wretched little beings whom he ushered into the world, had conceived
the idea of placing her in Father Fouchard's family as small maid of
all work. True it was that the old boor was a terrible skinflint and a
harsh, stern taskmaster; he had gone into the butchering business from
sordid love of lucre, and his cart was to be seen daily, rain or
shine, on the roads of twenty communes; but if the child was willing
to work she would have a home and a protector, perhaps some small
prospect in the future. At all events she would be spared the
contamination of the factory. And naturally enough it came to pass
that in old Fouchard's household the son and heir and the little maid
of all work fell in love with each other. Honore was then just turned
sixteen and she was twelve, and when she was sixteen and he twenty
there was a drawing for the army; Honore, to his great delight,
secured a lucky number and determined to marry. Nothing had ever
passed between them, thanks to the unusual delicacy that was inherent
in the lad's tranquil, thoughtful nature, more than an occasional hug
and a furtive kiss in the barn. But when he spoke of the marriage to
his father, the old man, who had the stubbornness of the mule, angrily
told him that his son might kill him, but never, never would he
consent, and continued to keep the girl about the house, not worrying
about the matter, expecting it would soon blow over. For two years
longer the young folks kept on adoring and desiring each other, and
never the least breath of scandal sullied their names. Then one day
there was a frightful quarrel between the two men, after which the
young man, feeling he could no longer endure his father's tyranny,
enlisted and was packed off to Africa, while the butcher still
retained the servant-maid, because she was useful to him. Soon after
that a terrible thing happened: Silvine, who had sworn that she would
be true to her lover and await his return, was detected one day, two
short weeks after his departure, in the company of a laborer who had