rule. Among the causes were the fear of having to split up an
inheritance, the desire to rise in the social system, the disgust of
manual toil, and the thirst for the luxuries of town life. Since the soil
was becoming bankrupt, why indeed continue tilling it, when one knew that
one would never grow rich by doing so? Mathieu was on the point of
explaining these things to his wife, but he hesitated, and then simply
said: "Lepailleur does wrong to complain; he has two cows and a horse,
and when there is urgent work he can take an assistant. We, this morning,
had just thirty sous belonging to us, and we own no mill, no scrap of
land. For my part I think his mill superb; I envy him every time I cross
this bridge. Just fancy! we two being the millers--why, we should be very
rich and very happy!"

This made them both laugh, and for another moment they remained seated
there, watching the dark massive mill beside the Yeuse. Between the
willows and poplars on both banks the little river flowed on peacefully,
scarce murmuring as it coursed among the water plants which made it
ripple. Then, amid a clump of oaks, appeared the big shed sheltering the
wheel, and the other buildings garlanded with ivy, honeysuckle, and
creepers, the whole forming a spot of romantic prettiness. And at night,
especially when the mill slept, without a light at any of its windows,
there was nothing of more dreamy, more gentle charm.

"Why!" remarked Mathieu, lowering his voice, "there is somebody under the
willows, beside the water. I heard a slight noise."

"Yes, I know," replied Marianne with tender gayety. "It must be the young
couple who settled themselves in the little house yonder a fortnight ago.
You know whom I mean--Madame Angelin, that schoolmate of Constance's."