At the same time, if Mathieu had renounced the actual exercise of authority, he none the less remained the creator, the oracle who was consulted, listened to, and obeyed.  He dwelt with Marianne in the old shooting-box which had been transformed and enlarged into a very comfortable house.  Here they lived like the founders of a dynasty who had retired in full glory, setting their only delight in beholding around them the development and expansion of their race, the birth and growth of their children’s children.  Leaving Claire and Gervais on one side, there were as yet only Denis and Ambroise—­the first to wing their flight abroad—­engaged in building up their fortunes in Paris.  The three girls, Louise, Madeleine, and Marguerite, who would soon be old enough to marry, still dwelt in the happy home beside their parents, as well as the three youngest boys, Gregoire, the free lance, Nicolas, the most stubborn and determined of the brood, and Benjamin, who was of a dreamy nature.  All these finished growing up at the edge of the nest, so to say, with the window of life open before them, ready for the day when they likewise would take wing.

With them dwelt Charlotte, Blaise’s widow, and her two children, Berthe and Guillaume, the three of them occupying an upper floor of the house where the mother had installed her studio.  She was becoming rich since her little share in the factory profits, stipulated by Denis, had been increasing year by year; but nevertheless, she continued working for her dealer in miniatures.  This work brought her pocket-money, she gayly said, and would enable her to make her children a present whenever they might marry.  There was, indeed, already some thought of Berthe marrying; and assuredly she would be the first of Mathieu and Marianne’s grandchildren to enter into the state of matrimony.  They smiled softly at the idea of becoming great-grandparents before very long perhaps.

After the lapse of four years, Gregoire, first of the younger children, flew away.  There was a great deal of trouble, quite a little drama in connection with the affair, which Mathieu and Marianne had for some time been anticipating.  Gregoire was anything but reasonable.  Short, but robust, with a pert face in which glittered the brightest of eyes, he had always been the turbulent member of the family, the one who caused the most anxiety.  His childhood had been spent in playing truant in the woods of Janville, and he had afterwards made a mere pretence of studying in Paris, returning home full of health and spirits, but unable or unwilling to make up his mind with respect to any particular trade or profession.  Already four-and-twenty, he knew little more than how to shoot and fish, and trot about the country on horseback.  He was certainly not more stupid or less active than another, but he seemed bent on living and amusing himself according to his fancy.  The worst was that for some months past all the gossips of Janville had been relating that he had renewed his former boyish friendship with Therese Lepailleur, the miller’s daughter, and that they were to be met of an evening in shady nooks under the pollard-willows by the Yeuse.