Thus, even among the country folks, Mathieu found a small family the rule.  Among the causes were the fear of having to split up an inheritance, the desire to rise in the social system, the disgust of manual toil, and the thirst for the luxuries of town life.  Since the soil was becoming bankrupt, why indeed continue tilling it, when one knew that one would never grow rich by doing so?  Mathieu was on the point of explaining these things to his wife, but he hesitated, and then simply said:  “Lepailleur does wrong to complain; he has two cows and a horse, and when there is urgent work he can take an assistant.  We, this morning, had just thirty sous belonging to us, and we own no mill, no scrap of land.  For my part I think his mill superb; I envy him every time I cross this bridge.  Just fancy! we two being the millers—­why, we should be very rich and very happy!”

This made them both laugh, and for another moment they remained seated there, watching the dark massive mill beside the Yeuse.  Between the willows and poplars on both banks the little river flowed on peacefully, scarce murmuring as it coursed among the water plants which made it ripple.  Then, amid a clump of oaks, appeared the big shed sheltering the wheel, and the other buildings garlanded with ivy, honeysuckle, and creepers, the whole forming a spot of romantic prettiness.  And at night, especially when the mill slept, without a light at any of its windows, there was nothing of more dreamy, more gentle charm.

“Why!” remarked Mathieu, lowering his voice, “there is somebody under the willows, beside the water.  I heard a slight noise.”

“Yes, I know,” replied Marianne with tender gayety.  “It must be the young couple who settled themselves in the little house yonder a fortnight ago.  You know whom I mean—­Madame Angelin, that schoolmate of Constance’s.”

The Angelins, who had become their neighbors, interested the Froments.  The wife was of the same age as Marianne, tall, dark, with fine hair and fine eyes, radiant with continual joy, and fond of pleasure.  And the husband was of the same age as Mathieu, a handsome fellow, very much in love, with moustaches waving in the wind, and the joyous spirits of a musketeer.  They had married with sudden passion for one another, having between them an income of some ten thousand francs a year, which the husband, a fan painter with a pretty talent, might have doubled had it not been for the spirit of amorous idleness into which his marriage had thrown him.  And that spring-time they had sought a refuge in that desert of Janville, that they might love freely, passionately, in the midst of nature.  They were always to be met, holding each other by the waist, on the secluded paths in the woods; and at night they loved to stroll across the fields, beside the hedges, along the shady banks of the Yeuse, delighted when they could linger till very late near the murmuring water, in the thick shade of the willows.