Marguerite. +And here again were three valiant companies; in the first, four +daughters, of whom Colette was the eldest; in the second, five sons with +Hilary at the head of them; and in the third, a son and daughter only, +Sébastien and Christine; the whole, however, forming quite an army, for +there were twenty of Mathieu's great-grandchildren in the rear. +</p> +<p> +But Paris arrived on the scene with Denis and his wife Marthe, who headed +a grand <i>cortège</i>. Denis, now nearly seventy, and a great-grandfather +through his daughters Hortense and Marcelle, had enjoyed the happy rest +which follows accomplished labor ever since he had handed his works over +to his eldest sons Lucien and Paul, who were both men of more than forty, +and whose own sons were already on the road to every sort of fortune. And +what with the mother and father, the four children, the fifteen +grandchildren, and the three great-grandchildren, two of whom were yet in +swaddling clothes, this was really an invading tribe packed into five +vehicles. +</p> +<p> +Then the final entry was that of the little nation which had sprung from +Ambroise, who to his great grief had early lost his wife Andrée. His +was such a green old age that at sixty-seven he still directed his +business, in which his sons Léonce and Charles remained simple +<i>employés</i> like his sons-in-law—the husbands of his +daughters, Pauline and Sophie—who trembled before him, uncontested +king that he remained, obeyed by one and all, grandfather of seven big +bearded young men and nine strong young women, through four of whom he +had become a great-grandfather even before his elder, the wise Denis. +For this troop six carriages were required. And the <i>défilé</i> +lasted two hours, and the farm was soon full of a happy, laughing +throng, holiday-making in the bright June sunlight. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu and Marianne had not yet put in an appearance. Ambroise, who was +the grand master of the ceremonies that day, had made them promise to +remain in their room, like sovereigns hidden from their people, until he +should go to fetch them. He desired that they should appear in all +solemnity. And when he made up his mind to summon them, the whole nation +being assembled together, he found his brother Benjamin on the threshold +of the house defending the door like a bodyguard. +</p> +<p> +He, Benjamin, had remained the one idler, the one unfruitful scion of +that swarming tribe, which had toiled and multiplied so prodigiously. Now +three-and-forty years of age, without a wife and without children, he +lived, it seemed, solely for the joy of the old home, as a companion to +his father and a passionate worshipper of his mother, who with the +egotism of love had set themselves upon keeping him for themselves alone. +At first they had not been opposed to his marrying, but when they had +seen him refuse one match after another, they had secretly felt great +delight. Nevertheless, as years rolled by, some unacknowledged remorse +had come to them amid their happiness at having him beside them like some +hoarded treasure, the delight of an avaricious old age, following a life +of prodigality. Did not their Benjamin suffer at having been thus +monopolized, shut up for their sole pleasure within the four walls of +their house? He had at all times displayed an anxious dreaminess, his +eyes had ever sought far-away things, the unknown land where perfect +satisfaction dwelt, yonder, behind the horizon. And now that age was +stealing upon him his torment seemed to increase, as if he were in +despair at finding himself unable to try the possibilities of the +unknown, before he ended a useless life devoid of happiness. +</p> +<p> +However, Benjamin moved away from the door, Ambroise gave his orders, and +Mathieu and Marianne appeared upon the verdant lawn in the sunlight. An +acclamation, merry laughter, affectionate clapping of hands greeted them. +The gay excited throng, the whole swarming family cried aloud: "Long live +the Father! Long live the Mother! Long life, long life to the Father and +the Mother!" +</p> +<p> +At ninety years of age Mathieu was still very upright and slim, closely +buttoned in a black frock-coat like a young bridegroom. Over his bare +head fell a snowy fleece, for after long wearing his hair cut short he +had now in a final impulse of coquetry allowed it to grow, so that it +seemed liked the <i>renouveau</i> of an old but vigorous tree. Age might +have withered and worn and wrinkled his face, but he still retained the +eyes of his young days, large lustrous eyes, at once smiling and pensive, +which still bespoke a man of thought and action, one who was very simple, +very gay, and very good-hearted. And Marianne at eighty-seven years of +age also held herself very upright in her light bridal gown, still strong +and still showing some of the healthy beauty of other days. With hair +white like Mathieu's, and softened face, illumined as by a last glow +under her silky tresses, she resembled one of those sacred marbles whose +features time has ravined, without, however, being able to efface from +them the tranquil splendor of life. She seemed, indeed, like some +fruitful Cybele, retaining all firmness of contour, and living anew in +the broad daylight with gentle good humor sparkling in her large black +eyes. +</p> +<p> +Arm-in-arm close to one another, like a worthy couple who had come from +afar, who had walked on side by side without ever parting for seventy +long years, Mathieu and Marianne smiled with tears of joy in their eyes +at the whole swarming family which had sprung from their love, and which +still acclaimed them: +</p> +<p> +"Long live the Father! Long live the Mother! Long life, long life to the +Father and the Mother!" +</p> +<p> +Then came the ceremony of reciting a compliment and offering a bouquet. A +fair-haired little girl named Rose, five years of age, had been intrusted +with this duty. She had been chosen because she was the eldest child of +the fourth generation. She was the daughter of Angeline, who was the +daughter of Berthe, who was the daughter of Charlotte, wife of Blaise. +And when the two ancestors saw her approach them with her big bouquet, +their emotion increased, happy tears again gathered in their eyes, and +recollections faltered on their lips: "Oh! our little Rose! Our Blaise, +our Charlotte!" +</p> +<p> +All the past revived before them. The name of Rose had been given to the +child in memory of the other long-mourned Rose, who had been the first to +leave them, and who slept yonder in the little cemetery. There in his +turn had Blaise been laid, and thither Charlotte had followed them. Then +Berthe, Blaise's daughter, who had married Philippe Havard, had given +birth to Angeline. And, later, Angeline, having married Georges Delmas, +had given birth to Rose. Berthe and Philippe Havard, Angeline and Georges +Delmas stood behind the child. And she represented one and all, the dead, +the living, the whole flourishing line, its many griefs, its many joys, +all the valiant toil of creation, all the river of life that it typified, +for everything ended in her, dear, frail, fair-haired angel, with eyes +bright like the dawn, in whose depths the future sparkled. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! our Rose! our Rose!" +</p> +<p> +With a big bouquet between her little hands Rose had stepped forward. She +had been learning a very fine compliment for a fortnight past, and that +very morning she had recited it to her mother without making a single +mistake. But when she found herself there among all these people she +could not recollect a word of it. Still that did not trouble her, she was +already a very bold little damsel, and she frankly dropped her bouquet +and sprang at the necks of Mathieu and Marianne, exclaiming in her +shrill, flute-like voice: "Grandpapa, grandmamma, it's your <i>fête</i>, +and I kiss you with all my heart!" +</p> +<p> +And that suited everybody remarkably well. They even found it far better +than any compliment. Laughter and clapping of hands and acclamations +again arose. Then they forthwith began to take their seats at table. +</p> +<p> +This, however, was quite an affair, so large was the horse-shoe table +spread out under the oak on the short, freshly cut grass. First Mathieu +and Marianne, still arm in arm, went ceremoniously to seat themselves in +the centre with their backs towards the trunk of the great tree. On +Mathieu's left, Marthe and Denis, Louise and her husband, notary Mazaud, +took their places, since it had been fittingly decided that the husbands +and wives should not be separated. On the right of Marianne came +Ambroise, Thérèse, Gervais, Dr. Chambouvet, three widowers and a widow, +then another married couple, Madeleine and her husband, architect +Herbette, and then Benjamin alone. The other married folks afterwards +installed themselves according to the generation they belonged to; and +then, as had been decided, youth and childhood, the whole troop of young +people and little ones took seats as they pleased amid no little +turbulence. +</p> +<p> +What a moment of sovereign glory it was for Mathieu and Marianne! They +found themselves there in a triumph of which they would never have dared +to dream. Life, as if to reward them for having shown faith in her, for +having increased her sway with all bravery, seemed to have taken pleasure +in prolonging their existences beyond the usual limits so that their eyes +might behold the marvellous blossoming of their work. The whole of their +dear Chantebled, everything good and beautiful that they had there +begotten and established, participated in the festival. From the +cultivated fields that they had set in the place of marshes came the +broad quiver of great coming harvests; from the pasture lands amid the +distant woods came the warm breath of cattle and innumerable flocks which +ever increased the ark of life; and they heard, too, the loud babble of +the captured springs with which they had fertilized the now fruitful +moorlands, the flow of that water which is like the very blood of our +mother earth. The social task was accomplished, bread was won, +subsistence had been created, drawn from the nothingness of barren soil. +</p> +<p> +And on what a lovely and well-loved spot did their happy, grateful race +offer them that festival! Those elms and hornbeams, which made the lawn a +great hall of greenery, had been planted by themselves; they had seen +them growing day by day like the most peaceable and most sturdy of their +children. And in particular that oak, now so gigantic, thanks to the +clear waters of the adjoining basin through which one of the sources ever +streamed, was their own big son, one that dated from the day when they +had founded Chantebled, he, Mathieu, digging the hole and she, Marianne, +holding the sapling erect. And now, as that tree stood there, shading +them with its expanse of verdure, was it not like some royal symbol of +the whole family? Like that oak the family had grown and multiplied, ever +throwing out fresh branches which spread far over the ground; and like +that oak it now formed by itself a perfect forest sprung from a single +trunk, vivified by the same sap, strong in the same health, and full of +song, and breeziness, and sunlight. +</p> +<p> +Leaning against that giant tree Mathieu and Marianne became merged in its +sovereign glory and majesty, and was not their royalty akin to its own? +Had they not begotten as many beings as the tree had begotten branches? +Did they not reign there over a nation of their children, who lived by +them, even as the leaves above lived by the tree? The three hundred big +and little ones seated around them were but a prolongation of themselves; +they belonged to the same tree of life, they had sprung from their love +and still clung to them by every fibre. Mathieu and Marianne divined how +joyous they all were at glorifying themselves in making much of them; how +moved the elder ones, how turbulently merry the younger felt. They could +hear their own hearts beating in the breasts of the fair-haired urchins +who already laughed with ecstasy at the sight of the cakes and pastry on +the table. And their work of human creation was assembled in front of +them and within them, in the same way as the oak's huge dome spread out +above it; and all around they were likewise encompassed by the +fruitfulness of their other work, the fertility and growth of nature +which had increased even as they themselves multiplied. +</p> +<p> +Then was the true beauty which had its abode in Mathieu and Marianne made +manifest, that beauty of having loved one another for seventy years and +of still worshipping one another now even as on the first day. For +seventy years had they trod life's pathway side by side and arm in arm, +without a quarrel, without ever a deed of unfaithfulness. They could +certainly recall great sorrows, but these had always come from without. +And if they had sometimes sobbed they had consoled one another by +mingling their tears. Under their white locks they had retained the faith +of their early days, their hearts remained blended, merged one into the +other, even as on the morrow of their marriage, each having then been +freely given and never taken back. In them the power of love, the will of +action, the divine desire whose flame creates worlds, had happily met and +united. He, adoring his wife, had known no other joy than the passion of +creation, looking on the work that had to be performed and the work that +was accomplished as the sole why and wherefore of his being, his duty and +his reward. She, adoring her husband, had simply striven to be a true +companion, spouse, mother, and good counsellor, one who was endowed with +delicacy of judgment and helped to overcome all difficulties. Between +them they were reason, and health, and strength. If, too, they had always +triumphed athwart obstacles and tears, it was only by reason of their +long agreement, their common fealty amid an eternal renewal of their +love, whose armor rendered them invincible. They could not be conquered, +they had conquered by the very power of their union without designing it. +And they ended heroically, as conquerors of happiness, hand in hand, pure +as crystal is, very great, very handsome, the more so from their extreme +age, their long, long life, which one love had entirely filled. And the +sole strength of their innumerable offspring now gathered there, the +conquering tribe that had sprung from their loins, was the strength of +union inherited from them: the loyal love transmitted from ancestors to +children, the mutual affection which impelled them to help one another +and ever fight for a better life in all brotherliness. +</p> +<p> +But mirthful sounds arose, the banquet was at last being served. All the +servants of the farm had gathered to discharge this duty—they would +not allow a single person from without to help them. Nearly all had grown +up on the estate, and belonged, as it were, to the family. By and by they +would have a table for themselves, and in their turn celebrate the +diamond wedding. And it was amid exclamations and merry laughter that +they brought the first dishes. +</p> +<p> +All at once, however, the serving ceased, silence fell, an unexpected +incident attracted all attention. A young man, whom none apparently could +recognize, was stepping across the lawn, between the arms of the +horse-shoe table. He smiled gayly as he walked on, only stopping when he +was face to face with Mathieu and Marianne. Then in a loud voice he said: +"Good day, grandfather! good day, grandmother! You must have another +cover laid, for I have come to celebrate the day with you." +</p> +<p> +The onlookers remained silent, in great astonishment. Who was this young +man whom none had ever seen before? Assuredly he could not belong to the +family, for they would have known his name, have recognized his face? +Why, then, did he address the ancestors by the venerated names of +grandfather and grandmother? And the stupefaction was the greater by +reason of his extraordinary resemblance to Mathieu. Assuredly, he was a +Froment, he had the bright eyes and the lofty tower-like forehead of the +race. Mathieu lived again in him, such as he appeared in a +piously-preserved portrait representing him at the age of +seven-and-twenty when he had begun the conquest of Chantebled. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu, for his part, rose, trembling, while Marianne smiled divinely, +for she understood the truth before all the others. +</p> +<p> +"Who are you, my child?" asked Mathieu, "you, who call me grandfather, +and who resemble me as if you were my brother?" +</p> +<p> +"I am Dominique, the eldest son of your son Nicolas, who lives with my +mother, Lisbeth, in the vast free country yonder, the other France!" +</p> +<p> +"And how old are you?" +</p> +<p> +"I shall be seven-and-twenty next August, when, yonder, the waters of the +Niger, the good giant, come back to fertilize our spreading fields." +</p> +<p> +"And tell us, are you married, have you any children?" +</p> +<p> +"I have taken for my wife a French woman, born in Senegal, and in the +brick house which I have built, four children are already growing up +under the flaming sun of the Soudan." +</p> +<p> +"And tell us also, have you any brothers, any sisters?" +</p> +<p> +"My father, Nicolas, and Lisbeth, my mother, have had eighteen children, +two of whom are dead. We are sixteen, nine boys and seven girls." +</p> +<p> +At this Mathieu laughed gayly, as if to say that his son Nicolas at fifty +years of age had already proved a more valiant artisan of life than +himself. +</p> +<p> +"Well then, my boy," he said, "since you are the son of my son Nicolas, +come and embrace us to celebrate our wedding. And a cover shall be placed +for you; you are at home here." +</p> +<p> +In four strides Dominique made the round of the tables, then cast his +strong arms about the old people and embraced them—they the while +feeling faint with happy emotion, so delightful was that surprise, yet +another child falling among them, and on that day, as from some distant +sky, and telling them of the other family, the other nation which had +sprung from them, and which was swarming yonder with increase of +fruitfulness amid the fiery glow of the tropics. +</p> +<p> +That surprise was due to the sly craft of Ambroise, who merrily +explained how he had prepared it like a masterly <i>coup de +théâtre</i>. For a week past he had been lodging and hiding Dominique +in his house in Paris; the young man having been sent from the Soudan by +his father to negotiate certain business matters, and in particular to +order of Denis a quantity of special agricultural machinery adapted to +the soil of that far-away region. Thus Denis alone had been taken into +the other's confidence. +</p> +<p> +When all those seated at the table saw Dominique in the old people's +arms, and learnt the whole story, there came an extraordinary outburst of +delight; deafening acclamations arose once more; and what with their +enthusiastic greetings and embraces they almost stifled the messenger +from the sister family, that prince of the second dynasty of the Froments +which ruled in the land of the future France. +</p> +<p> +Mathieu gayly gave his orders: "There, place his cover in front of us! He +alone will be in front of us like the ambassador of some powerful empire. +Remember that, apart from his father and mother, he represents nine +brothers and seven sisters, without counting the four children that he +already has himself. There, my boy, sit down; and now let the service +continue." +</p> +<p> +The feast proved a mirthful one under the big oak tree whose shade was +spangled by the sunbeams. Delicious freshness arose from the grass, +friendly nature seemed to contribute its share of caresses. The laughter +never ceased, old folks became playful children once more in presence of +the ninety and the eighty-seven years of the bridegroom and the bride. +Faces beamed softly under white and dark and sunny hair; the whole +assembly was joyful, beautiful with a healthy rapturous beauty; the +children radiant, the youths superb, the maidens adorable, the married +folk united, side by side. And what good appetites there were! What a gay +tumult greeted the advent of each fresh dish! And how the good wine was +honored to celebrate the goodness of life which had granted the two +patriarchs the supreme grace of assembling them all at their table on +such a glorious occasion! At dessert came toasts and health-drinking and +fresh acclamations. But, amid all the chatter which flew from one to the +other end of the table, the conversation invariably reverted to the +surprise at the outset: that triumphal entry of the brotherly ambassador. +It was he, his unexpected presence, all that he had not yet said, all the +adventurous romance which he surely personated, that fanned the growing +fever, the excitement of the family, intoxicated by that open-air gala. +And as soon as the coffee was served no end of questions arose on every +side, and he had to speak out. +</p> +<p> +"Well, what can I say?" he replied, laughing, to a question put to him by +Ambroise, who wished to know what he thought of Chantebled, where he had +taken him for a stroll during the morning. "I'm afraid that if I speak in +all frankness, you won't think me very complimentary. Cultivation, no +doubt, is quite an art here, a splendid effort of will and science and +organization, as is needed to draw from this old soil such crops as it +can still produce. You toil a great deal, and you effect prodigies. But, +good heavens! how small your kingdom is! How can you live here without +hurting yourselves by ever rubbing against other people's elbows? You are +all heaped up to such a degree that you no longer have the amount of air +needful for a man's lungs. Your largest stretches of land, what you call +your big estates, are mere clods of soil where the few cattle that one +sees look to me like lost ants. But ah! the immensity of our Niger; the +immensity of the plains it waters; the immensity of our fields, whose +only limit is the distant horizon!" +</p> +<p> +Benjamin had listened, quivering. Ever since that son of the great river +had arrived, he had continued gazing at him, with passion rising in his +dreamy eyes. And on hearing him speak in this fashion he could no longer +restrain himself, but rose, went round the table, and sat down beside +him. +</p> +<p> +"The Niger—the immense plains—tell us all about them," he said. +</p> +<p> +"The Niger, the good giant, the father of us all over yonder!" responded +Dominique. "I was barely eight years old when my parents quitted Senegal, +yielding to an impulse of reckless bravery and wild hope, possessed by a +craving to plunge into the Soudan and conquer as chance might will it. +There are many days' march among rocks and scrub and rivers from St. +Louis to our present farm, far beyond Djenny. And I no longer remember +the first journey. It seems to me as if I sprang from good father Niger +himself, from the wondrous fertility of his waters. He is gentle but +immense, rolling countless waves like the sea, and so broad, so vast, +that no bridge can span him as he flows from horizon to horizon. He +carries archipelagoes on his breast, and stretches out arms covered with +herbage like pasture land. And there are the depths where flotillas of +huge fishes roam at their ease. Father Niger has his tempests, too, and +his days of fire, when his waters beget life in the burning clasp of the +sun. And he has his delightful nights, his soft and rosy nights, when +peace descends on earth from the stars.... He is the ancestor, the +founder, the fertilizer of the Western Soudan, which he has dowered with +incalculable wealth, wresting it from the invasion of neighboring +Saharas, building it up of his own fertile ooze. It is he who every year +at regular seasons floods the valley like an ocean and leaves it rich, +pregnant, as it were, with amazing vegetation. Even like the Nile, he has +vanquished the sands; he is the father of untold generations, the +creative deity of a world as yet unknown, which in later times will +enrich old Europe.... And the valley of the Niger, the good giant's +colossal daughter. Ah! what pure immensity is hers; what a flight, so to +say, into the infinite! The plain opens and expands, unbroken and +limitless. Ever and ever comes the plain, fields are succeeded by other +fields stretching out of sight, whose end a plough would only reach in +months and months. All the food needed for a great nation will be reaped +there when cultivation is practised with a little courage and a little +science, for it is still a virgin kingdom such as the good river created +it, thousands of years ago. To-morrow this kingdom will belong to the +workers who are bold enough to take it, each carving for himself a domain +as large as his strength of toil can dream of; not an estate of acres, +but leagues and leagues of ploughland wavy with eternal crops.... And +what breadth of atmosphere there is in that immensity! What delight it is +to inhale all the air of that space at one breath, and how healthy and +strong the life, for one is no longer piled one upon the other, but one +feels free and powerful, master of that part of the earth which one has +desired under the sun which shines for all." +</p> +<p> +Benjamin listened and questioned, never satisfied. "How are you installed +there?" he asked. "How do you live? What are your habits? What is your +work?" +</p> +<p> +Dominique began to laugh again, conscious as he was that he was +astonishing, upsetting all these unknown relatives who pressed so close +to him, aglow with increasing curiosity. Women and old men had in turn +left their places to draw near to him; even children had gathered around, +as if to listen to a fine story. +</p> +<p> +"Oh! we live in republican fashion," said he; "every member of our +community has to help in the common fraternal task. The family counts +more or less expert artisans of all kinds for the rough work. My father +in particular has revealed himself to be a very skilful mason, for he had +to build a place for us when we arrived. He even made his own bricks, +thanks to some deposits of clayey soil which exist near Djenny. So our +farm is now a little village: each married couple will have its own +house. Then, too, we are not only agriculturists, we are fishermen and +hunters also. We have our boats; the Niger abounds in fish to an +extraordinary degree, and there are wonderful hauls at times. And even +the shooting and hunting would suffice to feed us; game is plentiful, +there are partridges and wild guinea-fowl, not to mention the flamingoes, +the pelicans, the egrets, the thousands of creatures who do not prey on +one another. Black lions visit us at times: eagles fly slowly over our +heads; at dusk hippopotami come in parties of three and four to gambol in +the river with the clumsy grace of negro children bathing. But, after +all, we are more particularly cultivators, kings of the plain, especially +when the waters of the Niger withdraw after fertilizing our fields. Our +estate has no limits; it stretches as far as we can labor. And ah! if you +could only see the natives, who do not even plough, but have few if any +appliances beyond sticks, with which they just scratch the soil before +confiding the seed to it! There is no trouble, no worry; the earth is +rich, the sun ardent, and thus the crop will always be a fine one. When +we ourselves employ the plough, when we bestow a little care on the soil +which teems with life, what prodigious crops there are, an abundance of +grain such as your barns could never hold! As soon as we possess the +agricultural machinery, which I have come to order here in France, we +shall need flotillas of boats in order to send you the overplus of our +granaries.... When the river subsides, when its waters fall, the crop +we more particularly grow is rice; there are, indeed, plains of rice, +which occasionally yield two crops. Then come millet and ground-beans, +and by and by will come corn, when we can grow it on a large scale. Vast +cotton fields follow one after the other, and we also grow manioc and +indigo, while in our kitchen gardens we have onions and pimentoes, and +gourds and cucumbers. And I don't mention the natural vegetation, the +precious gum-trees, of which we possess quite a forest; the butter-trees, +the flour-trees, the silk-trees, which grow on our ground like briers +alongside your roads.... Finally, we are shepherds; we own +ever-increasing flocks, whose numbers we don't even know. Our goats, our +bearded sheep may be counted by the thousand; our horses scamper freely +through paddocks as large as cities, and when our hunch-backed cattle +come down to the Niger to drink at that hour of serene splendor the +sunset, they cover a league of the river banks.... And, above +everything else, we are free men and joyous men, working for the delight +of living without restraint, and our reward is the thought that our work +is very great and good and beautiful, since it is the creation of another +France, the sovereign France of to-morrow." +</p> +<p> +From that moment Dominique paused no more. There was no longer any need +to question him, he poured forth all the beauty and grandeur in his mind. +He spoke of Djenny, the ancient queen city, whose people and whose +monuments came from Egypt, the city which even yet reigns over the +valley. He spoke of four other centres, Bamakoo, Niamina, Segu, and +Sansandig, big villages which would some day be great towns. And he spoke +particularly of Timbuctoo the glorious, so long unknown, with a veil of +legends cast over it as if it were some forbidden paradise, with its +gold, its ivory, its beautiful women, all rising like a mirage of +inaccessible delight beyond the devouring sands. He spoke of Timbuctoo, +the gate of the Sahara and the Western Soudan, the frontier town where +life ended and met and mingled, whither the camel of the desert brought +the weapons and merchandise of Europe as well as salt, that indispensable +commodity, and where the pirogues of the Niger landed the precious ivory, +the surface gold, the ostrich feathers, the gum, the crops, all the +wealth of the fruitful valley. He spoke of Timbuctoo the store-place, the +metropolis and market of Central Africa, with its piles of ivory, its +piles of virgin gold, its sacks of rice, millet, and ground-nuts, its +cakes of indigo, its tufts of ostrich plumes, its metals, its dates, its +stuffs, its iron-ware, and particularly its slabs of rock salt, brought +on the backs of beasts of burden from Taudeni, the frightful Saharian +city of salt, whose soil is salt for leagues around, an infernal mine of +that salt which is so precious in the Soudan that it serves as a medium +of exchange, as money more precious even than gold. And finally, he spoke +of Timbuctoo impoverished, fallen from its high estate, the opulent and +resplendent city of former times now almost in ruins, hiding remnants of +its treasures behind cracked walls in fear of the robbers of the desert; +but withal apt to become once more a city of glory and fortune, royally +seated as it is between the Soudan, that granary of abundance, and the +Sahara, the road to Europe, as soon as France shall have opened that +road, have connected the provinces of her new empire, and have founded +that huge new France of which the ancient fatherland will be but the +directing mind. +</p> +<p> +"That is the dream!" cried Dominique, "that is the gigantic work which +the future will achieve! Algeria, connected with Timbuctoo by the Sahara +railway line, over which electric engines will carry the whole of old +Europe through the far expanse of sand! Timbuctoo connected with Senegal +by flotillas of steam vessels and yet other railways, all intersecting +the vast empire on every side! New France connected with mother France, +the old land, by a wondrous development of the means of communication, +and founded, and got ready for the hundred millions of inhabitants who +will some day spring up there!... Doubtless these things cannot be +done in a night. The trans-Saharian railway is not yet laid down; there +are two thousand five hundred <i>kilomètres</i><a name="FNanchor_10_1" id="FNanchor_10_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_1" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> of bare desert to be crossed +which can hardly tempt railway companies; and a certain amount of +prosperity must be developed by starting cultivation, seeking and working +mines, and increasing exportations before a pecuniary effort can be +possible on the part of the motherland. Moreover, there is the question +of the natives, mostly of gentle race, though some are ferocious bandits, +whose savagery is increased by religious fanaticism, thus rendering the +difficulties of our conquest all the greater. Until the terrible problem +of Islamism is solved we shall always be coming in conflict with it. And +only life, long years of life, can create a new nation, adapt it to the +new land, blend diverse elements together, and yield normal existence, +homogeneous strength, and genius proper to the clime. But no matter! From +this day a new France is born yonder, a huge empire; and it needs our +blood—and some must be given it, in order that it may be peopled and +be able to draw its incalculable wealth from the soil, and become the +greatest, the strongest, and the mightiest in the world!" +</p> + +<div class="footnote"> + +<p class="nind"><a name="Footnote_10_1" id="Footnote_10_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_1"><span class="label">[10]</span></a>About 1,553 English miles.</p></div> + +<p> +Transported with enthusiasm, quivering at the thought of the distant +ideal at last revealed to him, Benjamin sat there with tears in his eyes. +Ah! the healthy life! the noble life! the other life! the whole mission +and work of which he had as yet but confusedly dreamt! Again he asked a +question: "And are there many French families there, colonizing like +yours?" +</p> +<p> +Dominique burst into a loud laugh. "Oh, no," said he, "there are +certainly a few colonists in our old possessions of Senegal, but yonder +in the Niger valley, beyond Djenny, there are, I think, only ourselves. +We are the pioneers, the vanguard, the riskers full of faith and hope. +And there is some merit in it, for to sensible stay-at-home folks it all +seems like defying common sense. Can you picture it? A French family +installed among savages, and unprotected, save for the vicinity of a little +fort, where a French officer commands a dozen native soldiers—a +French family, which is sometimes called upon to fight in person, and +which establishes a farm in a land where the fanaticism of some head +tribesman may any day stir up trouble. It seems so insane that folks get +angry at the mere thought of it, yet it enraptures us and gives us gayety +and health, and the courage to achieve victory. We are opening the road, +we are giving the example, we are carrying our dear old France yonder, +taking to ourselves a huge expanse of virgin land, which will become a +province. We have already founded a village which in a hundred years will +be a great town. In the colonies no race is more fruitful than the +French, though it seems to become barren on its own ancient soil. Thus we +shall swarm and swarm, and fill the world! So come then, come then, all +of you; since here you are set too closely, since you lack air in your +little fields and your overheated, pestilence-breeding towns. There is +room for everybody yonder; there are new lands, there is open air that +none has breathed, and there is a task to be accomplished which will make +all of you heroes, strong, sturdy men, well pleased to live! Come with +me. I will take the men, I will take all the women who are willing, and +you will carve for yourselves other provinces and found other cities for +the future glory and power of the great new France." +</p> +<p> +He laughed so gayly, he was so handsome, so spirited, so robust, that +once again the whole table acclaimed him. They would certainly not follow +him yonder, for all those married couples already had their own nests; +and all those young folks were already too strongly rooted to the old +land by the ties of their race—a race which after displaying such +adventurous instincts has now fallen asleep, as it were, at its own +fireside. But what a marvellous story it all was—a story to which big +and little alike, had listened in rapture, and which to-morrow would, +doubtless, arouse within them a passion for glorious enterprise far away! +The seed of the unknown was sown, and would grow into a crop of fabulous +magnitude. +</p> +<p> +For the moment Benjamin was the only one who cried amid the enthusiasm +which drowned his words: "Yes, yes, I want to live. Take me, take me with +you!" +</p> +<p> +But Dominique resumed, by way of conclusion: "And there is one thing, +grandfather, which I have not yet told you. My father has given the name +of Chantebled to our farm yonder. He often tells us how you founded your +estate here, in an impulse of far-seeing audacity, although everybody +jeered and shrugged their shoulders and declared that you must be mad. +And, yonder, my father has to put up with the same derision, the same +contemptuous pity, for people declare that the good Niger will some day +sweep away our village, even if a band of prowling natives does not kill +and eat us! But I'm easy in mind about all that, we shall conquer as you +conquered, for what seems to be the folly of action is really divine +wisdom. There will be another kingdom of the Froments yonder, another +huge Chantebled, of which you and my grandmother will be the ancestors, +the distant patriarchs, worshipped like deities.... And I drink to +your health, grandfather, and I drink to yours, grandmother, on behalf of +your other future people, who will grow up full of spirit under the +burning sun of the tropics!" +</p> +<p> +Then with great emotion Mathieu, who had risen, replied in a powerful +voice: "To your health! my boy. To the health of my son Nicolas, his +wife, Lisbeth, and all who have been born from them! And to the health of +all who will follow, from generation to generation!" +</p> +<p> +And Marianne, who had likewise risen, in her turn said: "To the health of +your wives, and your daughters, your spouses and your mothers! To the +health of those who will love and produce the greatest sum of life, in +order that the greatest possible sum of happiness may follow!" +</p> +<p> +Then, the banquet ended, they quitted the table and spread freely over +the lawn. There was a last ovation around Mathieu and Marianne, who were +encompassed by their eager offspring. At one and the same time a score of +arms were outstretched, carrying children, whose fair or dark heads they +were asked to kiss. Aged as they were, returning to a divine state of +childhood, they did not always recognize those little lads and lasses. +They made mistakes, used wrong names, fancied that one child was another. +Laughter thereupon arose, the mistakes were rectified, and appeals were +made to the old people's memory. They likewise laughed, the errors were +amusing, but it mattered little if they no longer remembered a name, the +child at any rate belonged to the harvest that had sprung from them. +</p> +<p> +Then there were certain granddaughters and great-granddaughters whom they +themselves summoned and kissed by way of bringing good luck to the babes +that were expected, the children of their children's children, the race +which would ever spread and perpetuate them through the far-off ages. And +there were mothers, also, who were nursing, mothers whose little ones, +after sleeping quietly during the feast, had now awakened, shrieking +their hunger aloud. These had to be fed, and the mothers merrily seated +themselves together under the trees and gave them the breast in all +serenity. Therein lay the royal beauty of woman, wife and mother; +fruitful maternity triumphed over virginity by which life is slain. Ah! +might manners and customs change, might the idea of morality and the idea +of beauty be altered, and the world recast, based on the triumphant +beauty of the mother suckling her babe in all the majesty of her +symbolism! From fresh sowings there ever came fresh harvests, the sun +ever rose anew above the horizon, and milk streamed forth endlessly like +the eternal sap of living humanity. And that river of milk carried life +through the veins of the world, and expanded and overflowed for the +centuries of the future. +</p> +<p> +The greatest possible sum of life in order that the greatest possible +happiness might result: that was the act of faith in life, the act of +hope in the justice and goodness of life's work. Victorious fruitfulness +remained the one true force, the sovereign power which alone moulded the +future. She was the great revolutionary, the incessant artisan of +progress, the mother of every civilization, ever re-creating her army of +innumerable fighters, throwing through the centuries millions after +millions of poor and hungry and rebellious beings into the fight for +truth and justice. Not a single forward step in history has ever been +taken without numerousness having urged humanity forward. To-morrow, like +yesterday, will be won by the swarming of the multitude whose quest is +happiness. And to-morrow will give the benefits which our age has +awaited; economic equality obtained even as political equality has been +obtained; a just apportionment of wealth rendered easy; and compulsory +work re-established as the one glorious and essential need. +</p> +<p> +It is not true that labor has been imposed on mankind as punishment for +sin, it is on the contrary an honor, a mark of nobility, the most +precious of boons, the joy, the health, the strength, the very soul of +the world, which itself labors incessantly, ever creating the future. And +misery, the great, abominable social crime, will disappear amid the +glorification of labor, the distribution of the universal task among one +and all, each accepting his legitimate share of duties and rights. And +may children come, they will simply be instruments of wealth, they will +but increase the human capital, the free happiness of a life in which the +children of some will no longer be beasts of burden, or food for +slaughter or for vice, to serve the egotism of the children of others. +And life will then again prove the conqueror; there will come the +renascence of life, honored and worshipped, the religion of life so long +crushed beneath the hateful nightmare of Roman Catholicism, from which on +divers occasions the nations have sought to free themselves by violence, +and which they will drive away at last on the now near day when cult and +power, and sovereign beauty shall be vested in the fruitful earth and the +fruitful spouse. +</p> +<p> +In that last resplendent hour of eventide, Mathieu and Marianne reigned +by virtue of their numerous race. They ended as heroes of life, because +of the great creative work which they had accomplished amid battle and +toil and grief. Often had they sobbed, but with extreme old age had come +peace, deep smiling peace, made up of the good labor performed and the +certainty of approaching rest while their children and their children's +children resumed the fight, labored and suffered, lived in their own +turn. And a part of Mathieu and Marianne's heroic grandeur sprang from +the divine desire with which they had glowed, the desire which moulds and +regulates the world. They were like a sacred temple in which the god had +fixed his abode, they were animated by the inextinguishable fire with +which the universe ever burns for the work of continual creation. Their +radiant beauty under their white hair came from the light which yet +filled their eyes, the light of love's power, which age had been unable +to extinguish. Doubtless, as they themselves jestingly remarked at times, +they had been prodigals, their family had been such a large one. But, +after all, had they not been right? Their children had diminished no +other's share, each had come with his or her own means of subsistence. +And, besides, 'tis good to garner in excess when the granaries of a +country are empty. Many such improvidents are needed to combat the +egotism of others at times of great dearth. Amid all the frightful loss +and wastage, the race is strengthened, the country is made afresh, a good +civic example is given by such healthy prodigality as Mathieu and +Marianne had shown. +</p> +<p> +But a last act of heroism was required of them. A month after the +festival, when Dominique was on the point of returning to the Soudan, +Benjamin one evening told them of his passion, of the irresistible +summons from the unknown distant plains, which he could but obey. +</p> +<p> +"Dear father, darling mother, let me go with Dominique! I have struggled, +I feel horrified with myself at quitting you thus, at your great age. But +I suffer too dreadfully; my soul is full of yearnings, and seems ready to +burst; and I shall die of shameful sloth, if I do not go." +</p> +<p> +They listened with breaking hearts. Their son's words did not surprise +them; they had heard them coming ever since their diamond wedding. And +they trembled, and felt that they could not refuse; for they knew that +they were guilty in having kept their last-born in the family nest after +surrendering to life all the others. Ah! how insatiable life was—it +would not so much as suffer that tardy avarice of theirs; it demanded +even the precious, discreetly hidden treasure from which, with jealous +egotism, they had dreamt of parting only when they might find themselves +upon the threshold of the grave. +</p> +<p> +Deep silence reigned; but at last Mathieu slowly answered: "I cannot keep +you back, my son; go whither life calls you.... If I knew, however, +that I should die to-night, I would ask you to wait till to-morrow." +</p> +<p> +In her turn Marianne gently said: "Why cannot we die at once? We should +then escape this last great pang, and you would only carry our memory +away with you." +</p> +<p> +Once again did the cemetery of Janville appear, the field of peace, where +dear ones already slept, and where they would soon join them. No sadness +tinged that thought, however; they hoped that they would lie down there +together on the same day, for they could not imagine life, one without +the other. And, besides, would they not forever live in their children; +forever be united, immortal, in their race? +</p> +<p> +"Dear father, darling mother," Benjamin repeated; "it is I who will be +dead to-morrow if I do not go. To wait for your death—good God! would +not that be to desire it? You must still live long years, and I wish to +live like you." +</p> +<p> +There came another pause, then Mathieu and Marianne replied together: "Go +then, my boy. You are right, one must live." +</p> +<p> +But on the day of farewell, what a wrench, what a final pang there was +when they had to tear themselves from that flesh of their flesh, all that +remained to them, in order to hand over to life the supreme gift it +demanded! The departure of Nicolas seemed to begin afresh; again came the +"never more" of the migratory child taking wing, given to the passing +wind for the sowing of unknown distant lands, far beyond the frontiers. +</p> +<p> +"Never more!" cried Mathieu in tears. +</p> +<p> +And Marianne repeated in a great sob which rose from the very depths of +her being: "Never more! Never more!" +</p> +<p> +There was now no longer any mere question of increasing a family, of +building up the country afresh, of re-peopling France for the struggles +of the future, the question was one of the expansion of humanity, of the +reclaiming of deserts, of the peopling of the entire earth. After one's +country came the earth; after one's family, one's nation, and then +mankind. And what an invading flight, what a sudden outlook upon the +world's immensity! All the freshness of the oceans, all the perfumes of +virgin continents, blended in a mighty gust like a breeze from the +offing. Scarcely fifteen hundred million souls are to-day scattered +through the few cultivated patches of the globe, and is that not indeed +paltry, when the globe, ploughed from end to end, might nourish ten times +that number? What narrowness of mind there is in seeking to limit mankind +to its present figure, in admitting simply the continuance of exchanges +among nations, and of capitals dying where they stand—as Babylon, +Nineveh, and Memphis died—while other queens of the earth arise, +inherit, and flourish amid fresh forms of civilization, and this without +population ever more increasing! Such a theory is deadly, for nothing +remains stationary: whatever ceases to increase decreases and disappears. +Life is the rising tide whose waves daily continue the work of creation, +and perfect the work of awaited happiness, which shall come when the +times are accomplished. The flux and reflux of nations are but periods of +the forward march: the great centuries of light, which dark ages at times +replace, simply mark the phases of that march. Another step forward is +ever taken, a little more of the earth is conquered, a little more life +is brought into play. The law seems to lie in a double phenomenon; +fruitfulness creating civilization, and civilization restraining +fruitfulness. And equilibrium will come from it all on the day when the +earth, being entirely inhabited, cleared, and utilized, shall at last +have accomplished its destiny. And the divine dream, the generous utopian +thought soars into the heavens; families blended into nations, nations +blended into mankind, one sole brotherly people making of the world one +sole city of peace and truth and justice! Ah! may eternal fruitfulness +ever expand, may the seed of humanity be carried over the frontiers, +peopling the untilled deserts afar, and increasing mankind through the +coming centuries until dawns the reign of sovereign life, mistress at +last both of time and of space! +</p> +<p> +And after the departure of Benjamin, whom Dominique took with him, +Mathieu and Marianne recovered the joyful serenity and peace born of the +work which they had so prodigally accomplished. Nothing more was theirs; +nothing save the happiness of having given all to life. The "Never more" +of separation became the "Still more" of life—life incessantly +increasing, expanding beyond the limitless horizon. Candid and smiling, +those all but centenarian heroes triumphed in the overflowing florescence +of their race. The milk had streamed even athwart the seas—from the +old land of France to the immensity of virgin Africa, the young and giant +France of to-morrow. After the foundation of Chantebled, on a disdained, +neglected spot of the national patrimony, another Chantebled was rising +and becoming a kingdom in the vast deserted tracts which life yet had to +fertilize. And this was the exodus, human expansion throughout the world, +mankind upon the march towards the Infinite. +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p style="margin-left: 5%;"> +<i>England.</i>—<i>August 1898</i>—<i>May 1899.</i> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10330 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> |