"About?" repeated Monsieur Cardonnet with a frown. "What sort of a word is that? Well, well," he added, glancing at him with a penetrating, mocking expression, "I see that you are a little confused from being perched up in a tree. I have made the calculation in my head, and I regret that I am obliged to tell you that it was done before you had sharpened your pencil. There'll be eighty-one thousand five hundred francs to be laid out all over again." "That's a good deal," said Emile, striving to conceal his impatience beneath a serious air. "I wouldn't have believed that this little water-course could have so much force," observed Monsieur Cardonnet, as calmly as if he were making an expert estimate of a loss in which he was not interested; "but it won't take long to repair. Holà! you fellows.--There's a beam caught between two of the large wheels, and there's just enough water left to keep it banging. Take it out of there at once or my wheels will be broken." They made haste to obey, but the task was more difficult than it seemed. All the weight of the machinery seemed to rest on that obstacle, which bade fair not to be the first to give way. Several men rubbed the skin off their hands to no purpose. "Look out and not hurt yourselves!" cried Emile instinctively, taking a hand himself to lessen their difficulty. But Monsieur Cardonnet shouted in his turn: "Pull there! push!--Bah! your arms are made of flax!" The perspiration was rolling down their faces, but they made no headway. "Get away from there, all of you," suddenly exclaimed a voice that Emile instantly recognized, "and let me try it--I prefer to do it alone." And Jean, armed with a crow-bar, quickly pried out a large stone which no one had noticed. Then, with wonderful dexterity, he gave the beam a powerful push. "Gently, deuce take it!" cried Monsieur Cardonnet, "you'll smash everything." "If I smash anything, I'll pay for it," retorted the peasant, with playful bluntness. "Now, two of you boys come here. All together now! Courage, little Pierre, that's good!--Another bit, my old Guillaume!--Oh! the clever fellows!--Softly! softly! let me take my foot away, or you'll crush it for me, son of the devil!--Now she goes!--push--don't be afraid--I have it!" And in less than two minutes Jean, whose presence and voice seemed to electrify the other workmen, relieved the machinery of the extraneous object which endangered it. "Come with me, Jean," said Monsieur Cardonnet, thereupon. "What for?" rejoined the peasant. "I have done enough of that sort of work for to-day, monsieur." "That is why I want you to come and drink a glass of my best wine. Come, I say, I have something to say to you. My son, go and tell your mother to put some Malaga on my table." "Your son?" said Jean, looking at Emile with some signs of emotion. "If he is your son, I will go with you, for he seems to me like a good fellow."