The Devils Pool | Page 9

into our accounts, and that might make
trouble between you and my son, when you don't have me to keep the
peace between you and tell you what is coming to each of you."
"May you live many years, Père Maurice! But don't you worry about
what will happen when you are gone; I shall never dispute with your
son. I trust Jacques as I trust myself, and as I have no property of my

own, as everything that can possibly come to me, comes to me as your
daughter's husband and belongs to our children, I can be easy in my
mind and so can you; Jacques would never try to defraud his sister's
children for his own, as he loves them almost equally."
"You are right in that, Germain. Jacques is a good son, a good brother,
and a man who loves the truth. But Jacques may die before you, before
your children are grown up, and one must always have a care not to
leave minors without a head to give them good advice and arrange their
differences. Otherwise the lawyers interfere, set them at odds with each
other, and make them eat everything up in lawsuits. So we ought not to
think of bringing another person into our house, man or woman,
without saying to ourselves that that person may some day have to
direct the conduct and manage the business of thirty or more children,
grandchildren, sons-in-law, and daughters-in-law. No one knows how
much a family may grow, and when the hive is too full and the time has
come to swarm, every one thinks about carrying off his honey. When I
took you for my son-in-law, although my daughter was rich and you
poor, I never reproached her for choosing you. I saw you were a good
worker, and I knew well that the best sort of riches for country people
like us is a good pair of arms and a heart like yours. When a man brings
those things into a family, he brings enough. But it's different with a
woman: her work in the house is to keep, not to get. Besides, now that
you are a father and are looking for a wife, you must remember that
your new children, having no sort of claim on the inheritance of your
first wife's children, would be left in want if you should die, unless
your wife had some property of her own. And then, it would cost
something to feed the children you are going to add to our little colony.
If that should fall on us alone, we would take care of them, never fear,
and without complaining; but everybody's comfort would be
diminished, and the first children would have to take their share of the
privations. When families increase beyond measure, and their means do
not increase in proportion, then want comes, however bravely we may
struggle against it. This is all I have to say, Germain; think it over, and
try to make yourself agreeable to Widow Guérin; for her good
management and her crowns will bring us aid for the present and peace
of mind for the future."

"Very good, father. I will try to like her and make her like me."
"To do that you must go to see her."
"At her home? At Fourche? That's a long way, isn't it? and we don't
have much time to run about at this season."
"When a marriage for love is on the carpet, you must expect to waste
time; but when it's a marriage of convenience between two people who
have no whims and who know what they want, it's soon arranged.
Tomorrow will be Saturday; you can shorten your day's ploughing a bit
and start about two o'clock, after dinner; you will be at Fourche by
night; there's a good moon just now, the roads are excellent, and it isn't
more than three leagues. Fourche is near Magnier. Besides, you can
take the mare."
"I should rather go afoot in this cool weather."
"True, but the mare's a fine beast, and a suitor makes a better
appearance if he comes well mounted. You must wear your new clothes
and carry a nice present of game to Père Léonard. You will say that you
come with a message from me, you will talk with him, you will pass
the Sunday with his daughter, and you will return with a yes or a no on
Monday morning."
"Very good," replied Germain calmly, and yet he was not altogether
calm.
Germain had always lived a virtuous life, as hard-working peasants do.
Married at twenty, he had loved but one woman in his life, and since he
had become a widower, although he was naturally impulsive and
vivacious, he had never laughed and