"And when I think that you were nearly carried away yourself by that hateful stream, which I detest now! O my child! I deplore the day that your father conceived the idea of settling here. We were overflowed more than once during the winter, and he had to begin his work all over again. This affects him and injures him more than he is willing to admit. His temper is becoming soured, and his health will suffer in the end. And all on account of this river!" "But don't you think that this new building and this damp air are bad for your own health, mother?" "I don't know at all, my child. I consoled myself for everything with my flowers and the hope of seeing you again. But here you are, and you have come to a bog, a sewer, when I had looked forward to seeing you walk on a carpet of flowers and turf as you smoked your cigar and read! Oh! this cursed river!" When night came, Emile discovered that the day had seemed immeasurably long to him, hearing the river cursed by everybody and in all imaginable tones. His father alone continued to say that it was nothing at all, and that six feet more of bank would bring the brook to its senses once for all; but his pale face and his clenched teeth, when he spoke, denoted an internal passion more painful to see than all the ejaculations of the others to hear. The dinner was dull and cold. Monsieur Cardonnet was interrupted and left the table a score of times to give orders; and as Madame Cardonnet treated him with boundless respect, the dishes were carried out to be kept hot and brought back overdone: he declared that they were detestable; his wife turned pale and red in turn, went herself to the kitchen, took innumerable pains, being torn between the desire to wait for her husband and the desire not to keep her son waiting, who decided that dinner was a very bad and very tedious meal in that wealthy household. They left the table so late, and the fords were still so dangerous in the darkness, that Emile was compelled to abandon the visit to Châteaubrun which he had planned. He had described his reception there. "Oh! I would go and call there to thank them!" cried Madame Cardonnet. But her husband added: "You may as well do nothing of the kind. I don't care to have you draw me into the society of that old drunkard, who lives on equal terms with the peasants, and who would get tipsy in my kitchen with my workmen." "His daughter is a charming girl," said Madame Cardonnet timidly. "His daughter!" retorted the master scornfully. "What daughter! the one he had by his maidservant?" "He has acknowledged her." "He did well, for old Janille would have been sadly embarrassed to acknowledge the child's father! Whether she's charming or not, I hope that Emile won't take such a journey to-night. It's a dark night and the roads are in bad condition."