where a tawny cloud was rising as from the huge
furnace of some forge.

The minutes slowly passed away. During the afternoon Mathieu had taken
a long walk in the direction of the farms of Mareuil and Lillebonne,
in the hope of quieting his torment by physical fatigue. And in a low
voice, as if speaking to himself, he at last said:

"The ploughing could not take place under better conditions. Yonder on
the plateau the quality of the soil has been much improved by the recent
methods of cultivation; and here, too, on the slopes, the sandy soil
has been greatly enriched by the new distribution of the springs which
Gervais devised. The estate has almost doubled in value since it has
been in his hands and Claire's. There is no break in the prosperity;
labor yields unlimited victory."

"What is the good of it if there is no more love?" murmured Marianne.

"Then, too," continued Mathieu, after a pause, "I went down to the
Yeuse, and from a distance I saw that Gregoire had received the new
machine which Denis has just built for him. It was being unloaded in the
yard. It seems that it imparts a certain movement to the mill-stones,
which saves a good third of the power needed. With such appliances the
earth may produce seas of corn for innumerable nations, they will all
have bread. And that mill-engine, with its regular breath and motion,
will produce fresh wealth also."

"What use is it if people hate one another?" Marianne exclaimed.

At this Mathieu dropped the subject. But, in accordance with a
resolution which he had formed during his walk, he told his wife that
he meant to go to Paris on the morrow. And on noticing her surprise,
he pretended that he wished to see to a certain business matter, the
settlement of an old account. But the truth was, that he could no longer
endure the spectacle of his wife's lingering agony, which brought him
so much suffering. He wished to act, to make a supreme effort at
reconciliation.

At ten o'clock on the following morning, when Mathieu alighted from the
train at the Paris terminus, he drove direct to the factory at Grenelle.
Before everything else he wished to see Denis, who had hitherto taken no
part in the quarrel. For a long time now, indeed ever since Constance's
death, Denis had been installed in the house on the quay with his
wife Marthe and their three children. This occupation of the luxurious
dwelling set apart for the master had been like a final entry into
possession, wit