s
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."

In this fashion he continued explaining his ideas while Gregoire
listened, again quite lively and taking things in a jesting way.

"Well, father," the young man ended by saying, "as you wish that I
should have a calling, it's settled. If I marry Therese, I'll be a
miller."

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 Therese alone, for we can only expect to reap worry with the
Lepailleurs."

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.

Then, one morning Marianne was astounded at finding Gregoire'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.

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 Gregoire had not gone off alone. They pieced
together the incidents of the deplorable affair. Charlotte remembered
that she had heard Gregoire 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 Therese
in some coppice, whence they must have hurried away to Vieux-Bourg
stati