but from the moment in which they entered the gorges of the Seille all
conversation ceased, as if they felt oppressed by the menacing walls
of giant rock that seemed closing in upon them. Was not this the end
of the earth, and were they not going to roll into the unknown, over
the edge of some abyss? An eagle soared by, uttering a shrill cry.

Willows appeared again, and the carriage was rolling lightly along the
bank of the Viorne, when Felicite began without transition, as if she
were resuming a conversation already commenced.

"You have no refusal to fear from the mother. She loves Charles
dearly, but she is a very sensible woman, and she understands
perfectly that it is to the boy's advantage that you should take him
with you. And I must tell you, too, that the poor boy is not very
happy with her, since, naturally, the husband prefers his own son and
daughter. For you ought to know everything."

And she went on in this strain, hoping, no doubt, to persuade Maxime
and draw a formal promise from him. She talked until they reached
Plassans. Then, suddenly, as the landau rolled over the pavement of
the faubourg, she said:

"But look! there is his mother. That stout blond at the door there."

At the threshold of a harness-maker's shop hung round with horse
trappings and halters, Justine sat, knitting a stocking, taking the
air, while the little girl and boy were playing on the ground at her
feet. And behind them in the shadow of the shop was to be seen Thomas,
a stout, dark man, occupied in repairing a saddle.