"I have had enough of this sort of life; it is time to end it, and that we should know a little whether it is not the man who makes the harvest that is to eat the corn." "Oh!" cried Marianne, "I was sure you had been drinking." "Yes, I have, but that's neither here nor there. I tell you that at the factory we've had enough of sweating, and have revolted at last." "Jacques," cried Marianne, trembling, "has any injustice been done to you?" "There's nothing else but injustice in this world. For whom do we slave? For whom do we toil the life out of us? For the rich and idle! I tell you, you are not going to pay for anything more with my money; I shall want it for myself, for I am not going back to work again." He rose, snatched up his cap and planted it on his head. "Where are you going, Jacques?" [Illustration: "WHERE ARE YOU GOING, JACQUES?"] "To join the comrades who are waiting for me. If I don't come back to-night, you'll know." Marianne brushed away a tear which was running down her cheek, and tried to put a cheerful face on the matter. The children were there, and she did not want them to comprehend that anything serious was occurring. Perhaps, too--who could tell?--there might really be nothing in it; men are so foolish when they have been drinking. "He has been put out in some way," she said to herself; "it has mounted to his head, and he is going to give way a little this evening, to drown his irritation, which will be gone to-morrow." She put her children to bed, cleared away the dinner things, and resumed her sewing. But, in spite of herself, she could not help recalling what her husband had said. Why this hatred against the classes above him? What had they done to him? M. Hennetier, the principal proprietor of the factory, was a moderately rich man; but, down to the present time, the workmen in his employ had always regarded him as both good and just in his dealings with them. To make everybody as well off as himself was impossible. The position he held had been won by hard work; for he had once been a foreman only in the establishment of which he was now at the head. III.--THE STRIKE. Jacques returned late in the night. He was not drunk, as Marianne feared he would be; but he was highly excited and talked of nothing less than setting fire to the factory they had quitted the evening before. Next day he was no calmer. He was hardly at home all day. In the evening, Marianne, looking out of window, saw that something was in the air. The workmen were gathered in knots in the street, or walking about and talking together excitedly. On the following day Jacques did what he had never before done, made "Saint Monday." On Tuesday he returned to the factory, but it was with all the pains in the world and with prayers and tears that Marianne was able to induce him to do so.