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.

"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."

"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."

"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."

"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."

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.

"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, a