ses, where the riches of distant countries, the most varied
climes, were collected together, it was there that his real vocation
came to him; for a voice suddenly arose, calling him away yonder to dim,
unknown regions, vast stretches of country yet sterile, which needed to
be populated, and cleared and sowed with the crops of the future.

For two months Nicolas kept silent respecting the designs which he was
now maturing. He was extremely discreet, as are all men of great energy,
who reflect before they act. He must go, that was certain, since neither
space nor sufficiency of sunlight remained for him in the cradle of his
birth; but if he went off alone, would that not be going in an imperfect
state, deficient in the means needed for the heroic task of populating
and clearing a new land? He knew a girl of Janville, one Lisbeth Moreau,
who was tall and strong, and whose robust health, seriousness, and
activity had charmed him. She was nineteen years of age, and, like
Nicolas, she stifled in the little nook to which destiny had confined
her; for she craved for the free and open air, yonder, afar off. An
orphan, and long dependent on an aunt, who was simply a little village
haberdasher, she had hitherto, from feelings of affection, remained
cloistered in a small and gloomy shop. But her aunt had lately died,
leaving her some ten thousand francs, and her dream was to sell the
little business, and go away and really live at last. One October
evening, when Nicolas and Lisbeth told one another things that they
had never previously told anybody, they came to an understanding. They
resolutely took each other's hand and plighted their troth for life, for
the hard battle of creating a new world, a new family, somewhere on the
earth's broad surface, in those mysterious, far away climes of which
they knew so little. 'Twas a delightful betrothal, full of courage and
faith.

Only then, everything having been settled, did Nicolas speak out,
announcing his departure to his father and mother. It was an autumn
evening, still mild, but fraught with winter's first shiver, and the
twilight was falling. Intense grief wrung the parents' hearts as soon
as they understood their son. This time it was not simply a young one
flying from the family nest to build his own on some neighboring tree
of the common forest; it was flight across the seas forever, severance
without hope of return. They would see their other children again, but
this one was b