The Peasant and the Prince | Page 8

trade that
would give them a chance of a better living than their father had before
them, and take them a little from under the Count's hand, for that is

very heavy upon us. If my boys have nothing better before them than to
divide my poor field, and live as peasants under the Count, I don't
know that I should cry to lay them in their graves before I lie down
myself."
"And cannot you apprentice one of them, at least?" inquired Jerome.
"How can I? Besides the transaction between the artisan and me, there
is a great sum to be paid to the king upon the indenture, and another
and a larger before the lad begins his trade. What can a poor peasant do
with his boys but make them poorer peasants than himself, if that is
possible? But it is not possible. Is there coarser woollen than this that I
wear? Is there a tougher leather than my belt is made of? And is there
anything for the feet poorer than our wooden clogs? And as for food,
we are as far from health and strength on the one hand, as we are from
the grave on the other--just half-way. So my boys will be poor peasants,
like their father, if they can make his field yield double; and if not, they
will be in their graves."
The boys trembled, and would have cried if they dared. Their mother
wept outright: and the good-natured Jerome could only shake his head
and sigh, and mutter that he feared that was the plight of millions more
in France. His smoking comrade again gave out, between two puffs,
that before these boys were men, everything might be changed, and the
nobles might chance to find their mouths stuffed with boiled nettles, for
once, just to show what they were like. This speech made the boys
laugh. Their mother wiped her eyes, and gave notice that supper, such
as it was, was ready. She knew there was nothing that could satisfy
three men, if they happened to be very hungry; she could only say that
here was all she had.
Her guests answered her with a civil nod, and sat down at her board
with alacrity, saying that the fowls looked savoury, and the bowl of
milk good for a thirsty man after a march. Some of their comrades in
the village had wine, they knew: but nothing was said about it; for the
soldiers' pockets were empty, like those of their host.
It was growing dark. Randolphe made what blaze he could by throwing

light wood upon the fire. By law, he was bound to furnish candles to
his guests; and some soldiers whom he had entertained had required
this of him; but his present guests felt no disposition to do so, after
what they had heard. They cut up their fowls by firelight: then, before
beginning to eat, they exchanged glances, the consequence of which
was that the boys were called, made to sit down, each between two
soldiers, and treated with some mouthfuls of savoury fowl. Can it be
wondered at that they forgot, till afterwards, that they were eating poor
Marie's fowls, which they had hoped to see pecking about in the wood?
The lively talk that was going on round the table was soon interrupted
by a loud rap upon the door, made by a heavy staff, such as the Count's
followers usually carried when they went on messages. Randolphe was
not fond of receiving visits from the Count's people, and he now
desired Robin to go to the door, and see what was wanted. The message
was heard by those within, for the bearer shouted it aloud from door to
door of all the peasantry of the Count's estate. Randolphe and another
were wanted to-night, to flog the ponds.
"I will go myself, because I must," observed Randolphe: "but how to
find another I don't know, so I shall just let that alone."
"They won't forgive you for not taking a second," remarked his wife.
"You will have to pay dear, one way or another: and yet I can't ask you
to take one of the boys.--It is bad enough for you, a poor rest between
two days' labour, to stand flogging the ponds till field time in the
morning."
"Have you often to do this night-work, neighbour?" asked Jerome.
"Only when the family are at the chateau. They are so used to live in
Paris, away from country noises, that they cannot sleep in the country
for the noise of the frogs, unless the ponds are flogged; so, when they
come, we have that work to do."
"Cannot you poison the frogs?" asked Jerome.
"O, yes, father!" cried Marc. "You poison rats: cannot you poison the

frogs,