ted
and badly repaired mechanism of the mill had been replaced by modern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.

"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."

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?"

"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 c