old age were crushed beneath the fierceness of a savage greed,—­greed for the property of others now their own by long abuse.  All eyes were savage, all gestures menacing; but every one kept silence in presence of the count, the field-keeper, and the bailiff.  At this moment all classes were represented,—­the great land-owners, the farmers, the working men, the paupers; the social question was defined to the eye; hunger had convoked the actors in the scene.  The sun threw into relief the hard and hollow features of those faces; it burned the bare feet dusty with the soil; children were present with no clothing but a torn blouse, their blond hair tangled with straw and chips; some women brought their babes just able to walk, and left them rolling in the furrows.

The gloomy scene was harrowing to the old soldier, whose heart was kind, and he said to Michaud:  “It pains me to see it.  One must know the importance of these measures to be able to insist upon them.”

“If every land-owner followed your example, lived on his property, and did the good that you and yours are doing, general, there would be, I won’t say no poor, for they are always with us, but no poor man who could not live by his labor.”

“The mayors of Conches, Cerneux, and Soulanges have sent us all their paupers,” said Groison, who had now looked at the certificates; “they had no right to do so.”

“No, but our people will go to their districts,” said the general.  “For the time being we have done enough by preventing the gleaning before the sheaves were taken away; we had better go step by step,” he added, turning to leave the field.

“Did you hear him?” said Mother Tonsard to the old Bonnebault woman, for the general’s last words were said in a rather louder tone than the rest, and reached the ears of the two old women who were posted in the road which led beside the field.

“Yes, yes! we haven’t got to the end yet,—­a tooth to-day and to-morrow an ear; if they could find a sauce for our livers they’d eat ’em as they do a calf’s!” said old Bonnebault, whose threatening face was turned in profile to the general as he passed her, though in the twinkling of an eye she changed its expression to one of hypocritical softness and submission as she hastened to make him a profound curtsey.

“So you are gleaning, are you, though my wife helps you to earn so much money?”

“Hey! my dear gentleman, may God preserve you in good health! but, don’t you see, my grandson squanders all I earn, and I’m forced to scratch up a little wheat to get bread in the winter,—­yes, yes, I glean just a bit; it all helps.”

The gleaning proved of little profit to the gleaners.  The farmers and tenant-farmers, finding themselves backed up, took care that their wheat was well reaped, and superintended the making of the sheaves and their safe removal, so that little or none of the pillage of former years could take place.