industry. And therefore the husband hurried off to sin while the wife
closed her eyes. In this sense, in defiance of morality and health, did
the capitalist bourgeoisie, which had replaced the old nobility,
virtually re-establish the law of primogeniture. That law had been
abolished at the Revolution for the bourgeoisie's benefit; but now, also
for its own purposes, it revived it. Each family must have but one son.

Mathieu had reached this stage in his reflections when his thoughts were
diverted by several street hawkers who, in selling the last edition of an
evening print, announced a "drawing" of the lottery stock of some
enterprise launched by the Credit National. And then he suddenly recalled
the Moranges in their dining-room, and heard them recapitulate their
dream of making a big fortune as soon as the accountant should have
secured a post in one of the big banking establishments, where the
principals raise men of value to the highest posts. Those Moranges lived
in everlasting dread of seeing their daughter marry a needy petty clerk;
succumbing to that irresistible fever which, in a democracy ravaged by
political equality and economic inequality, impels every one to climb
higher up the social ladder. Envy consumed them at the thought of the
luxury of others; they plunged into debt in order that they might imitate
from afar the elegance of the upper class, and all their natural honesty
and good nature was poisoned by the insanity born of ambitious pride. And
here again but one child was permissible, lest they should be
embarrassed, delayed, forever impeded in the attainment of the future
they coveted.

A crowd of people now barred Mathieu's way, and he perceived that he was
near the theatre, where a first performance was taking place that
evening. It was a theatre where free farcical pieces were produced, and
on its walls were posted huge portraits of its "star," a carroty wench