"The Mediterranean!" exclaimed the baron scornfully. "Why, the Mediterranean's nothing but oil or sugared water, while this sea is terrific with its crests of foam and its wild waves. And think of those men who have just gone off on it, and who are already out of sight." Jeanne gave in. "Yes, perhaps you are right," she said with a sigh, for the word "Mediterranean" had sent a pang through her heart, and turned her thoughts to those far-away countries where all her dreams lay buried. They did not go back through the wood, but walked along the road; they walked in silence, for both were saddened by the thought of the morrow's parting. As they passed the farmhouses, they could smell the crushed apples--that scent of new cider which pervades all Normandy at this time of the year--or the strong odor of cows and the healthy, warm smell of a dunghill. The dwelling houses could be distinguished by their little lighted windows, and these tiny lights, scattered over the country, made Jeanne think of the loneliness of human creatures, and how everything tends to separate and tear them away from those they love, and her heart seemed to grow bigger and more capable of understanding the mysteries of existence. "Life is not always gay," she said in tones of resignation. The baron sighed. "That is true, my child," he replied; "but we cannot help it." The next day the baron and baroness went away, leaving Jeanne and Julien alone. * * * * * VII The young couple got into the habit of playing cards; every day after lunch Jeanne played several games of bezique with her husband, while he smoked his pipe and drank six or eight glasses of brandy. When they had finished playing, Jeanne went upstairs to her bedroom, and, sitting by the window, worked at a petticoat flounce she was embroidering, while the wind and rain beat against the panes. When her eyes ached she looked out at the foamy, restless sea, gazed at it for a few minutes, and then took up her work again. She had nothing else to do, for Julien had taken the entire management of the house into his hands, that he might thoroughly satisfy his longing for authority and his mania for economy. He was exceedingly stingy; he never gave the servants anything beyond their exact wages, never allowed any food that was not strictly necessary. Every morning, ever since she had been at Les Peuples, the baker had made Jeanne a little Normandy cake, but Julien cut off this expense, and Jeanne had to content herself with toast.