dilapidated condition of the old shooting-box. But the doctor,
after listening with a smile, broke in:
"Mme. Seguin is a patient of mine. At the time when her last child was
born I advised her to stay at that pavilion. The atmosphere is
wholesome, and children ought to spring up there like couch-grass."
Thereupon, with a sonorous laugh, Beauchene began to jest in his
habitual way, remarking that if the doctor were correct there would
probably be no end to Mathieu's progeny, numerous as it already was.
But this elicited an angry protest from Constance, who on the subject of
children held the same views as her husband himself professed in his
more serious moments.
Mathieu thoroughly understood what they both meant. They regarded
him and his wife with derisive pity, tinged with anger.
The advent of the young couple's last child, little Rose, had already
increased their expenses to such a point that they had been obliged to
seek refuge in the country, in a mere pauper's hovel. And yet, in spite
of Beauchene's sneers and Constance's angry remarks, Mathieu
outwardly remained very calm. Constance and Marianne had never
been able to agree; they differed too much in all respects; and for his
part he laughed off every attack, unwilling as he was to let anger master
him, lest a rupture should ensue.
But Beauchene waxed passionate on the subject. That question of the
birth-rate and the present-day falling off in population was one which
he thought he had completely mastered, and on which he held forth at
length authoritatively. He began by challenging the impartiality of
Boutan, whom he knew to be a fervent partisan of large families. He
made merry with him, declaring that no medical man could possibly
have a disinterested opinion on the subject. Then he brought out all that
he vaguely knew of Malthusianism, the geometrical increase of births,
and the arithmetical increase of food-substances, the earth becoming so
populous as to be reduced to a state of famine within two centuries. It
was the poor's own fault, said he, if they led a life of starvation; they
had only to limit themselves to as many children as they could provide
for. The rich were falsely accused of social wrong-doing; they were by
no means responsible for poverty. Indeed, they were the only
reasonable people; they alone, by limiting their families, acted as good
citizens should act. And he became quite triumphant, repeating that he
knew of no cause for self-reproach, and that his ever-growing fortune
left him with an easy conscience. It was so much the worse for the poor,
if they were bent on remaining poor. In vain did the doctor urge that the
Malthusian theories were shattered, that the calculations had been
based on a possible, not a real, increase of population; in vain too did
he prove that the present-day economic crisis, the evil distribution of
wealth under the capitalist system, was the one hateful cause of poverty,
and that whenever labor should be justly apportioned among one and
all the fruitful earth would easily provide sustenance for happy men ten
times more numerous than they are now. The other refused to listen to
anything, took refuge in his egotism, declared that all those matters
were no concern of his, that he felt no remorse at being rich, and that
those who wished to become rich had, in the main, simply to do as he
had done.
"Then, logically, this is the end of France, eh?" Boutan remarked
maliciously. "The number of births ever increases in Germany, Russia,
and elsewhere, while it decreases in a terrible way among us.
Numerically the rank we occupy in Europe is already very inferior to
what it formerly was; and yet number means power more than ever
nowadays. It has been calculated that an average of four children per
family is necessary in order that population may increase and the
strength of a nation be maintained. You have but one child; you are a
bad patriot."
At this Beauchene flew into a tantrum, quite beside himself, and gasped:
"I a bad patriot! I, who kill myself with hard work! I, who even export
French machinery! . . . Yes, certainly I see families, acquaintances
around me who may well allow themselves four children; and I grant
that they deserve censure when they have no families. But as for me,
my dear doctor, it is impossible. You know very well that in my
position I absolutely can't."
Then, for the hundredth time, he gave his reasons, relating how the
works had narrowly escaped being cut into pieces, annihilated, simply
because he had unfortunately been burdened with a sister. Seraphine
had behaved abominably. There had been first her dowry; next her
demands for the division of the property
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