“But to tell such things to ignorant people,” exclaimed Mother Bunch, “is likely to excite them to fatal actions.”

“That is just what the abbe wants.”

“What do you tell me?”

“The people of the environs, still more excited, no doubt by other agitators, show themselves hostile to the workmen of our factory.  Their hatred, or at least their envy, has been turned to account.  Seeing us live all together, well lodged, well warmed, and comfortably clad, active, gay, and laborious, their jealousy has been embittered by the sermons, and by the secret manoeuvres of some depraved characters, who are known to be bad workmen, in the employment of M. Tripeaud, our opposition.  All this excitement is beginning to bear fruit; there have been already two or three fights between us and our neighbors.  It was in one of these skirmishes that I received a blow with a stone on my head.”

“Is it not serious, Agricola?—­are you quite sure?” said Mother Bunch, anxiously.

“It is nothing at all, I tell you.  But the enemies of M. Hardy have not confined themselves to preaching.  They have brought into play something far more dangerous.”

“What is that?”

“I, and nearly all my comrades, did our part in the three Revolutionary days of July; but we are not eager at present, for good reasons, to take up arms again.  That is not everybody’s opinion; well, we do not blame others, but we have our own ideas; and Father Simon, who is as brave as his son, and as good a patriot as any one, approves and directs us.  Now, for some days past, we find all about the factory, in the garden, in the courts, printed papers to this effect:  ’You are selfish cowards; because chance has given you a good master, you remain indifferent to the misfortunes of your brothers, and to the means of freeing them; material comforts have enervated your hearts.’”

“Dear me, Agricola! what frightful perseverance in wickedness!”

“Yes! and unfortunately these devices have their effect on some of our younger mates.  As the appeal was, after all, to proud and generous sentiments, it has had some influence.  Already, seeds of division have shown themselves in our workshops, where, before, all were united as brothers.  A secret agitation now reigns there.  Cold suspicion takes the place, with some, of our accustomed cordiality.  Now, if I tell you that I am nearly sure these printed papers, thrown over the walls of our factory, to raise these little sparks of discord amongst us, have been scattered about by the emissaries of this same preaching abbe—­would it not seem from all this, taken in conjunction with what happened this morning to the young lady, that M. Hardy has of late numerous enemies?”

“Like you, I think it very fearful, Agricola,” said the girl; “and it is so serious, that M. Hardy alone can take a proper decision on the subject.  As for what happened this morning to the young lady, it appears to me, that, immediately on M. Hardy’s return, you should ask for an interview with him, and, however delicate such a communication may be, tell him all that passed.”