Jealousy is a maleficent deity of the harpy tribe; she embitters
everything she touches.

Ever since the evening that Julien had witnessed the crossing of the
brook by Reine and Claudet, a secret poison had run through his veins,
and embittered every moment of his life. Neither the glowing sun of
June, nor the glorious development of the woods had any charm for him.
In vain did the fields display their golden treasures of ripening corn;
in vain did the pale barley and the silvery oats wave their luxuriant
growth against the dark background of the woods; all these fairylike
effects of summer suggested only prosaic and misanthropic reflections in
Julien's mind. He thought of the tricks, the envy and hatred that the
possession of these little squares of ground brought forth among their
rapacious owners. The prolific exuberance of forest vegetation was an
exemplification of the fierce and destructive activity of the blind
forces of Nature. All the earth was a hateful theatre for the continual
enactment of bloody and monotonous dramas; the worm consuming the plant;
the bird mangling the insect, the deer fighting among themselves,
and man, in his turn, pursuing all kinds of game. He identified nature
with woman, both possessing in his eyes an equally deceiving appearance,
the same beguiling beauty, and the same spirit of ambuscade and perfidy.
The people around him inspired him only with mistrust and suspicion.
In every peasant he met he recognized an enemy, prepared to cheat him
with wheedling words and hypocritical lamentations. Although during the
few months he had experienced the delightful influence of Reine Vincart,
he had been drawn out of his former prejudices, and had imagined he was
rising above the littleness of every-day worries; he now fell back into
hard reality; his feet were again embedded in the muddy ground of village
politics, and consequently village life was a burden to him.