mind, a clearer, a conqueror, who should drain those lands and rid them of superfluous water by means of a few canals which might easily be dug!  Why, then a huge stretch of land would be reclaimed, handed over to cultivation, and wheat would grow there with extraordinary vigor.  But that is not all.  There is the expanse before us, those gentle slopes from Janville to Vieux-Bourg, that is another five hundred acres, which are left almost uncultivated on account of their dryness, the stony poverty of their soil.  So it is all very simple.  One would merely have to take the sources up yonder, the waters, now stagnant, and carry them across those sterile slopes, which, when irrigated, would gradually develop extraordinary fertility.  I have seen everything, I have studied everything.  I feel that there are at least twelve hundred acres of land which a bold creator might turn into a most productive estate.  Yonder lies a whole kingdom of corn, a whole new world to be created by labor, with the help of the beneficent waters and our father the sun, the source of eternal life.”

Marianne gazed at him and admired him as he stood there quivering, pondering over all that he evoked from his dream.  But she was frightened by the vastness of such hopes, and could not restrain a cry of disquietude and prudence.

“No, no, that is too much; you desire the impossible.  How can you think that we shall ever possess so much—­that our fortune will spread over the entire region?  Think of the capital, the arms that would be needed for such a conquest!”

For a moment Mathieu remained silent on thus suddenly being brought back to reality.  Then with his affectionate, sensible air, he began to laugh.  “You are right; I have been dreaming and talking wildly,” he replied.  “I am not yet so ambitious as to wish to be King of Chantebled.  But there is truth in what I have said to you; and, besides, what harm can there be in dreaming of great plans to give oneself faith and courage?  Meantime I intend to try cultivating just a few acres, which Seguin will no doubt sell me cheaply enough, together with the little pavilion in which we live.  I know that the unproductiveness of the estate weighs on him.  And, later on, we shall see if the earth is disposed to love us and come to us as we go to her.  Ah well, my dear, give that little glutton plenty of life, and you, my darlings, eat and drink and grow in strength, for the earth belongs to those who are healthy and numerous.”

Blaise and Denis made answer by taking some fresh slices of bread-and-butter, while Rose drained the mug of wine and water which Ambroise handed her.  And Marianne sat there like the symbol of blossoming Fruitfulness, the source of vigor and conquest, while Gervais heartily nursed on.  He pulled so hard, indeed, that one could hear the sound of his lips.  It was like the faint noise which attends the rise of a spring—­a slender rill of milk that is to swell and become a river.  Around her the