Kabanata Kabanata 23 · PART IV. CHAPTER V.

. PART IV. CHAPTER V.

The months glided along; winter passed away, and then the spring. At

Rognes matters went on in the same old way; whole years were necessary

for the accomplishment of any really perceptible change in that weary,

dull life of work and toil, which began afresh with every returning

day. In July, amid the burning heat of the blazing sun, the approaching

elections threw the village into a state of excitement. This time they

were invested with a peculiar interest, and the canvassing visits of

the candidates were eagerly discussed and anxiously awaited.

On the morning of the Sunday for which the arrival of Monsieur

Rochefontaine, the contractor of Châteaudun, had been promised, there

was a terrible scene at the Buteaus' between Lise and Françoise,

showing that hostility can go on smouldering invisibly beneath an

outward appearance of calmness till it breaks out with unquenchable

violence. The last slender bond of union between the sisters, which

had always been strained almost to breaking, though constantly

knotted again, had at last become so slight, worn away by perpetual

quarrelling, that this time it snapped atwain, beyond all hope of

repair. And the immediate cause of this final rupture was the merest

trifle in the world.

As Françoise was bringing her cows home that morning she stopped to

have a moment's chat with Jean, whom she met in front of the church. It

must be confessed that she did so purposely, stopping just in front of

the Buteaus' house, with the express intention of irritating them.

"When you want to see your men," Lise cried angrily to her as she

returned into the house, "be good enough to choose some other place

than just under our windows!"

Buteau was standing by mending a bill-hook and listening.

"My men!" retorted Françoise. "I see too many men here. And there's one

fellow, let me tell you, whom I could see if I wanted, not under the

window, but in this very house, the swine that he is!"

This allusion to Buteau made Lise wild with anger. For a long time past

she had been consumed with an absorbing desire to turn her sister out

of doors, so that the house might become peaceful; and this even at the

risk of a law-suit, and having to surrender half the land. It was her

persistence in this respect that led her husband to beat her, for he

was quite opposed to her scheme, hoping to trick the girl out of her

land somehow, and also to succeed in getting possession of her person.

The wife was exasperated at no longer being mistress in her own house,

and showed a peculiar kind of jealousy. While she was quite ready to

let her husband forcibly possess himself of the girl for the sake of

making an end of the matter, yet, at the same time, it enraged her to

see him lusting so hotly after this chit, whom she hated for her youth,

her firm-fleshed bosom, and the roundness of her arms, that showed so

plumply whenever her sleeves were rolled up. She would have liked to

stand by and see her husband foul and wreck all these alluring charms,

and she would gladly have helped him. Indeed, the mere fact of sharing

her husband with her sister would not have caused her any trouble.

Her anguish of mind arose from their rivalry, which was growing even

more bitter and rancorous, and the consciousness that her sister was

prettier than herself, and thus capable of stimulating her husband's

hot desires.

"You drab!" she screamed, "it is you who lead him on! If you weren't

always leering at him he wouldn't be for ever running after you. You

nasty slut!"

Françoise turned quite pale. This slander was more than she could bear.

And quietly, but with deliberate animosity, she replied:

"We've had quite enough of this. It is time there was an end of it.

Wait another fortnight, and I'll no longer annoy you with my presence.

Yes, in another fortnight I shall be twenty-one, and then I'll take

myself off."

"Ah, you're longing to be of age, are you, so that you can worry us,

eh? Well, you hussy, there's no fortnight about the matter; off you go

this very moment."

"Very well, I'm quite agreeable. Macqueron wants a girl, and I'm sure

he'll take me. Good day."

Thereupon Françoise went off without another word. Buteau then threw

down the bill-hook which he had been sharpening, and rushed forward in

the hope of restoring peace between the two women by the administration

of a couple of whacking cuffs. But he was too late, and he could only

vent his angry exasperation by dealing a blow at his wife, from whose

nose the blood began to stream. The devil take all the women! What he

had feared and struggled against so long had come to pass. The girl had

taken flight, and now there was a heap of dirty troubles in store for

him. He saw in his mind's eye both the girl and the land scampering

away from him.

"I'll go to Macqueron's this afternoon," he roared. "She'll have to

come back, even if I have to kick her here all the way."

Macqueron's house was in a state of great excitement that Sunday,

for one of the candidates, Monsieur Rochefontaine, the proprietor of

the building works at Châteaudun, was expected there. Since the last

election Monsieur de Chédeville had fallen into disfavour on account,

some people said, of his ostentatious friendship with certain members

of the Orleanist party; while others asserted that it was owing to his

having offended the Tuileries by a scandalous intrigue with the wife of

one of the ushers of the Chamber of Deputies, who was quite infatuated

about him, despite his age. However this might be, the patronage of

the prefect had certainly been withdrawn from the retiring deputy and

conferred upon Monsieur Rochefontaine, the former candidate of the

Opposition, whose establishment had just been visited by one of the

ministers. Monsieur Rochefontaine had also written a pamphlet on Free

Trade, which had been very favourably noticed by the Emperor. As for

Monsieur de Chédeville, annoyed at being discarded in this way, he

persisted in his candidature, being particularly desirous of retaining

his position as deputy, since it enabled him to dabble in financial

jobbery. The rental of La Chamade was no longer sufficient for his

needs, the place being mortgaged, and in a half-ruined condition. Thus,

by a singular chance, the situation of affairs had been reversed--the

landowner had become the independent candidate, while the contractor

enjoyed the patronage of the Government.

Although Hourdequin was mayor of Rognes he still remained faithful to

Monsieur de Chédeville, and had made up his mind not only to ignore any

instructions he might receive from official sources, but even to work

openly for his candidate's cause, should that be necessary. At first he

felt that it was not a manly or honourable thing to veer round like a

weather-cock at the slightest breath from the prefect's lips; and then,

as this was a struggle between a Protectionist and a Free-trader, he

became convinced that, in the present crisis of agricultural affairs,

his interests would be better forwarded by the former. The annoyance

which Jacqueline caused him, added to the cares and anxieties of his

farm, had prevented him for some time past from devoting himself

to the duties of his mayoralty. Being always engaged in watching

the lascivious wench who, with the luck that so often attaches to

wrongdoing, managed to satisfy with impunity her lustful hankering

after Iron's brawny manhood, the mayor left his assessor, Macqueron,

to attend to current affairs. Consequently, when he again returned to

preside over the council, instigated thereto by the personal interest

he took in the election, he was astonished to find it rebellious, in

fact stiffly hostile.

This was the outcome of Macqueron's underhand intriguing, which,

prosecuted with all a copper-skin's craft and wiliness, was at last

approaching an issue. Ambition had come to this enriched peasant, who

had relapsed into a state of complete idleness, and who dragged himself

about dirty and slovenly amid all his gentlemanly leisure, which really

bored him to death. And this ambition now formed the one pleasure of

his existence. Why should not he himself be mayor? Since that idea had

first dawned upon his mind, he had striven to undermine Hourdequin's

position, working upon the ingrained, deep-rooted, though perhaps

unconscious hatred that all the natives of Rognes in former times had

entertained for their lords, and that they now felt for the son of the

townsman who to-day possessed the land. Of course he had got it for

nothing! It had been nothing more nor less than a robbery at the time

of the Revolution. Poor peasants never had such luck. It was only your

scamps and scoundrels who managed to fill their pockets in this way.

And there were pretty goings-on, too, at La Borderie with the master's

infatuation for that hussy La Cognette, in spite of her amours with all

the farm-hands.

Talk of this kind was now freely indulged in in the neighbourhood,

arousing indignation even among those who would not have hesitated to

sell their own daughters to prostitution, or even to commit incest with

them themselves, if they had seen their way to profit by so doing. The

members of the municipal council said at last that a townsman ought to

exercise his thievish and wanton propensities amongst his fellows, and

that a peasant-community ought to have a peasant-mayor.

It was in a matter concerning the election that Hourdequin, to his

great surprise, first became aware of the council's hostility towards

himself. When he began to speak of Monsieur de Chédeville, all the

councillors sat as expressionless as so many wooden images. Macqueron,

seeing that the mayor meant to keep faithful to the old deputy, had

realised that this would be the best question on which he could fight

the battle, and it seemed to him to afford an excellent chance of

overthrowing his opponent. Overflowing with zeal, he had set himself

on the prefect's side in favour of Monsieur Rochefontaine; loudly

asserting that he was doing his duty as became a loyal assessor, and

that all honest folks were bound to support the Government. This

profession of faith was quite sufficient, and he was under no necessity

of indoctrinating the members of the council, for in their fear of

the broom they were always on the side of the broom-stick, resolved

upon supporting the established powers, so that things might remain

unaltered and the price of corn be kept high. These were the views of

Delhomme, who had such a reputation for justice and integrity, and

he won Clou and others over to his side. It was their duty, he said,

to support the Emperor's nominee, for the Emperor knew what he was

about and studied the country's interests. The fact that Lengaigne,

exasperated to find Macqueron invested with such importance, was

Hourdequin's only supporter, ended by fully compromising the mayor.

Calumnies soon began to be bandied about, and the farmer was accused

of being a "Red," and of holding the same views as the blackguards

who wanted a republic, in the hope of exterminating the peasantry. So

persistently, indeed, were these reports circulated, that the Abbé

Madeline took alarm, and, believing that he owed his cure to the

assessor, listened to his talk and worked for Monsieur Rochefontaine,

although the bishop himself still supported Monsieur de Chédeville.

A final blow now destroyed every remaining vestige of the mayor's

influence. It was reported that, when the famous direct road between

Rognes and Châteaudun was opened, Hourdequin had put half of the

subvention voted for the highway into his own pocket. How he had been

able to do such a thing no one could explain; but this only made the

matter more mysterious and abominable. When Macqueron was questioned on

the subject, he assumed an air of confusion and reserve, like a man who

is compelled to keep silent out of a regard for certain proprieties.

The truth was that he himself had set the story afloat, in the hope

of making his own action in the matter--the gratuitous offer of his

land, followed by its sale for three times its value--appear in a

more favourable light. The whole village was upset, and the municipal

council became divided into two parties, one comprising the assessor

and all the councillors excepting Lengaigne, while the other was

composed of Lengaigne with the mayor, who at this juncture grasped the

gravity of the situation for the first time.

A fortnight previously Macqueron had expressly journeyed to Châteaudun

for the purpose of prostrating himself before Monsieur Rochefontaine.

He had besought him to stay at no other house but his own, if he should

condescend to visit Rognes. And this was the reason why the innkeeper,

that particular Sunday morning, incessantly went out on to the road

on the look-out for the arrival of the candidate. He had forewarned

Delhomme, and Clou, and a few other members of the municipal council,

and they were emptying a bottle of wine to get the time over. Old

Fouan and Bécu were also of the party, playing cards, as well as the

schoolmaster, Lequeu, who pretended that he never took anything to

drink, and who was deep in the perusal of a newspaper he had brought

with him. The assessor was annoyed, however, by the presence of a

couple of other customers, Hyacinthe and his friend Canon, the vagabond

working-man, who were sitting there opposite to each other gossipping

over a bottle of brandy. Macqueron kept casting furtive glances at

them, seeking for some excuse to turn them out, but in vain, for the

scamps, contrary to their usual wont, were not shouting. They simply

seemed to be deriding every one else. Three o'clock struck, and

Monsieur Rochefontaine, who had promised to come at about two, had not

yet arrived.

"Cœlina!" suddenly cried Macqueron to his wife, "did you bring up the

Bordeaux, as I told you just now?"

Cœlina, who was looking after the customers, expressed by a gesture

her sorrow for her forgetfulness, whereupon her husband himself rushed

off to the cellar. In the next room, where the haberdashery business

was carried on, and the door of which was always kept open, Berthe was

playing the fine lady, and showing some pink ribbons to three peasant

girls; while Françoise, who had already settled down to her new duties,

was dusting the drawers with a feather broom, despite the fact that it

was Sunday. The assessor, glad of any opportunity that ministered to

his craving for authority, had at once taken the girl into his house,

flattered by the fact of her seeking his protection. His wife happened

to be in want of an assistant, and he undertook to board and lodge

Françoise until he could bring about a reconciliation between her and

the Buteaus. The girl swore that she would kill herself if she were

taken back to their house by force.

A landau, drawn by two superb Percheron horses, now suddenly halted

before the door, and Monsieur Rochefontaine, who was its only occupant,

alighted, surprised and hurt that there was no one to receive him. He

was hesitating about entering the tavern when Macqueron came up from

the cellar, holding a bottle in each hand. The sight of the candidate

overwhelmed him with confusion and despair. He was at a loss how to get

rid of his bottles, and he stammered out:

"Oh, sir, how very unfortunate! I have been waiting for you for two

hours without stirring, and then directly I go down into the cellar for

a moment you arrive! And it was altogether on your account that I went,

too! Will you have a glass of wine, Mr. Deputy?"

Monsieur Rochefontaine, who was as yet only a candidate, and who ought

to have been touched by the poor devil's evident trouble, now seemed

only the more put out. He was a tall fellow, barely twenty-eight

years of age, with closely-cropped hair and squarely-cut beard, and

carefully, though not elegantly dressed. His manner was cold and

abrupt; he spoke in a curt, imperious style, and everything about

him told of one who was accustomed to command, and of the state of

obedience in which he kept the twelve hundred workmen employed in his

works. He seemed determined to drive these peasants along as with a

whip.

Cœlina and Berthe had darted forward, the latter's bright eyes

glistening boldly beneath their reddened lids.

"Please do us the honour of coming in, sir," she said.

The candidate, however, surveying her with a quick glance, had at once

estimated her at her worth. Still he entered the house, but refused to

sit down, remaining standing.

"Here are some of our friends of the council," said Macqueron, who was

beginning to recover his equanimity. "They are delighted to make your

acquaintance, I'm sure. Are you not, gentlemen?"

Delhomme, Clou, and the others had risen from their seats,

thunderstruck by Monsieur Rochefontaine's stiff demeanour. Their

feeling of deference became one of the deepest respect, that awe and

cringing humility which every manifestation of superior power and

authority awoke in them. In the profoundest silence they listened to

what the deputy had decided to tell them; the theories which he held in

common with the Emperor, and more especially his ideas about national

progress, to which he owed the Government's favour, in preference

to the former deputy, whose opinions were condemned. Then he began

to promise them new roads, railways, and canals; yes, a canal which

would traverse La Beauce, and at last slake the thirst which had

been parching it up for centuries. The peasants listened to him in

stupefaction. What was he talking about? Water through their fields! He

went on for some time longer, and then concluded by threatening those

who voted wrongly with the severity of the Government and bad seasons.

His listeners looked at one another. Here, indeed, was a man who could

make them tremble, and whom it would be well to have for a friend.

"Of course, of course!" Macqueron kept repeating after each of the

candidate's sentences, though, at the same time, he felt a little

uneasy at his stern manner.

Bécu, however, wagged his chin energetically in approval of this

military kind of speech; and old Fouan, with his eyes wide open, seemed

to be declaring that here, indeed, was a man! Lequeu, who usually

preserved such an impassible demeanour, had grown very red, though it

was impossible to guess whether he felt pleased or angered. It was only

different with those two scamps, Hyacinthe and his friend Canon, whose

faces plainly expressed contempt, and who felt so vastly superior to

their neighbours that they sniggered and shrugged their shoulders.

As soon as Monsieur Rochefontaine had finished speaking, he turned

towards the door. The assessor was overwhelmed with despair.

"What, sir, won't you do us the honour of taking a glass of wine?" he

cried.

"No, thank you; I am already very late. They are expecting me at

Magnolles, at Bazoches, and at a score of other places. Good day!"

Then he was gone. Berthe made no attempt to accompany him to the door.

In fact, on returning into the haberdashery shop, she exclaimed to

Françoise:

"What an impolite fellow. If I were a man I'd vote for the other one!"

Monsieur Rochefontaine had just got into his landau again, when the

cracking of a whip caused him to look round. It was Hourdequin coming

up in his modest gig, driven by Jean. The farmer had only heard by

chance of the candidate's visit to Rognes, one of his waggoners having

met the landau on the road; and he had immediately hastened off to meet

the foe face to face, feeling all the more uneasy as for the last week

he had been vainly trying to persuade Monsieur de Chédeville to put in

an appearance. The old beau was doubtless tied-fast to some woman's

apron-strings, probably those of the pretty wife of the usher of the

Chamber.

"Ah, so it's you?" the farmer cried cheerily to Monsieur Rochefontaine.

"I didn't know that you had already commenced your campaign."

The two vehicles were drawn up alongside of each other. Neither of

the two men got down, but, after bending forward and shaking hands,

they settled themselves in their seats, and in this position conversed

together for a few minutes. They were acquainted with each other,

having occasionally met at breakfast at the house of the mayor of

Châteaudun.

"You are opposing me, then?" suddenly asked Monsieur Rochefontaine, in

his curt way.

Hourdequin, who, from his position as mayor, did not care to display

his opposition to the Government candidate too openly, lost countenance

for a moment, seeing that Monsieur Rochefontaine was so well informed.

However, he was by no means deficient in sturdy courage, and he replied

in a light and pleasant tone, so as to give a friendly appearance to

his explanation:

"Oh, I don't oppose any one. I look after myself; and the man who will

protect me is the man for me. Here's corn fallen to forty-six francs

the quarter, just what it costs me to produce it. One may just as well

starve without giving one's-self the trouble to work!"

The other at once burst out excitedly:

"Oh, I understand; it's Protection you want, isn't it? A tax, a

prohibitive duty on foreign wheat, so that French corn may go up

to double its present price. Then you'd have France in a state of

starvation, the four pound loaf at a franc, and all the poor folks

dying from hunger! How dare you, a man of progress, advocate such a

monstrous state of affairs?"

"A man of progress, a man of progress," repeated Hourdequin in his

cheery, pleasant fashion. "Yes, certainly, I'm a man of progress, but I

have to pay so dearly for progress that I soon shan't be able to afford

myself the luxury any longer. Machinery, chemical manures, and all the

other new contrivances are all very fine things in their way, I've no

doubt, and it's very easy to argue in their favour, but there's just

this fault about them, that, in spite of all the logic in the world,

they are bringing us to ruin."

"Because you are too impatient, and because you expect science to give

you immediate and complete results, and because you grow so discouraged

by the necessary preliminary experiments that you even doubt what

has been formally proved, and finally fall back into a condition of

denying everything."

"Possibly that may be so. I may have only been making experiments.

Well, suppose the Government decorates me for what I have already done,

and lets some other folks continue the course!"

Hourdequin burst out into a hearty laugh at his own jocoseness, which

he seemed to think quite conclusive.

"You wish the working-man to die of hunger, then?" Monsieur

Rochefontaine sharply continued.

"Excuse me, I wish the peasant to be able to live."

"But I, who employ twelve hundred hands, can't raise their wages

without becoming bankrupt. If corn rose to ninety francs, my workmen

would die off like so many flies."

"Well, do you suppose that I don't employ men? With corn at forty-six

francs we have to go with empty stomachs, and poor fellows are lying

starving at the bottom of every ditch all over the country-side." Then

he added, laughingly:

"Well, every one argues from his own point of view. If I sell you bread

at a low price, it is the soil of France that goes into bankruptcy; and

if I sell you it at a high price, I can understand very well that the

cost of workmanship will go up, and the price of manufactured goods

increase, such as my clothes, tools, and the hundred other things that

I require. Ah, it's a pretty mess, and we shall end some day by ruining

each other all round!"

The two men, the farmer and the manufacturer, the Protectionist

and the Free-trader, looked in each other's faces, the one with a

sly good-humoured smile, the other with an unflinchingly hostile

expression. They furnished a complete example of the modern war of

economics, each taking his stand on the struggle for existence.

"The peasant will certainly be compelled to supply the workman with

food," said Monsieur Rochefontaine at last.

"To be able to do that," retorted Hourdequin, "he himself must first

have something to eat."

Then he sprang down from his gig, and Monsieur Rochefontaine flung

the name of some village to his coachman. Macqueron, annoyed that

his friends of the council, standing at the door, had heard this

conversation, now again proposed that they should all have a glass

together, but the candidate once more refused, and without shaking

hands with any one, threw himself back in his landau, while the two

tall Percheron horses started off at a rattling trot.

Lengaigne, standing at his door on the other side of the road, where he

had been setting a razor, had witnessed the whole scene. He now broke

into a peal of jeering laughter, and, after a filthy expression, cried

out to his neighbour:

"So you had all your trouble for nothing?"

Hourdequin, however, had gone into the tavern, and had accepted a

glass of wine; and as soon as Jean had secured the horse to one of the

shutters, he followed his master. Françoise quietly beckoned to him to

come into the haberdashery shop, and then told him of her departure,

and of all that had led to it. The young man was so affected by the

girl's story, and so afraid of doing something before the company that

might compromise her, that he at once returned into the tavern and sat

down on a form, after simply saying that they must see each other again

to come to some understanding.

"Well, confound it all," cried Hourdequin, putting down his glass, "you

must have pretty stiff digestions if you vote for that youngster!"

His conversation with Monsieur Rochefontaine had decided him to oppose

him openly at all risks. He spared him no longer, but compared him

with Monsieur de Chédeville, that worthy gentleman who showed no fine

airs amongst the peasantry, but was glad to be able to render them

any service he could. He was a genuine and true-hearted old-fashioned

French nobleman, indeed; while that tall piece of stand-offishness,

that mushroom millionaire, looked down at them contemptuously from the

height of his grandeur, and even refused to drink a glass of the wine

of the district, fearing, no doubt, that it might poison him. It surely

wasn't possible that they meant to support him; nobody changed a good

sound horse for a blind one.

"What fault have you got to find with Monsieur de Chédeville?" he

continued. "For years past he has been your deputy, and has always

looked after your interests. And now you desert him for a man whom you

looked upon as a scoundrel at the last elections, when the Government

opposed him. Confound it all, what are you thinking about?"

Macqueron, who did not want to engage in a direct contest with the

mayor, pretended to be busy helping his wife. All the peasants had

listened to Hourdequin in stolid silence, without their faces giving

the slightest clue as to their secret thoughts. It was Delhomme who

answered at last:

"We didn't know him then."

"Ah, but you know him now, this fine fellow! You heard him say that he

wanted to see corn cheap, and that he would vote for the importation

of foreign corn to bring down the price of our own. I have already

explained to you that that means complete ruin for us. After that, you

surely can't be such fools as to believe in the fine promises he makes

you. When he has once got your votes, you'll soon find him turning

round and laughing at you."

A vague smile played over Delhomme's tanned face, and all the latent

cunning of his narrow intelligence showed itself in the few sentences

which he now slowly spoke.

"He said what he said, and we believe what we believe. He or

another--does it much matter? We've only one wish, and that is that the

Government should be strong enough so that people may do their business

quietly; and the best way of ensuring that is surely to send the

Government the deputy it asks for, isn't it? It's enough for us that

this gentleman from Châteaudun is the Emperor's friend."

On hearing this last remark Hourdequin felt bewildered. Why, Monsieur

de Chédeville himself had been the Emperor's friend at the last

election! Oh! the miserable race of serfs that ever belonged to the

master who chastised and fed it! To-day, as ever, these fellows were

still full of the hereditary humility and egotism, seeing nothing and

caring for nothing beyond their meal that day.

"Well," he shouted, "I swear to you by all that's sacred that on the

day this Rochefontaine is elected I will send in my resignation.

Do they take me for a mere puppet, to say black to-day and white

to-morrow? Why, if those blackguards of republicans were at the

Tuileries, you'd be on their side, you would indeed!"

Macqueron's eyes glistened brightly. The mayor had just decreed his

own fall, for the undertaking which he had given would, in his present

state of unpopularity, suffice to make all the country-side vote

against Monsieur de Chédeville.

Just at that moment Hyacinthe, who was sitting unnoticed in his corner

with his friend Canon, burst into such a loud titter that all eyes were

turned upon him. Leaning his elbows on the table, resting his chin

in his hands, and grinning contemptuously as he gazed round at the

assembled peasants, he cried out:

"A pack of poltroons! a pack of poltroons!"

Just at that moment Buteau came in. In crossing the threshold, his

quick eye caught sight of Françoise in the haberdashery shop, and of

Jean, sitting against the wall, listening and waiting for his master.

Good! the girl and her lover were there, and now they'd see something!

"Ah, here comes my brother, the greatest poltroon of the lot!"

exclaimed Hyacinthe.

Threatening expressions were now heard, and the peasants were about to

turn their slanderer out of the tavern, when Leroi, otherwise Canon,

raised his hoarse voice, which had ranted at all the Socialistic

meetings in Paris.

"Hold your jaw, my fine fellow, they're not such fools as they look.

Listen to me, now, you other chaps, you peasants. What would you

say if a notice should be stuck up on the door of the municipal

office, printed in big letters, and containing this announcement:

'Revolutionary Commune of Paris. First: All taxes are abolished.

Second: Military service is abolished.' Well, what would you say to

that, you earth-grubbers?"

Canon's words produced such an extraordinary effect that Delhomme,

Fouan, Clou, and even Bécu himself sat gaping blankly, with widely

staring eyes. Lequeu let his paper fall; Hourdequin, who was leaving

the room, came back again; and Buteau, forgetting all about Françoise,

sat down on a corner of the table. They all gazed at the ragged fellow,

the vagabond tramp who was the terror of the districts he passed

through, and who lived upon extorted alms and what he could steal. Only

the previous week he had been expelled from La Borderie, where he had

appeared in the gloaming like a spectre. It was owing to this that he

was now staying with Hyacinthe, pending a fresh disappearance.

"Ah, I see that such an announcement would be welcome," Canon continued

gaily.

"Indeed it would!" confessed Buteau. "It was only yesterday that I took

a lot of money to the collector again. There's no end to those taxes!

The authorities seem to want the very skin off one's body!"

"And what a blessing it would be," exclaimed Delhomme, "if one were not

forced to see one's sons marched off! It's costing me a pretty penny, I

can tell you, to get my Nénesse exempted."

"And then, if you don't pay," added Fouan, "they take your lads from

you and have them shot!"

Canon nodded his head, and grinned in triumph.

"Well, you see that after all those earth-grubbers are not quite such

fools as you thought!" he said to Hyacinthe.

Then, turning to the others, he continued:

"They are always telling us that you are Conservatives, and that you

wouldn't allow any change. But it's conservative of your own interests

that you are, isn't it? You'll let us work, and you'll help in anything

to your own advantage. You'd be prepared to do a good deal, wouldn't

you, for the sake of keeping your money and your children? Of course

you would, or you'd be a set of arrant blockheads."

No one was drinking now, and an uneasy expression began to appear on

the peasants' heavy faces. Canon continued his address, revelling

beforehand in the effect which he was going to produce.

"And that's why I'm at ease. I've known all about your feelings since

you've driven me away from your doors with stones. As that stout

gentleman here said, you will all rally to our side, to us, the Reds

and the Communists, when we are installed at the Tuileries."

"No, no! indeed no!" cried Buteau, Delhomme, and the others, all at

once.

Hourdequin, who had been listening attentively, shrugged his shoulders.

"You're wasting your breath, my good fellow," he said.

Canon, however, still smiled with the confident expression of a

believer, and leaning back against the wall, he rubbed first one

shoulder and then the other with an air of quiet satisfaction. Then he

began to tell them all about the coming revolution, vague mysterious

hints of which had been wafted from farm to farm, alarming both masters

and servants. Their comrades in Paris, he said, would commence by

forcibly assuming the reins of government. There would not be much

difficulty about that, and it would not be necessary to shoot as many

people as might, perhaps, be expected; all the big bazaar would topple

down at the least touch; it was so thoroughly rotten. Then, as soon

as they had gained supreme power, they would abolish all payment of

rent and confiscate all large fortunes, so that that all the money, as

well as all the machinery and plant, would come into possession of the

nation. Then they would reorganise society upon an entirely new basis,

making it one vast financial, industrial, and commercial house of

business, in which each would have his fair share of work and comfort.

In the country districts matters would be still simpler. They would

commence by turning out the landowners and taking possession of the

soil!

"You'd better try it on!" interrupted Hourdequin. "You'll find yourself

received with pitchforks! The poorest little landowner in the country

wouldn't let you carry off a handful of his soil!"

"Have I said a word about touching poor folks?" replied Canon, blandly.

"No, we are not such fools as to quarrel with the small owners. No,

no, we shall not touch the land of the poor fellows who are making a

starvation livelihood out of a few acres. It's only the plump gentlemen

like yourself, with their four and five hundred acres, who grow rich by

the sweat of their labourers, whose possessions we shall confiscate.

Ah, confound it, I don't fancy you'll find any of your neighbours

coming to your defence with their pitchforks. They'd be only too glad

to see you stripped."

Macqueron broke out into a loud laugh, as though he looked upon the

whole matter as a joke, and the others followed his example. The farmer

turned somewhat pale, feeling that the old hereditary hatred still

abode in the peasants' breasts. The scoundrel was right. Every one of

all these peasants, even the honestest of them, would help to plunder

him of La Borderie.

"But in my case now," asked Buteau, gravely; "I own about a score of

acres, shall I be allowed to keep them?"

"By all means, my friend; but later on when you see the results

attained in the national farms around you you will certainly come of

your own accord, without the least solicitation, and add your own land

to them. We shall do everything on a large scale, with the command

of great capital, and all the resources of art and science at our

disposal. But that's a matter I don't know so much about. You ought to

hear some of the people up in Paris relate how it is that agriculture

is hopeless if carried on upon any other basis than this. Yes, you'll

come and offer your land of your own accord."

Buteau's face now wore an expression of profound incredulity. He no

longer understood Canon, still he felt reassured at being told that

he would not be forced to give up anything. As for Hourdequin, his

curiosity was excited upon hearing Canon hazily hold forth on the

subject of this great scheme of national farming, and he once more lent

an attentive ear. The others awaited the finish as if they had been at

the theatre. Lequeu, whose pallid face kept flushing crimson, had twice

opened his mouth as though he were going to interpose a remark, but

each time, like a prudent man, he had withheld it.

"And what is my share to be?" suddenly exclaimed Hyacinthe. "Every one

must have his share! Liberty, equality, and fraternity!"

Canon at once lost his temper, and raised his hand as though he were

going to strike his friend.

"Hold your row with your liberty, and equality, and fraternity!

Does any one need to be free? No, freedom's a farce. You want the

gentlefolks to put us into their pockets again, eh? No, no, people

must be forced into being happy, whether they will or no! And as for

equality and fraternity, would you ever consent to being the equal and

the brother of a bailiff? No, no; it was by believing nonsense of that

kind that the Republicans of '48 made fools of themselves!"

Hyacinthe, quite at a loss, simply declared that he was in favour of

the great Revolution.

"Hold your tongue; you rile me!" cried Canon. "That's your tune, eh?

A nice pack of lies always being drummed into our ears! Can that

ridiculous farce be compared for a single moment with what we mean to

do? You'll see it all when the people are the masters; and it won't

be very long coming, all's cracking, and I'll promise you that this

century of ours will finish up in a very much prettier fashion than the

last one did. There'll be such a sweeping clean-out as has never yet

been witnessed!"

All the company shuddered, and even that sot Hyacinthe drew back,

alarmed and disgusted at hearing that they were not all to be brothers.

Jean, who had hitherto been interested in what was going on, also

made a gesture of repulsion. Canon, however, had sprung to his feet,

with his eyes glistening, while his face seemed bathed in a prophetic

ecstasy.

"And it must come," he cried; "it's fated. It can no more help

happening than a stone thrown up in the air can help falling down. And

we shall have no more twaddling priests, and stories of another world,

and right and justice, things which no one has ever seen any more

than they've seen God. No, the only thing we shall concern ourselves

about is being perfectly happy. Ah! my fine fellow, we shall arrange

matters so that every one shall have the greatest amount of enjoyment

with the least possible amount of work. We shall make machinery work

for us, and four hours' daily superintendence of it will be the most

that will be required. It may be that in time we shall have absolutely

nothing to do, and be able to fold our arms in complete idleness. And

everywhere there'll be a glut of pleasure; and all our desires will be

pampered and satisfied. Yes, there will be meat, and wine, and women

galore, and we shall be able to take treble the quantity of pleasure

that we can take now, for we shall be stronger and healthier. There

will be no more poverty, no more invalids, no more old folks, thanks

to our improved organisation, our easier life, our perfect hospitals,

and comfortable free homes. It will be an absolute Paradise! All the

science in the world will be called into use for our pleasure! And life

will then be real enjoyment!"

Buteau, fairly carried away, brought his fist down upon the table with

a bang as he shouted:

"No more taxes! no more conscription! no more worries of any sort!

nothing but pleasure! Yes, I'm quite willing to sign that programme."

"Certainly," observed Delhomme, sagaciously. "A man would be his own

enemy not to sign it."

Fouan also expressed his approval, as did Macqueron, Clou, and the

others. Bécu, who, with his authoritative principles, was quite

stupefied and overcome, stepped up to Hourdequin, and asked him in

a whisper if he ought not to take this blackguard who attacked the

Emperor to the lock-up. The farmer, however, calmed him by shrugging

his shoulders. Happiness! Ah, yes, they now dreamed of winning it

through science, as they had previously dreamed of winning it through

right and justice! Perhaps the new theory might be the more logical,

but anyway it was not likely to bear the expected fruit yet awhile! The

farmer then again prepared to leave, and called to Jean, who was still

absorbed in the discussion, but just at that moment Lequeu suddenly

yielded to his eager longing to join in the debate. He had for some

time past been choking with suppressed rage.

"Take care," he burst out in his shrill voice, "take care that you are

not all killed before this fine state of affairs comes off; killed by

hunger, or by the bullets of the gendarmes, if starvation should make

you refractory----"

The others looked at him without understanding him.

"Nothing can be more certain," he continued, "if corn continues to

be imported from America, in a hundred years from now there won't be

a single peasant left in all France. Do you think that our land can

contend with yonder one? Long before we have had time to put these new

plans in practice, the foreigners will have inundated us with grain.

I have read a book which tells all about it. You fellows are all

doomed----"

In his angry excitement, he suddenly became aware that all the scared

faces were turned towards him; and he did not even finish the sentence

he was uttering, but making an angry gesture, pretended to bury himself

in his newspaper again.

"The American corn will certainly do for you all," exclaimed Canon,

"unless the people take possession of the large holdings."

"And I," said Hourdequin in conclusion, "I tell you again that this

American corn must not be allowed to enter the country. And now go and

vote for Monsieur Rochefontaine if you are tired of having me for your

mayor, and want to see corn at forty-three francs."

He then mounted into his gig, followed by Jean, who exchanged a meaning

glance with Françoise. As the young man whipped the horse on, he said

to his master:

"It doesn't do to think too much about all those affairs, they would

drive one crazy."

Hourdequin signified his approval by nodding his head.

In the tavern, Macqueron was now talking in a low but animated tone

with Delhomme, while Canon, who had once more assumed an air of

supercilious scorn for everybody, finished the brandy, and ridiculed

the snubbed Hyacinthe, dubbing him "Miss Ninety-three." Buteau, waking

up from a reverie, now suddenly noticed that Jean had gone away, and

he was surprised to see Françoise still standing at the door of the

room, where she and Berthe had come to listen to what was going on. He

felt annoyed with himself for having wasted his time over politics,

when he had serious business on hand. Those wretched politics seemed

able to make a man forget everything else. He now entered into a long

conversation with Cœlina, who ultimately prevented him from making an

immediate scandal. It would be much preferable, she said, if Françoise

returned to his house of her own accord, when they had succeeded in

calming her. Then he went off, threatening, however, that he would

return to fetch the girl with a rope and a stick, if the Macquerons did

not prevail upon her to come back.

On the following Sunday Monsieur Rochefontaine was elected deputy; and

Hourdequin having sent in his resignation to the prefect, to avoid

being dismissed, Macqueron at last became mayor, and almost burst

through the skin in his insolent triumph.