So saying, he gave him a gay, meaning glance. They had doubtless planned
some little spree together, like husbands bent on availing themselves to
the utmost of the convenient pretext of a day's shooting. Then, having
drunk some wine and feeling warmed and livelier, they began to express
astonishment at their surroundings.
"It stupefies me, my dear fellow," declared Beauchêne, "that you can live
in this awful solitude in the depth of winter. It is enough to kill
anybody. I am all in favor of work, you know; but, dash it! one must have
some amusement too."
"But we do amuse ourselves," said Mathieu, waving his hand round that
rustic kitchen in which centred all their pleasant family life.
The two visitors followed his gesture, and gazed in amazement at the
walls covered with utensils, at the rough furniture, and at the table on
which the children were still building their village after offering their
cheeks to be kissed. No doubt they were unable to understand what
pleasure there could possibly be there, for, suppressing a jeering laugh,
they shook their heads. To them it was really an extraordinary life, a
life of most singular taste.
"Come and see my little Gervais," said Marianne softly. "He is asleep;
mind, you must not wake him."
For politeness' sake they both bent over the cradle, and expressed
surprise at finding a child but ten months old so big. He was very good,
too. Only, as soon as he should wake, he would no doubt deafen everybody.
And then, too, if a fine child like that sufficed to make life happy, how
many people must be guilty of spoiling their lives! The visitors came
back to the fireside, anxious only to be gone now that they felt
enlivened.
"So it's understood," said Mathieu, "you won't stay to dinner with us?"
"Oh, no, indeed!" they exclaimed in one breath.
Then, to attenuate the discourtesy of such a cry, Beauchêne began to
jest, and accepted the invitation for a later date when the warm weather
should have arrived.
"On my word of honor, we have business in Paris," he declared. "But I
promise you that when it's fine we will all come and spend a day
here--yes, with our wives and children. And you will then show us your
work, and we shall see if you have succeeded. So good-by! All my good
wishes, my dear fellow! _Au revoir_, cousin! _Au revoir_, children; be
good!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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