ll-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."

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."

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.

"No, no, that is too much; you desire