Fruitfulness - Fecondite | Page 3

ENGLAND: April, 1900.

FRUITFULNESS

I
THAT morning, in the little pavilion of Chantebled, on the verge of the
woods, where they had now been installed for nearly a month, Mathieu
was making all haste in order that he might catch the seven-o'clock
train which every day conveyed him from Janville to Paris. It was
already half-past six, and there were fully two thousand paces from the
pavilion to Janville. Afterwards came a railway journey of
three-quarters of an hour, and another journey of at least equal duration
through Paris, from the Northern Railway terminus to the Boulevard de
Grenelle. He seldom reached his office at the factory before half-past
eight o'clock.
He had just kissed the children. Fortunately they were asleep; otherwise
they would have linked their arms about his neck, laughed and kissed
him, being ever unwilling to let him go. And as he hastily returned to
the principal bedroom, he found his wife, Marianne, in bed there, but
awake and sitting up. She had risen a moment before in order to pull

back a curtain, and all the glow of that radiant May morning swept in,
throwing a flood of gay sunshine over the fresh and healthy beauty of
her four-and-twenty years. He, who was three years the elder,
positively adored her.
"You know, my darling," said he, "I must make haste, for I fear I may
miss the train--and so manage as well as you can. You still have thirty
sous left, haven't you?"
She began to laugh, looking charming with her bare arms and her
loose-flowing dark hair. The ever-recurring pecuniary worries of the
household left her brave and joyous. Yet she had been married at
seventeen, her husband at twenty, and they already had to provide for
four children.
"Oh! we shall be all right," said she. "It's the end of the month to-day,
and you'll receive your money to-night. I'll settle our little debts at
Janville to-morrow. There are only the Lepailleurs, who worry me with
their bill for milk and eggs, for they always look as if they fancied one
meant to rob them. But with thirty sous, my dear! why, we shall have
quite a high time of it!"
She was still laughing as she held out her firm white arms for the
customary morning good-by.
"Run off, since you are in a hurry. I will go to meet you at the little
bridge to-night."
"No, no, I insist on your going to bed! You know very well that even if
I catch the quarter-to-eleven-o'clock train, I cannot reach Janville
before half-past eleven. Ah! what a day I have before me! I had to
promise the Moranges that I would take dejeuner with them; and this
evening Beauchene is entertaining a customer--a business dinner,
which I'm obliged to attend. So go to bed, and have a good sleep while
you are waiting for me."
She gently nodded, but would give no positive promise. "Don't forget
to call on the landlord," she added, "to tell him that the rain comes into
the children's bedroom. It's not right that we should be soaked here as if
we were on the high-way, even if those millionnaires, the Seguins du
Hordel, do let us have this place for merely six hundred francs a year."
"Ah, yes! I should have forgotten that. I will call on them, I promise
you."
Then Mathieu took her in his arms, and there was no ending to their

leave-taking. He still lingered. She had begun to laugh again, while
giving him many a kiss in return for his own. There was all the love of
bounding health between them, the joy that springs from the most
perfect union, as when man and wife are but one both in flesh and in
soul.
"Run off, run off, darling! Remember to tell Constance that, before she
goes into the country, she ought to run down here some Sunday with
Maurice."
"Yes, yes, I will tell her--till to-night, darling."
But he came back once more, caught her in a tight embrace, and
pressed to her lips a long, loving kiss, which she returned with her
whole heart. And then he hurried away.
He usually took an omnibus on his arrival at the Northern Railway
terminus. But on the days when only thirty sous remained at home he
bravely went through Paris on foot. It was, too, a very fine walk by way
of the Rue la Fayette, the Opera-house, the Boulevards, the Rue Royale,
and then, after the Place de la Concorde, the Cours la Reine, the Alma
bridge, and the Quai d'Orsay.
Beauchene's works were at the very end of the Quai d'Orsay, between
the Rue de la Federation and the Boulevard de Grenelle. There was
hereabouts a large square plot, at one