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Autumn Glory; Or, The Toilers of the Field

Chapter 2 THE FAMILY LUMINEAU.

Word Count: 5770    |    Released on: 01/12/2017

but not a word was spoken. Feeling isolated, she crept along beside the wall, trying by lessening the noise of her sabots the sooner

r, blackened with smoke, hid them from the rest of the family as they stood one on either side; the dancing flames between them lit up, from time to time, the inmates and contents of the big house-place, built at a period when wood was plentiful, and houses and furniture were intended to last; while overhead numberless rafters discoloured wi

light upon their bent heads, upon the soup-tureen, a dish of cold bacon, and another of uncooked apples. They were not eating from the tureen as do many peasant farmers, but each had his plate, and beside it his metal spoon

of chest, length of arms, and size of hands denoted a man of gigantic stature; but when this giant, supported by his crutches, stood up, one saw a poor twisted, thickened torso, with contorted powerless legs dragging after it; a prize-fighter's body terminating in two wasted limbs, capable at most of supporting it for a few seconds, and from which even, powerless as they now were, the life was gradually ebbing. Scarce thirty years of age, the beard which grew almost to his cheek-bones was grey i

of them all, what a wreck he is!" t

his simple peasant nature, over his dreams of ploughing the land and harvesting, over the tenets of faith he held in common with his race, with scarce a trace of harm. I

wife. The dusk of evening was over the roads, it was hard to distinguish ruts from tufts of grass; but he, all absorbed in his sweetheart, confident that his horse knew the way, was not even holding the reins that had fallen and were dragging on the ground. A

ce, she found him trying in vain to struggle up from the ground. For eight months Mathurin was groaning in agony; then his groans ceased, his sufferings grew less acute; but first the feet became paralyzed, then the knees, and gradually the slow death mounted.... At the present time he could only drag his lower limbs after him, crawling on his knees and wrists, grown to an enormous size. He could still guide a pun

he happiness of others as a personal wrong to himself; they feared his skill at ferreting out any love-making; the treachery which would prompt him to try and mar it. He, who never could hope now to inspire lov

ndsome young Chasseur d'Afrique, their father's favourite. He even was jeal

urin Lumineau

the stables, until a flood of tears would melt his passion. At those times one man only could go near him: his father. One thing alone softened the cripple's churlishness, and that was t

er once been into the town of Sallertaine, even to Easter Communion, which he no lo

mes asked

her marrying? Is she still as

only whom she furtively glanced at, and his face seemed to her to we

ng man from the other, of middle height, stout, re

y to get on with because he needed the indulgence of others. Physically and morally the counterpart of Eléonore, two years his senio

f her good mother, now dead, who, like so many of the simple peasant women of those

raged in the few halting intentions for good that he had taken with him from the home life, never been treated as a man, who has a soul, and whom sacrifice, however humble, can ennoble. On the other hand, he fell an easy prey to all the evils of a soldier's life; the loose talk at mess, the drinking habits of h

otector of André, who, twirling his tamarind stick, would make the round of the canals to see if the cows had strayed from the meadows, or to search for any ducks which might have wandered into the ditches! With unwilling spirit, and because he had nothing better to do, he had returned to the care of the animals and to follow the plough. The proximity of Chalons, its wine shops and taverns was a temptation to him; urged on by his companions, weak and passive, he suffered himself to be led away. On Tuesdays, particularly, ma

had been born, fed, and at last had slept their last sleep!

ed in that chimney, by those bearing the same name, could have

ch as she would use when writing to a friend. And the thought had come to him that his two children, weary of rule and scoldings, were on the look-out for a farm in some neighbouring parish, where they would be their own masters-it was a thought he dared not dwell upon; h

is was little Rousille, who was eating the crust of bread given her by Eléonore; one face alone expressed the joy of living, the health of body and soul, the brave spirit of one wh

id the farmer. "Come, Mathurin

ays the same t

," replied the father, "bacon

ng his shoulders, pushed

meat is too dea

acted at the mention of former p

, and expenses are heavy," then, wishing to c

, in success

not se

or

or

ich all eyes were turned t

Rousille," exclaimed El

he table, her profile standing

he turn of the road by our swin

a stop to. To-night, when I was tying up my cabbages, the ke

shoot plovers?" asked R

ore and Fran?ois marked their hostility to

mself about Nesmy's shooting in the neutral ground of the Marais, where anyo

ready nodding,

ed on space, perhaps he was thinking o

interval of a

inks of the door with a gentle murmur

"Meat is too dear for us, now." The old man was looking back to the long ago, when the four children before him had been busied with their own childish experiences, and could only take their little part in the parents' interests accor

greatly since M. le Marquis' tim

he face, who used to call out when he came in, 'Good evening, my lads! Has father an

over," said the good farmer,

ildren! They never used to mind waiting for the rent if there had been a bad harvest. They have even made me a loan, more than once, to buy oxen or se

Mathurin, "they

say she must be about twenty-five by now. How pretty she used to look, with her lace frocks, her hair dressed like one of the saints in a church, her pretty laughing

nd in a voice that rose at the s

ld they do? Th

! Not so ba

need to hear what people say. All their property is mortgaged; the notary makes no se

ter things than you. It is my idea that M. Henri will one day come back to the Chateau, that he will stand just where you now are, and with outstretched hand, say: 'Good day, Father Lumineau!' and Mademoiselle Amb

be seeing his master's daughter standing between his own t

ith his fist, said, as he turned h

is about Midsummer. I'll wager that the keeper just now asked you a

on the bench, thought for a mo

the master really did order him to speak as

nd what did

ld pay at M

h wh

en were left to themselves; it was the time when they discussed matters of interest. Already, in the previous year, the farmer had borrowed from his eldest son the larger portion of the money that he h

g that Fran?oi

sleepiness by the forego

ad not the courage to look his father in the face as he

ot angry, he onl

k to us." And he waited, looking at the thick tawny hair and bull neck of his eldest son that scarcely rose above the tab

is free to use it as he or she pleases? Ours is already invested. What does it matter

a passion, he rather felt hurt as though not recognising his own flesh and blood; it was as if, all suddenly, there had dawned upon

. I and your mother, and Mathurin, who have known them better than you, have always respected them; do you understand? They are perfectly justified in spendi

whether we are here or elsewhere? as far as farmi

rt, he thus seceded from La Fromentière. The sound of washing of dish

g open the door that led into the courtyard. A rush of air, the scent of leaves, the breath of green fields, came into the heated room redolent of food. Fran?ois, hastening t

bank of more extended clouds deep down in the horizon. Swept on by the wind to the neighbouring coast they formed themselves into transparent islands, separating abysses of deep-blue sky studded with stars. With the leisurely movement of a laden vessel the wind bore on towards the

lm and fecundity following one upon the other, which should spread

his beloved Vendée, felt that love-thrill within him which, unabl

dull; the house is not like it was in my dear wife's time; I do not know how to keep them together as she did." And he thought of la mère Lumineau, the good, saving housewife, haughty towards strangers, loving to h

ard it, and his thoughts turned at once to the man sho

er plover down

gnised the speaker. "Do not be telling tales, which you know irritate me, again

r, and the farmer felt the shaggy head touch h

ee this Boquin making love to my sister in order to get hold of our money, and play the master here. A fellow wh

ittle to him, "that a girl like Rousille would listen to my

on. Even now that all hope had been abandoned of seeing him his successor; after all the many proofs experie

s a whispered breath the wor

ures. Toussaint Lumineau looked down at the face raised to his, so w

my; he is audacity itself. He lets you think that he likes shooting, and I do not say but what he may, but he does not carry his love for it to that extent, I'll be bound. Is it only for his own pleasure that he is off to the far end of the Marais to shoot plovers;

," returned his father soothing

n to-morrow along the road to the Mar

urself no good by so much talking, Mathuri

boots. No sooner did she touch his arm than turning, he went in with her. T

the door in the middle, which was that of his daughter's bedchamber. All was dark within; a ray of moonlight fell across the well-waxed wardrobes furnishing the sides of the room-wardrobes always kept in perfect order by Eléonore and Rousille. The farmer felt his wa

the

sto

usille? Are yo

y the length of the room; the darkness was too great for them to see each other. "As

hat I shall not repay you?

ed by this reception, and checked

elonne's nephew has it.... I will, indeed, an

s, the farmer was unaware of it

ndle in her hand, Marie-Rose was no longer beside her bed, but was

e was a view over the low wall, and through the arched gateway

of some far-off chariot that never stopped. The immense grassy plain looked blue in the darkness; here and there the water of a dyke shone in the moonlight. A few distant lights, a window lit up, pierced the veil of mist that spread over the meadows. Unerringly Rousille could name each farmstead to herself by its beacon light, similar to that on the mast-head of a ship riding at anchor; La Pin?onnière, La Parée du Mont, both near; further away, Les Levrelles; then so distant that their lights were only visi

sh of wings over the t

d Eléonore, waking up. "It is the t

Moque-Souris were extinguished; those of Sallertaine had gr

slowly, musingly, the girl began unfastening her dress by the light ref

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