"Thesightofallthismademethinkofhim，"hewenton，withhisfaceneartheglass……andIcouldseeanotherman，powerfulandbearded，peeringathimintentlyfromamongstthedarkandpolishedtubesthatcancuresomanyillusions。"Yes；itmademethinkofhim，"
hecontinued，slowly。"Isawapaperthismorning；theyarefightingoverthereagain。He’ssuretobeinit。Hewillmakeithotforthecaballeros。Well，goodlucktohim，poordevil！Hewasperfectlystunning。"
Wewalkedon。
"Iwonderwhetherthecharmworked——yourememberHollis’scharm，ofcourse。Ifitdid……Neverwasasixpencewastedtobetteradvantage！Poordevil！Iwonderwhetherhegotridofthatfriendofhis。Hopeso……Doyouknow，Isometimesthinkthat——"
Istoodstillandlookedathim。
"Yes……Imean，whetherthethingwasso，youknow……whetheritreallyhappenedtohim……Whatdoyouthink？"
"Mydearchap，"Icried，"youhavebeentoolongawayfromhome。Whataquestiontoask！Onlylookatallthis。"
Awaterygleamofsunshineflashedfromthewestandwentoutbetweentwolonglinesofwalls；andthenthebrokenconfusionofroofs，thechimney-stacks，thegoldletterssprawlingoverthefrontsofhouses，thesombrepolishofwindows，stoodresignedandsullenunderthefallinggloom。Thewholelengthofthestreet，deepasawellandnarrowlikeacorridor，wasfullofasombreandceaselessstir。Ourearswerefilledbyaheadlongshuffleandbeatofrapidfootstepsandbyanunderlyingrumour——arumourvast，faint，pulsating，asofpantingbreaths，ofbeatinghearts，ofgaspingvoices。Innumerableeyesstaredstraightinfront，feetmovedhurriedly，blankfacesflowed，armsswung。Overall，anarrowraggedstripofsmokyskywoundaboutbetweenthehighroofs，extendedandmotionless，likeasoiledstreamerflyingabovetheroutofamob。
"Ye-e-e-s，"saidJackson，meditatively。
Thebigwheelsofhansomsturnedslowlyalongtheedgeofside-walks；
apale-facedyouthstrolled，overcomebyweariness，bythesideofhisstickandwiththetailsofhisovercoatflappinggentlynearhisheels；horsessteppedgingerlyonthegreasypavement，tossingtheirheads；twoyounggirlspassedby，talkingvivaciouslyandwithshiningeyes；afineoldfellowstrutted，red-faced，strokingawhitemoustache；andalineofyellowboardswithbluelettersonthemapproachedusslowly，tossingonhighbehindoneanotherlikesomequeerwreckageadriftuponariverofhats。
"Ye-e-es，"repeatedJackson。Hisclearblueeyeslookedabout，contemptuous，amusedandhard，liketheeyesofaboy。Aclumsystringofred，yellow，andgreenomnibusesrolledswaying，monstrousandgaudy；twoshabbychildrenranacrosstheroad；aknotofdirtymenwithredneckerchiefsroundtheirbarethroatslurchedalong，discussingfilthily；araggedoldmanwithafaceofdespairyelledhorriblyinthemudthenameofapaper；whilefaroff，amongstthetossingheadsofhorses，thedullflashofharnesses，thejumbleoflustrouspanelsandroofsofcarriages，wecouldseeapoliceman，helmetedanddark，stretchingoutarigidarmatthecrossingofthestreets。
"Yes；Iseeit，"saidJackson，slowly。"Itisthere；itpants，itruns，itrolls；itisstrongandalive；itwouldsmashyouifyoudidn’tlookout；butI’llbehangedifitisyetasrealtomeas……astheotherthing……say，Karain’sstory。"
Ithinkthat，decidedly，hehadbeentoolongawayfromhome。
THEIDIOTS
WeweredrivingalongtheroadfromTreguiertoKervanda。Wepassedatasmarttrotbetweenthehedgestoppinganearthwalloneachsideoftheroad；thenatthefootofthesteepascentbeforePloumarthehorsedroppedintoawalk，andthedriverjumpeddownheavilyfromthebox。Heflickedhiswhipandclimbedtheincline，steppingclumsilyuphillbythesideofthecarriage，onehandonthefootboard，hiseyesontheground。Afterawhileheliftedhishead，pointeduptheroadwiththeendofthewhip，andsaid——
"Theidiot！"
Thesunwasshiningviolentlyupontheundulatingsurfaceoftheland。
Therisesweretoppedbyclumpsofmeagretrees，withtheirbranchesshowinghighontheskyasiftheyhadbeenpercheduponstilts。Thesmallfields，cutupbyhedgesandstonewallsthatzig-zaggedovertheslopes，layinrectangularpatchesofvividgreensandyellows，resemblingtheunskilfuldaubsofanaivepicture。Andthelandscapewasdividedintwobythewhitestreakofaroadstretchinginlongloopsfaraway，likeariverofdustcrawlingoutofthehillsonitswaytothesea。
"Hereheis，"saidthedriver，again。
Inthelonggrassborderingtheroadafaceglidedpastthecarriageatthelevelofthewheelsaswedroveslowlyby。Theimbecilefacewasred，andthebulletheadwithclose-croppedhairseemedtoliealone，itschininthedust。Thebodywaslostinthebushesgrowingthickalongthebottomofthedeepditch。
Itwasaboy’sface。Hemighthavebeensixteen，judgingfromthesize——perhapsless，perhapsmore。Suchcreaturesareforgottenbytime，andliveuntouchedbyyearstilldeathgathersthemupintoitscompassionatebosom；thefaithfuldeaththatneverforgetsinthepressofworkthemostinsignificantofitschildren。
"Ah！there’sanother，"saidtheman，withacertainsatisfactioninhistone，asifhehadcaughtsightofsomethingexpected。
Therewasanother。Thatonestoodnearlyinthemiddleoftheroadintheblazeofsunshineattheendofhisownshortshadow。Andhestoodwithhandspushedintotheoppositesleevesofhislongcoat，hisheadsunkbetweentheshoulders，allhunchedupinthefloodofheat。Fromadistancehehadtheaspectofonesufferingfromintensecold。
"Thosearetwins，"explainedthedriver。
Theidiotshuffledtwopacesoutofthewayandlookedatusoverhisshoulderwhenwebrushedpasthim。Theglancewasunseeingandstaring，afascinatedglance；buthedidnotturntolookafterus。
Probablytheimagepassedbeforetheeyeswithoutleavinganytraceonthemisshapenbrainofthecreature。WhenwehadtoppedtheascentI
lookedoverthehood。Hestoodintheroadjustwherewehadlefthim。
Thedriverclamberedintohisseat，clickedhistongue，andwewentdownhill。Thebrakesqueakedhorriblyfromtimetotime。Atthefootheeasedoffthenoisymechanismandsaid，turninghalfroundonhisbox——
"Weshallseesomemoreofthemby-and-by。"
"Moreidiots？Howmanyofthemarethere，then？"Iasked。
"There’sfourofthem——childrenofafarmernearPloumarhere……
Theparentsaredeadnow，"headded，afterawhile。"Thegrandmotherlivesonthefarm。Inthedaytimetheyknockaboutonthisroad，andtheycomehomeatduskalongwiththecattle……It’sagoodfarm。"
Wesawtheothertwo：aboyandagirl，asthedriversaid。Theyweredressedexactlyalike，inshapelessgarmentswithpetticoat-likeskirts。Theimperfectthingthatlivedwithinthemmovedthosebeingstohowlatusfromthetopofthebank，wheretheysprawledamongstthetoughstalksoffurze。Theircroppedblackheadsstuckoutfromthebrightyellowwallofcountlesssmallblossoms。Thefaceswerepurplewiththestrainofyelling；thevoicessoundedblankandcrackedlikeamechanicalimitationofoldpeople’svoices；andsuddenlyceasedwhenweturnedintoalane。
Isawthemmanytimesinmywanderingaboutthecountry。Theylivedonthatroad，driftingalongitslengthhereandthere，accordingtotheinexplicableimpulsesoftheirmonstrousdarkness。Theywereanoffencetothesunshine，areproachtoemptyheaven，ablightontheconcentratedandpurposefulvigourofthewildlandscape。Intimethestoryoftheirparentsshapeditselfbeforemeoutofthelistlessanswerstomyquestions，outoftheindifferentwordsheardinwaysideinnsorontheveryroadthoseidiotshaunted。Someofitwastoldbyanemaciatedandscepticaloldfellowwithatremendouswhip，whilewetrudgedtogetheroverthesandsbythesideofatwo-wheeledcartloadedwithdrippingseaweed。Thenatothertimesotherpeopleconfirmedandcompletedthestory：tillitstoodatlastbeforeme，ataleformidableandsimple，astheyalwaysare，thosedisclosuresofobscuretrialsenduredbyignoranthearts。
WhenhereturnedfromhismilitaryserviceJean-PierreBacadoufoundtheoldpeopleverymuchaged。Heremarkedwithpainthattheworkofthefarmwasnotsatisfactorilydone。Thefatherhadnottheenergyofolddays。Thehandsdidnotfeeloverthemtheeyeofthemaster。
Jean-Pierrenotedwithsorrowthattheheapofmanureinthecourtyardbeforetheonlyentrancetothehousewasnotsolargeasitshouldhavebeen。Thefenceswereoutofrepair，andthecattlesufferedfromneglect。Athomethemotherwaspracticallybedridden，andthegirlschatteredloudlyinthebigkitchen，unrebuked，frommorningtonight。
Hesaidtohimself："Wemustchangeallthis。"Hetalkedthematteroverwithhisfatheroneeveningwhentheraysofthesettingsunenteringtheyardbetweentheouthousesruledtheheavyshadowswithluminousstreaks。Overthemanureheapfloatedamist，opal-tintedandodorous，andthemaraudinghenswouldstopintheirscratchingtoexaminewithasuddenglanceoftheirroundeyethetwomen，bothleanandtall，talkinginhoarsetones。Theoldman，alltwistedwithrheumatismandbowedwithyearsofwork，theyoungerbonyandstraight，spokewithoutgesturesintheindifferentmannerofpeasants，graveandslow。Butbeforethesunhadsetthefatherhadsubmittedtothesensibleargumentsoftheson。"ItisnotformethatIamspeaking，"insistedJean-Pierre。"Itisfortheland。It’sapitytoseeitbadlyused。Iamnotimpatientformyself。"Theoldfellownoddedoverhisstick。"Idaresay；Idaresay，"hemuttered。"Youmayberight。Dowhatyoulike。It’sthemotherthatwillbepleased。"
Themotherwaspleasedwithherdaughter-in-law。Jean-Pierrebroughtthetwo-wheeledspring-cartwitharushintotheyard。Thegrayhorsegallopedclumsily，andthebrideandbridegroom，sittingsidebyside，werejerkedbackwardsandforwardsbytheupanddownmotionoftheshafts，inamannerregularandbrusque。Ontheroadthedistancedweddingguestsstraggledinpairsandgroups。Themenadvancedwithheavysteps，swingingtheiridlearms。Theywerecladintownclothes；
jacketscutwithclumsysmartness，hardblackhats，immenseboots，polishedhighly。Theirwomenallinsimpleblack，withwhitecapsandshawlsoffadedtintsfoldedtriangularlyontheback，strolledlightlybytheirside。Infronttheviolinsangastridenttune，andthebiniousnoredandhummed，whiletheplayercaperedsolemnly，liftinghighhisheavyclogs。Thesombreprocessiondriftedinandoutofthenarrowlanes，throughsunshineandthroughshade，betweenfieldsandhedgerows，scaringthelittlebirdsthatdartedawayintroopsrightandleft。IntheyardofBacadou’sfarmthedarkribbonwounditselfupintoamassofmenandwomenpushingatthedoorwithcriesandgreetings。Theweddingdinnerwasrememberedformonths。Itwasasplendidfeastintheorchard。Farmersofconsiderablemeansandexcellentreputeweretobefoundsleepinginditches，allalongtheroadtoTreguier，evenaslateastheafternoonofthenextday。
AllthecountrysideparticipatedinthehappinessofJean-Pierre。Heremainedsober，and，togetherwithhisquietwife，keptoutoftheway，lettingfatherandmotherreaptheirdueofhonourandthanks。
Butthenextdayhetookholdstrongly，andtheoldfolksfeltashadow——precursorofthegrave——falluponthemfinally。Theworldistotheyoung。
Whenthetwinswereborntherewasplentyofroominthehouse，forthemotherofJean-PierrehadgoneawaytodwellunderaheavystoneinthecemeteryofPloumar。Onthatday，forthefirsttimesincehisson’smarriage，theelderBacadou，neglectedbythecacklinglotofstrangewomenwhothrongedthekitchen，leftinthemorninghisseatunderthemantelofthefireplace，andwentintotheemptycow-house，shakinghiswhitelocksdismally。Grandsonswereallverywell，buthewantedhissoupatmidday。Whenshownthebabies，hestaredatthemwithafixedgaze，andmutteredsomethinglike："It’stoomuch。"
Whetherhemeanttoomuchhappiness，orsimplycommenteduponthenumberofhisdescendants，itisimpossibletosay。Helookedoffended——asfarashisoldwoodenfacecouldexpressanything；andfordaysafterwardscouldbeseen，almostanytimeoftheday，sittingatthegate，withhisnoseoverhisknees，apipebetweenhisgums，andgatheredupintoakindofragingconcentratedsulkiness。Oncehespoketohisson，alludingtothenewcomerswithagroan："Theywillquarrelovertheland。""Don’tbotheraboutthat，father，"answeredJean-Pierre，stolidly，andpassed，bentdouble，towingarecalcitrantcowoverhisshoulder。
Hewashappy，andsowasSusan，hiswife。Itwasnotanetherealjoywelcomingnewsoulstostruggle，perchancetovictory。Infourteenyearsbothboyswouldbeahelp；and，lateron，Jean-Pierrepicturedtwobigsonsstridingoverthelandfrompatchtopatch，wringingtributefromtheearthbelovedandfruitful。Susanwashappytoo，forshedidnotwanttobespokenofastheunfortunatewoman，andnowshehadchildrennoonecouldcallherthat。Bothherselfandherhusbandhadseensomethingofthelargerworld——heduringthetimeofhisservice；whileshehadspentayearorsoinPariswithaBretonfamily；buthadbeentoohome-sicktoremainlongerawayfromthehillyandgreencountry，setinabarrencircleofrocksandsands，whereshehadbeenborn。Shethoughtthatoneoftheboysoughtperhapstobeapriest，butsaidnothingtoherhusband，whowasarepublican，andhatedthe"crows，"ashecalledtheministersofreligion。Thechristeningwasasplendidaffair。Allthecommunecametoit，fortheBacadouswererichandinfluential，and，nowandthen，didnotmindtheexpense。Thegrandfatherhadanewcoat。
Somemonthsafterwards，oneeveningwhenthekitchenhadbeenswept，andthedoorlocked，Jean-Pierre，lookingatthecot，askedhiswife：
"What’sthematterwiththosechildren？"And，asifthesewords，spokencalmly，hadbeentheportentofmisfortune，sheansweredwithaloudwailthatmusthavebeenheardacrosstheyardinthepig-sty；
forthepigs（theBacadoushadthefinestpigsinthecountry）stirredandgruntedcomplaininglyinthenight。Thehusbandwentongrindinghisbreadandbutterslowly，gazingatthewall，thesoup-platesmokingunderhischin。Hehadreturnedlatefromthemarket，wherehehadoverheard（notforthefirsttime）whispersbehindhisback。Herevolvedthewordsinhismindashedroveback。"Simple！Bothofthem……Neveranyuse！……Well！Maybe，maybe。Onemustsee。
Wouldaskhiswife。"Thiswasheranswer。Hefeltlikeablowonhischest，butsaidonly："Go，drawmesomecider。Iamthirsty！"
Shewentoutmoaning，anemptyjuginherhand。Thenhearose，tookupthelight，andmovedslowlytowardsthecradle。Theyslept。Helookedatthemsideways，finishedhismouthfulthere，wentbackheavily，andsatdownbeforehisplate。Whenhiswifereturnedheneverlookedup，butswallowedacoupleofspoonfulsnoisily，andremarked，inadullmanner——
"Whentheysleeptheyarelikeotherpeople’schildren。"
Shesatdownsuddenlyonastoolnearby，andshookwithasilenttempestofsobs，unabletospeak。Hefinishedhismeal，andremainedidlythrownbackinhischair，hiseyeslostamongsttheblackraftersoftheceiling。Beforehimthetallowcandleflaredredandstraight，sendingupaslenderthreadofsmoke。Thelightlayontherough，sunburntskinofhisthroat；thesunkcheekswerelikepatchesofdarkness，andhisaspectwasmournfullystolid，asifhehadruminatedwithdifficultyendlessideas。Thenhesaid，deliberately——
"Wemustsee……consultpeople。Don’tcry……Theywon’tallbelikethat……surely！Wemustsleepnow。"
Afterthethirdchild，alsoaboy，wasborn，Jean-Pierrewentabouthisworkwithtensehopefulness。Hislipsseemedmorenarrow，moretightlycompressedthanbefore；asifforfearoflettingtheearthhetilledhearthevoiceofhopethatmurmuredwithinhisbreast。Hewatchedthechild，steppinguptothecotwithaheavyclangofsabotsonthestonefloor，andglancedin，alonghisshoulder，withthatindifferencewhichislikeadeformityofpeasanthumanity。Liketheearththeymasterandserve，thosemen，slowofeyeandspeech，donotshowtheinnerfire；sothat，atlast，itbecomesaquestionwiththemaswiththeearth，whatthereisinthecore：heat，violence，aforcemysteriousandterrible——ornothingbutaclod，amassfertileandinert，coldandunfeeling，readytobearacropofplantsthatsustainlifeorgivedeath。
Themotherwatchedwithothereyes；listenedwithotherwiseexpectantears。Underthehighhangingshelvessupportinggreatsidesofbaconoverhead，herbodywasbusybythegreatfireplace，attentivetothepotswingingonirongallows，scrubbingthelongtablewherethefieldhandswouldsitdowndirectlytotheireveningmeal。Hermindremainedbythecradle，nightanddayonthewatch，tohopeandsuffer。Thatchild，liketheothertwo，neversmiled，neverstretcheditshandstoher，neverspoke；neverhadaglanceofrecognitionforherinitsbigblackeyes，whichcouldonlystarefixedlyatanyglitter，butfailedhopelesslytofollowthebrillianceofasun-rayslippingslowlyalongthefloor。Whenthemenwereatworkshespentlongdaysbetweenherthreeidiotchildrenandthechildishgrandfather，whosatgrim，angular，andimmovable，withhisfeetnearthewarmashesofthefire。Thefeebleoldfellowseemedtosuspectthattherewassomethingwrongwithhisgrandsons。Onlyonce，movedeitherbyaffectionorbythesenseofproprieties，heattemptedtonursetheyoungest。Hetooktheboyupfromthefloor，clickedhistongueathim，andessayedashakygallopofhisbonyknees。Thenhelookedcloselywithhismistyeyesatthechild’sfaceanddepositedhimdowngentlyontheflooragain。Andhesat，hisleanshankscrossed，noddingatthesteamescapingfromthecooking-potwithagazesenileandworried。
ThenmuteafflictiondweltinBacadou’sfarmhouse，sharingthebreathandthebreadofitsinhabitants；andthepriestofthePloumarparishhadgreatcauseforcongratulation。Hecalledupontherichlandowner，theMarquisdeChavanes，onpurposetodeliverhimselfwithjoyfulunctionofsolemnplatitudesabouttheinscrutablewaysofProvidence。Inthevastdimnessofthecurtaineddrawing-room，thelittleman，resemblingablackbolster，leanedtowardsacouch，hishatonhisknees，andgesticulatedwithafathandattheelongated，gracefully-flowinglinesoftheclearParisiantoilettefromwhichthehalf-amused，half-boredmarquiselistenedwithgraciouslanguor。Hewasexultingandhumble，proudandawed。Theimpossiblehadcometopass。Jean-PierreBacadou，theenragedrepublicanfarmer，hadbeentomasslastSunday——hadproposedtoentertainthevisitingpriestsatthenextfestivalofPloumar！ItwasatriumphfortheChurchandforthegoodcause。"IthoughtIwouldcomeatoncetotellMonsieurleMarquis。Iknowhowanxiousheisforthewelfareofourcountry，"
declaredthepriest，wipinghisface。Hewasaskedtostaytodinner。
TheChavanesreturningthatevening，afterseeingtheirguesttothemaingateofthepark，discussedthematterwhiletheystrolledinthemoonlight，trailingtheirlongshadowsupthestraightavenueofchestnuts。Themarquise，aroyalistofcourse，hadbeenmayorofthecommunewhichincludesPloumar，thescatteredhamletsofthecoast，andthestonyislandsthatfringetheyellowflatnessofthesands。Hehadfelthispositioninsecure，fortherewasastrongrepublicanelementinthatpartofthecountry；butnowtheconversionofJean-Pierremadehimsafe。Hewasverypleased。"Youhavenoideahowinfluentialthosepeopleare，"heexplainedtohiswife。"Now，Iamsure，thenextcommunalelectionwillgoallright。Ishallbere-
elected。""Yourambitionisperfectlyinsatiable，Charles，"exclaimedthemarquise，gaily。"But，machereamie，"arguedthehusband，seriously，"it’smostimportantthattherightmanshouldbemayorthisyear，becauseoftheelectionstotheChamber。Ifyouthinkitamusesme……"
Jean-Pierrehadsurrenderedtohiswife’smother。MadameLevaillewasawomanofbusiness，knownandrespectedwithinaradiusofatleastfifteenmiles。Thick-setandstout，shewasseenaboutthecountry，onfootorinanacquaintance’scart，perpetuallymoving，inspiteofherfifty-eightyears，insteadypursuitofbusiness。Shehadhousesinallthehamlets，sheworkedquarriesofgranite，shefreightedcoasterswithstone——eventradedwiththeChannelIslands。Shewasbroad-cheeked，wide-eyed，persuasiveinspeech：carryingherpointwiththeplacidandinvincibleobstinacyofanoldwomanwhoknowsherownmind。Sheveryseldomsleptfortwonightstogetherinthesamehouse；andthewaysideinnswerethebestplacestoinquireinastoherwhereabouts。Shehadeitherpassed，orwasexpectedtopassthereatsix；orsomebody，comingin，hadseenherinthemorning，orexpectedtomeetherthatevening。Aftertheinnsthatcommandtheroads，thechurcheswerethebuildingsshefrequentedmost。MenofliberalopinionswouldinducesmallchildrentorunintosacrededificestoseewhetherMadameLevaillewasthere，andtotellherthatso-and-sowasintheroadwaitingtospeaktoheraboutpotatoes，orflour，orstones，orhouses；andshewouldcurtailherdevotions，comeoutblinkingandcrossingherselfintothesunshine；readytodiscussbusinessmattersinacalm，sensiblewayacrossatableinthekitchenoftheinnopposite。Latterlyshehadstayedforafewdaysseveraltimeswithherson-in-law，arguingagainstsorrowandmisfortunewithcomposedfaceandgentletones。Jean-Pierrefelttheconvictionsimbibedintheregimenttornoutofhisbreast——notbyargumentsbutbyfacts。Stridingoverhisfieldshethoughtitover。
Therewerethreeofthem。Three！Allalike！Why？Suchthingsdidnothappentoeverybody——tonobodyheeverheardof。One——mightpass。Butthree！Allthree。Foreveruseless，tobefedwhilehelivedand……
Whatwouldbecomeofthelandwhenhedied？Thismustbeseento。Hewouldsacrificehisconvictions。Onedayhetoldhiswife——
"SeewhatyourGodwilldoforus。Payforsomemasses。"
Susanembracedherman。Hestoodunbending，thenturnedonhisheelsandwentout。Butafterwards，whenablacksoutanedarkenedhisdoorway，hedidnotobject；evenofferedsomeciderhimselftothepriest。Helistenedtothetalkmeekly；wenttomassbetweenthetwowomen；accomplishedwhatthepriestcalled"hisreligiousduties"atEaster。Thatmorninghefeltlikeamanwhohadsoldhissoul。Intheafternoonhefoughtferociouslywithanoldfriendandneighbourwhohadremarkedthatthepriestshadthebestofitandwerenowgoingtoeatthepriest-eater。Hecamehomedishevelledandbleeding，andhappeningtocatchsightofhischildren（theywerekeptgenerallyoutoftheway），cursedandsworeincoherently，bangingthetable。Susanwept。MadameLevaillesatserenelyunmoved。Sheassuredherdaughterthat"Itwillpass；"andtakingupherthickumbrella，departedinhastetoseeafteraschoonershewasgoingtoloadwithgranitefromherquarry。
Ayearorsoafterwardsthegirlwasborn。Agirl。Jean-Pierreheardofitinthefields，andwassoupsetbythenewsthathesatdownontheboundarywallandremainedtheretilltheevening，insteadofgoinghomeashewasurgedtodo。Agirl！Hefelthalfcheated。
However，whenhegothomehewaspartlyreconciledtohisfate。Onecouldmarryhertoagoodfellow——nottoagoodfornothing，buttoafellowwithsomeunderstandingandagoodpairofarms。Besides，thenextmaybeaboy，hethought。Ofcoursetheywouldbeallright。Hisnewcredulityknewofnodoubt。Theillluckwasbroken。Hespokecheerilytohiswife。Shewasalsohopeful。Threepriestscametothatchristening，andMadameLevaillewasgodmother。Thechildturnedoutanidiottoo。
ThenonmarketdaysJean-Pierrewasseenbargainingbitterly，quarrelsomeandgreedy；thengettingdrunkwithtaciturnearnestness；
thendrivinghomeintheduskataratefitforawedding，butwithafacegloomyenoughforafuneral。Sometimeshewouldinsistonhiswifecomingwithhim；andtheywoulddriveintheearlymorning，shakingsidebysideonthenarrowseatabovethehelplesspig，that，withtiedlegs，gruntedamelancholysighateveryrut。Themorningdrivesweresilent；butintheevening，cominghome，Jean-Pierre，tipsy，wasviciouslymuttering，andgrowledattheconfoundedwomanwhocouldnotrearchildrenthatwerelikeanybodyelse’s。Susan，holdingonagainsttheerraticswayingsofthecart，pretendednottohear。Once，astheyweredrivingthroughPloumar，someobscureanddrunkenimpulsecausedhimtopullupsharplyoppositethechurch。Themoonswamamongstlightwhiteclouds。Thetombstonesgleamedpaleunderthefrettedshadowsofthetreesinthechurchyard。Eventhevillagedogsslept。Onlythenightingales，awake，spunoutthethrilloftheirsongabovethesilenceofgraves。Jean-Pierresaidthicklytohiswife——
"Whatdoyouthinkisthere？"
Hepointedhiswhipatthetower——inwhichthebigdialoftheclockappearedhighinthemoonlightlikeapallidfacewithouteyes——andgettingoutcarefully，felldownatoncebythewheel。Hepickedhimselfupandclimbedonebyonethefewstepstotheirongateofthechurchyard。Heputhisfacetothebarsandcalledoutindistinctly——
"Heythere！Comeout！"
"Jean！Return！Return！"entreatedhiswifeinlowtones。
Hetooknonotice，andseemedtowaitthere。Thesongofnightingalesbeatonallsidesagainstthehighwallsofthechurch，andflowedbackbetweenstonecrossesandflatgrayslabs，engravedwithwordsofhopeandsorrow。
"Hey！Comeout！"shoutedJean-Pierre，loudly。
Thenightingalesceasedtosing。
"Nobody？"wentonJean-Pierre。"Nobodythere。Aswindleofthecrows。
That’swhatthisis。Nobodyanywhere。Idespiseit。Allez！Houp！"
Heshookthegatewithallhisstrength，andtheironbarsrattledwithafrightfulclanging，likeachaindraggedoverstonesteps。A
dognearbybarkedhurriedly。Jean-Pierrestaggeredback，andafterthreesuccessivedashesgotintohiscart。Susansatveryquietandstill。Hesaidtoherwithdrunkenseverity——
"See？Nobody。I’vebeenmadeafool！Malheur！Somebodywillpayforit。ThenextoneIseenearthehouseIwilllaymywhipon……ontheblackspine……Iwill。Idon’twanthiminthere……heonlyhelpsthecarrioncrowstorobpoorfolk。Iamaman……WewillseeifIcan’thavechildrenlikeanybodyelse……nowyoumind……Theywon’tbeall……all……wesee……"
Sheburstoutthroughthefingersthathidherface——
"Don’tsaythat，Jean；don’tsaythat，myman！"
Hestruckheraswingingblowontheheadwiththebackofhishandandknockedherintothebottomofthecart，whereshecrouched，thrownaboutlamentablybyeveryjolt。Hedrovefuriously，standingup，brandishinghiswhip，shakingthereinsoverthegrayhorsethatgallopedponderously，makingtheheavyharnessleapuponhisbroadquarters。Thecountryrangclamorousinthenightwiththeirritatedbarkingoffarmdogs，thatfollowedtherattleofwheelsallalongtheroad。Acoupleofbelatedwayfarershadonlyjusttimetostepintotheditch。Athisowngatehecaughtthepostandwasshotoutofthecartheadfirst。Thehorsewentonslowlytothedoor。AtSusan’spiercingcriesthefarmhandsrushedout。Shethoughthimdead，buthewasonlysleepingwherehefell，andcursedhismen，whohastenedtohim，fordisturbinghisslumbers。
Autumncame。Thecloudedskydescendedlowupontheblackcontoursofthehills；andthedeadleavesdancedinspiralwhirlsundernakedtrees，tillthewind，sighingprofoundly，laidthemtorestinthehollowsofbarevalleys。Andfrommorningtillnightonecouldseealloverthelandblackdenudedboughs，theboughsgnarledandtwisted，asifcontortedwithpain，swayingsadlybetweenthewetcloudsandthesoakedearth。Theclearandgentlestreamsofsummerdaysrusheddiscolouredandragingatthestonesthatbarredthewaytothesea，withthefuryofmadnessbentuponsuicide。Fromhorizontohorizonthegreatroadtothesandslaybetweenthehillsinadullglitterofemptycurves，resemblinganunnavigableriverofmud。
Jean-Pierrewentfromfieldtofield，movingblurredandtallinthedrizzle，orstridingonthecrestsofrises，lonelyandhighuponthegraycurtainofdriftingclouds，asifhehadbeenpacingalongtheveryedgeoftheuniverse。Helookedattheblackearth，attheearthmuteandpromising，atthemysteriousearthdoingitsworkoflifeindeath-likestillnessundertheveiledsorrowofthesky。Anditseemedtohimthattoamanworsethanchildlesstherewasnopromiseinthefertilityoffields，thatfromhimtheearthescaped，defiedhim，frownedathimliketheclouds，sombreandhurriedabovehishead。Havingtofacealonehisownfields，hefelttheinferiorityofmanwhopassesawaybeforetheclodthatremains。Musthegiveupthehopeofhavingbyhissideasonwhowouldlookattheturned-upsodswithamaster’seye？Amanthatwouldthinkashethought，thatwouldfeelashefelt；amanwhowouldbepartofhimself，andyetremaintotramplemasterfullyonthatearthwhenhewasgone？Hethoughtofsomedistantrelations，andfeltsavageenoughtocursethemaloud。They！Never！Heturnedhomewards，goingstraightattheroofofhisdwelling，visiblebetweentheenlacedskeletonsoftrees。
Asheswunghislegsoverthestileacawingflockofbirdssettledslowlyonthefield；droppeddownbehindhisback，noiselessandfluttering，likeflakesofsoot。
ThatdayMadameLevaillehadgoneearlyintheafternoontothehouseshehadnearKervanion。Shehadtopaysomeofthemenwhoworkedinhergranitequarrythere，andshewentingoodtimebecauseherlittlehousecontainedashopwheretheworkmencouldspendtheirwageswithoutthetroubleofgoingtotown。Thehousestoodaloneamongstrocks。Alaneofmudandstonesendedatthedoor。Thesea-windscomingashoreonStonecutter’spoint，freshfromthefierceturmoilofthewaves，howledviolentlyattheunmovedheapsofblackbouldersholdingupsteadilyshort-armed，highcrossesagainstthetremendousrushoftheinvisible。Inthesweepofgalesthesheltereddwellingstoodinacalmresonantanddisquieting，likethecalminthecentreofahurricane。Onstormynights，whenthetidewasout，thebayofFougere，fiftyfeetbelowthehouse，resembledanimmenseblackpit，fromwhichascendedmutteringsandsighsasifthesandsdowntherehadbeenaliveandcomplaining。Athightidethereturningwaterassaultedtheledgesofrockinshortrushes，endinginburstsoflividlightandcolumnsofspray，thatflewinland，stingingtodeaththegrassofpastures。
Thedarknesscamefromthehills，flowedoverthecoast，putouttheredfiresofsunset，andwentontoseawardpursuingtheretiringtide。Thewinddroppedwiththesun，leavingamaddenedseaandadevastatedsky。Theheavensabovethehouseseemedtobedrapedinblackrags，helduphereandtherebypinsoffire。MadameLevaille，forthiseveningtheservantofherownworkmen，triedtoinducethemtodepart。"Anoldwomanlikemeoughttobeinbedatthislatehour，"shegood-humouredlyrepeated。Thequarrymendrank，askedformore。Theyshoutedoverthetableasiftheyhadbeentalkingacrossafield。Atoneendfourofthemplayedcards，bangingthewoodwiththeirhardknuckles，andswearingateverylead。Onesatwithalostgaze，hummingabarofsomesong，whichherepeatedendlessly。Twoothers，inacorner，werequarrellingconfidentiallyandfiercelyoversomewoman，lookingcloseintooneanother’seyesasiftheyhadwantedtotearthemout，butspeakinginwhispersthatpromisedviolenceandmurderdiscreetly，inavenomoussibillationofsubduedwords。Theatmosphereintherewasthickenoughtoslicewithaknife。
Threecandlesburningaboutthelongroomglowedredanddulllikesparksexpiringinashes。
Theslightclickoftheironlatchwasatthatlatehourasunexpectedandstartlingasathunder-clap。MadameLevailleputdownabottlesheheldabovealiqueurglass；theplayersturnedtheirheads；thewhisperedquarrelceased；onlythesinger，afterdartingaglanceatthedoor，wentonhummingwithastolidface。Susanappearedinthedoorway，steppedin，flungthedoorto，andputherbackagainstit，saying，halfaloud——
"Mother！"
MadameLevaille，takingupthebottleagain，saidcalmly："Hereyouare，mygirl。Whatastateyouarein！"Theneckofthebottlerangontherimoftheglass，fortheoldwomanwasstartled，andtheideathatthefarmhadcaughtfirehadenteredherhead。Shecouldthinkofnoothercauseforherdaughter’sappearance。
Susan，soakedandmuddy，staredthewholelengthoftheroomtowardsthemenatthefarend。Hermotherasked——
"Whathashappened？Godguardusfrommisfortune！"
Susanmovedherlips。Nosoundcame。MadameLevaillesteppeduptoherdaughter，tookherbythearm，lookedintoherface。
"InGod’sname，"shesaid，shakily，"what’sthematter？Youhavebeenrollinginmud……Whydidyoucome？……Where’sJean？"
Themenhadallgotupandapproachedslowly，staringwithdullsurprise。MadameLevaillejerkedherdaughterawayfromthedoor，swungherrounduponaseatclosetothewall。Thensheturnedfiercelytothemen——
"Enoughofthis！Outyougo——youothers！Iclose。"
Oneofthemobserved，lookingdownatSusancollapsedontheseat：
"Sheis——onemaysay——halfdead。"
MadameLevailleflungthedooropen。
"Getout！March！"shecried，shakingnervously。
Theydroppedoutintothenight，laughingstupidly。Outside，thetwoLothariosbrokeoutintoloudshouts。Theotherstriedtosoothethem，alltalkingatonce。Thenoisewentawayupthelanewiththemen，whostaggeredtogetherinatightknot，remonstratingwithoneanotherfoolishly。
"Speak，Susan。Whatisit？Speak！"entreatedMadameLevaille，assoonasthedoorwasshut。
Susanpronouncedsomeincomprehensiblewords，glaringatthetable。
Theoldwomanclappedherhandsaboveherhead，letthemdrop，andstoodlookingatherdaughterwithdisconsolateeyes。Herhusbandhadbeen"derangedinhishead"forafewyearsbeforehedied，andnowshebegantosuspectherdaughterwasgoingmad。Sheasked，pressingly——
"DoesJeanknowwhereyouare？WhereisJean？"
"Heknows……heisdead。"
"What！"criedtheoldwoman。Shecameupnear，andpeeringatherdaughter，repeatedthreetimes："Whatdoyousay？Whatdoyousay？
Whatdoyousay？"
Susansatdry-eyedandstonybeforeMadameLevaille，whocontemplatedher，feelingastrangesenseofinexplicablehorrorcreepintothesilenceofthehouse。Shehadhardlyrealisedthenews，furtherthantounderstandthatshehadbeenbroughtinoneshortmomentfacetofacewithsomethingunexpectedandfinal。Itdidnotevenoccurtohertoaskforanyexplanation。Shethought：
accident——terribleaccident——bloodtothehead——felldownatrapdoorintheloft……Sheremainedthere，distractedandmute，blinkingheroldeyes。
Suddenly，Susansaid——
"Ihavekilledhim。"
Foramomentthemotherstoodstill，almostunbreathing，butwithcomposedface。Thenextsecondsheburstoutintoashout——
"Youmiserablemadwoman……theywillcutyourneck……"
Shefanciedthegendarmesenteringthehouse，sayingtoher："Wewantyourdaughter；giveherup："thegendarmeswiththesevere，hardfacesofmenonduty。Sheknewthebrigadierwell——anoldfriend，familiarandrespectful，sayingheartily，"Toyourgoodhealth，Madame！"beforeliftingtohislipsthesmallglassofcognac——outofthespecialbottleshekeptforfriends。Andnow！……Shewaslosingherhead。
Sherushedhereandthere，asiflookingforsomethingurgentlyneeded——gavethatup，stoodstockstillinthemiddleoftheroom，andscreamedatherdaughter——
"Why？Say！Say！Why？"
Theotherseemedtoleapoutofherstrangeapathy。
"DoyouthinkIammadeofstone？"sheshoutedback，stridingtowardshermother。
"No！It’simpossible……"saidMadameLevaille，inaconvincedtone。
"Yougoandsee，mother，"retortedSusan，lookingatherwithblazingeyes。"There’snomoneyinheaven——nojustice。No！……Ididnotknow……DoyouthinkIhavenoheart？DoyouthinkIhaveneverheardpeoplejeeringatme，pityingme，wonderingatme？Doyouknowhowsomeofthemwerecallingme？Themotherofidiots——thatwasmynickname！Andmychildrenneverwouldknowme，neverspeaktome。Theywouldknownothing；neithermen——norGod。Haven’tIprayed！ButtheMotherofGodherselfwouldnothearme。Amother！……Whoisaccursed——I，orthemanwhoisdead？Eh？Tellme。Itookcareofmyself。DoyouthinkIwoulddefytheangerofGodandhavemyhousefullofthosethings——thatareworsethananimalswhoknowthehandthatfeedsthem？Whoblasphemedinthenightattheverychurchdoor？
WasitI？……Ionlyweptandprayedformercy……andIfeelthecurseateverymomentoftheday——Iseeitroundmefrommorningtonight……I’vegottokeepthemalive——totakecareofmymisfortuneandshame。Andhewouldcome。IbeggedhimandHeavenformercy……
No！……Thenweshallsee……Hecamethisevening。Ithoughttomyself：’Ah！again！’……Ihadmylongscissors。Iheardhimshouting……Isawhimnear……Imust——mustI？……Thentake！……AndIstruckhiminthethroatabovethebreastbone……I
neverheardhimevensigh……Ilefthimstanding……Itwasaminuteago。HowdidIcomehere？"
MadameLevailleshivered。Awaveofcoldrandownherback，downherfatarmsunderhertightsleeves，madeherstampgentlywhereshestood。Quiversranoverthebroadcheeks，acrossthethinlips，ranamongstthewrinklesatthecornersofhersteadyoldeyes。Shestammered——
"Youwickedwoman——youdisgraceme。Butthere！Youalwaysresembledyourfather。Whatdoyouthinkwillbecomeofyou……intheotherworld？Inthis……Ohmisery！"
Shewasveryhotnow。Shefeltburninginside。Shewrungherperspiringhands——andsuddenly，startingingreathaste，begantolookforherbigshawlandumbrella，feverishly，neveronceglancingatherdaughter，whostoodinthemiddleoftheroomfollowingherwithagazedistractedandcold。
"Nothingworsethaninthis，"saidSusan。
Hermother，umbrellainhandandtrailingtheshawloverthefloor，groanedprofoundly。
"Imustgotothepriest，"sheburstoutpassionately。"Idonotknowwhetheryouevenspeakthetruth！Youareahorriblewoman。Theywillfindyouanywhere。Youmaystayhere——orgo。Thereisnoroomforyouinthisworld。"
Readynowtodepart，sheyetwanderedaimlesslyabouttheroom，puttingthebottlesontheshelf，tryingtofitwithtremblinghandsthecoversoncardboardboxes。Whenevertherealsenseofwhatshehadheardemergedforasecondfromthehazeofherthoughtsshewouldfancythatsomethinghadexplodedinherbrainwithout，unfortunately，burstingherheadtopieces——whichwouldhavebeenarelief。Sheblewthecandlesoutonebyonewithoutknowingit，andwashorriblystartledbythedarkness。Shefellonabenchandbegantowhimper。
Afterawhilesheceased，andsatlisteningtothebreathingofherdaughter，whomshecouldhardlysee，stillandupright，givingnoothersignoflife。Shewasbecomingoldrapidlyatlast，duringthoseminutes。Shespokeintonesunsteady，cutaboutbytherattleofteeth，likeoneshakenbyadeadlycoldfitofague。
"Iwishyouhaddiedlittle。Iwillneverdaretoshowmyoldheadinthesunshineagain。Thereareworsemisfortunesthanidiotchildren。I
wishyouhadbeenborntomesimple——likeyourown……"
Shesawthefigureofherdaughterpassbeforethefaintandlividclearnessofawindow。Thenitappearedinthedoorwayforasecond，andthedoorswungtowithaclang。MadameLevaille，asifawakenedbythenoisefromalongnightmare，rushedout。
"Susan！"sheshoutedfromthedoorstep。
Sheheardastonerollalongtimedownthedeclivityoftherockybeachabovethesands。Shesteppedforwardcautiously，onehandonthewallofthehouse，andpeereddownintothesmoothdarknessoftheemptybay。Onceagainshecried——
"Susan！Youwillkillyourselfthere。"
Thestonehadtakenitslastleapinthedark，andsheheardnothingnow。Asuddenthoughtseemedtostrangleher，andshecallednomore。
SheturnedherbackupontheblacksilenceofthepitandwentupthelanetowardsPloumar，stumblingalongwithsombredetermination，asifshehadstartedonadesperatejourneythatwouldlast，perhaps，totheendofherlife。Asullenandperiodicclamourofwavesrollingoverreefsfollowedherfarinlandbetweenthehighhedgesshelteringthegloomysolitudeofthefields。
Susanhadrunout，swervingsharptotheleftatthedoor，andontheedgeoftheslopecroucheddownbehindaboulder。Adislodgedstonewentondownwards，rattlingasitleaped。WhenMadameLevaillecalledout，Susancouldhave，bystretchingherhand，touchedhermother’sskirt，hadshehadthecouragetomovealimb。Shesawtheoldwomangoaway，andsheremainedstill，closinghereyesandpressinghersidetothehardandruggedsurfaceoftherock。Afterawhileafamiliarfacewithfixedeyesandanopenmouthbecamevisibleintheintenseobscurityamongsttheboulders。Sheutteredalowcryandstoodup。Thefacevanished，leavinghertogaspandshiveraloneinthewildernessofstoneheaps。Butassoonasshehadcroucheddownagaintorest，withherheadagainsttherock，thefacereturned，cameverynear，appearedeagertofinishthespeechthathadbeencutshortbydeath，onlyamomentago。Shescrambledquicklytoherfeetandsaid："Goaway，orIwilldoitagain。"Thethingwavered，swungtotheright，totheleft。Shemovedthiswayandthat，steppedback，fanciedherselfscreamingatit，andwasappalledbytheunbrokenstillnessofthenight。Shetotteredonthebrink，feltthesteepdeclivityunderherfeet，andrusheddownblindlytosaveherselffromaheadlongfall。Theshingleseemedtowakeup；thepebblesbegantorollbeforeher，pursuedherfromabove，raceddownwithheronbothsides，rollingpastwithanincreasingclatter。Inthepeaceofthenightthenoisegrew，deepeningtoarumour，continuousandviolent，asifthewholesemicircleofthestonybeachhadstartedtotumbledownintothebay。Susan’sfeethardlytouchedtheslopethatseemedtorundownwithher。Atthebottomshestumbled，shotforward，throwingherarmsout，andfellheavily。Shejumpedupatonceandturnedswiftlytolookback，herclenchedhandsfullofsandshehadclutchedinherfall。Thefacewasthere，keepingitsdistance，visibleinitsownsheenthatmadeapalestaininthenight。Sheshouted，"Goaway！"——sheshoutedatitwithpain，withfear，withalltherageofthatuselessstabthatcouldnotkeephimquiet，keephimoutofhersight。Whatdidhewantnow？Hewasdead。Deadmenhavenochildren。Wouldheneverleaveheralone？Sheshriekedatit——wavedheroutstretchedhands。Sheseemedtofeelthebreathofpartedlips，and，withalongcryofdiscouragement，fledacrossthelevelbottomofthebay。
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