Autumn Glory; Or, The Toilers of the Field

ouds, rising out of the sea, had discharged their contents on the arid earth, as pockets full of corn are scattered by

ntent upon the last drops of rain formed during the night, that came crashing down at the foot of the trees with a ring as of fall

La Fromentière, the far-off grinding of a plough, and the calls

ed petals set on upright stems. Eléonore standing before it, in a print gown, was feeding the oven with faggots of bramble, thrusting them with an iron fork into the furnace. Marie-Rose was busily going backwards and forwards bringing in t

ou expectin

d she busied herself with separating the burning embers, arra

fill the ove

twelve pound each; enough wherewith to feed all at La Fromentière, and to give to the poor of Monday for a fortnight. The last having been placed, Eléonore closed the mouth of the oven with an iron pla

een seen fairly often at La Fromentière for some months past, held out a l

Railways, Mam'selle Eléonore.

r and putting it into the pocket of her apron, "I will g

look of you." The man made a half-turn on his well-worn shoes, and we

notized, on the corner of white paper that protruded from her pocket. She seemed strangely agitated

ing what is going on; only yesterday, after mass, you and Fran?ois went off by yourselves to read some paper in the lane by the Michelonnes, I was there to fetch my money,

and drew her younger sister tumultuously to her beating heart; and for the first time for many y

ave the like again in all my life. I cannot tell it to you ... it is there in the letter

her face against her sis

nore, it only concern

talked until I yielded ... and then I signed ... and now it is all done. Still, were it not

éonore?" cried the

hite face was

repeated. "Oh, where?

ay to a feeling of anger, and repulsed the gir

ghly. "Do not talk like that. Ar

no wish

them. You said it aloud fo

d, I d

e coming

following the other, were audible. The

suppliant, her voice shake

atches sight of me, he will guess everything.... I dare not go back into the house with s

n grass and leaves, a soft haze lay all around, the air was mild and balmy; linnets, innumerable, had settled on the waggon-ruts, where lay thistles trodden down by th

at the door of the bakery, crossed the yard to the stable where Fran?ois, having

fire." And still quite pale, Eléonore held out the letter, watching it pass fr

" she asked.

superiority over the weaker sex, as he proceeded deliberately to open the envel

! to-m

morr

a Roche at noon, to beg

ed her face wi

and leave me now," he con

but to go to-mo

ed it. Why, you engaged with the owner of the coffee shop

es

ise to keep h

Fran

uble myself about you on the condition that you would keep house for me?

not sa

a pretty life at La Fromentière when I am gone; without mentioning the action the landlord at La Roche will bring agains

head and always under the im

ak to him when I am there." She hurriedly left the stable and went into the house to serve the dinn

de at the table, they watched their steaming plates of soup cool as they

at Chalons fair,"

ll be to

y boy. I will look out for a stro

ove all things! We

shook his head as

ked well, and he loved farming, whilst others...." Little Rousille was listening with eyes lowered, standing like a statue by the window. Fra

youth shrugged his shoul

I came back I have felt that I cannot

hire anyone. Look at these arms," and he held them out, the muscles showing under his coat sleeves like knots of an oak-tree impr

ce, he added: "Still we will get through some good work, children, with Fran?ois and Driot, who will soon be home, and the man I am about to hire. I have a mind

lips as if to speak and tell their secret. But no word escaped the young man's lips during the remainder of the meal.

u take me up the

the cart, Eléonore, and yo

ling upon Driot, whose name was now so constantly upon his lips. But it

al; his footprints were still visible in the dust. There were four superb oxen, preceded by a grey mare, Noblet, Cavalier, Paladin, and Matelot, all with tawny coats, widespread horns, high backs, and slow supple gait. With perfect ease they drew the plough, the share raised, up the steep asce

sts. With them meditation was a sign of their calling, the mark of the noble vocation of those by whose labours the world is fed. Arrived at the top of the knoll in the field of La Cailleterie, his father helped Mathurin out of the little cart to the foot of an ash-tree, whose branches

held the share, himself guided the plough to th

u, Fran?ois, lead your oxen straight. This is a grand day

e bow of a ship. The well-trained oxen went straight and steadily. Their muscles under the supple skin moved regularly and without more apparent effort than if they had been drawing an empty cart upon an even road. Weeds lay uprooted in the ruts; trefoil, wild oats, plantains, pimpernels, broom, its yellow blossoms

the team descended the slope of the hill, and the forms of his fa

his hand, "Fran?ois, see to Noblet, he is slackening. Touch up Matelot!

ns of the oxen and his brother's goad came into view, and, to greet the return of the plough, he began with stentorian voice to chant the slow refrain which can be varied or ended at pleasure. The notes were flung far and wide from his powerful chest, embellished with fioriture ancient as the art of ploughing itself. The oxen knew the rhythm, and stepped in time to it; the cadence accompanied

our vineyard that is dying off. As soon as D

fted his hat to cool his hot h

of a Lumineau! I will lay in a stock of vines. I am hopeful of our work to-day. Come on, youngster, straighten the

rtle-doves, gorged with seed, took shelter in the ash-trees from the burning heat of the stubble fi

now, Fran?ois. Sing, boy,

tered the singer. He pulled himself together, raised his head, and, looking towards the Marais, made a fresh effort; a few more notes faltered out, then a sob choked them, and, crimson with shame, the young man resumed his way in silence, his face turned towards

for me, Fran?oi

tanding level with the hedge, his son on the

going awa

?" But from the expression of his son's eyes he quickly saw that this was a

sting on Noblet's back, as if to support himself, trembl

ough of this.

of what,

money that all goes to pay the rent of the farm. I mean to be my own master, and make money for myself. I have g

op where she will make more than with you; at any rate, she will have a chance of marrying.... And I don't see that we have acted badly towards you in what we have done. Don't say that we ha

e arm resting on the plough, he remained speechless, his eyes fixed upon Fran?ois as if d

me cannot be true; Eléonore

he has; no

ause times are hard for everyone. But now that I am going to take on a farm-servant, now that another fortnight w

es

er than at home? Have y

N

ou clothes, or even mo

N

military service has chan

t ma

t you will n

nd into his coat pocket,

morrow," he said. "If you don't

ld scarcely take it. Once in his hands, without opening it, in a sudden access of indignation h

s an end to the lette

nothing," ret

but a powerful hand was laid upon

y he

was constrai

ged you,

d of the

this thing by yourself, you had the

a moment, then, feeling hims

Meff

t the farmer s

the dog-cart. Quick! I am g

ill, looked at him out of their large soft eyes. The first object he saw, in among the trees, was the belfry of Sallertaine. He shook his head. No, the Curé, the good old friend he consulted so willingly, could do nothing. Toussaint Lumineau knew him to be powerless against town officials and authorities, all the great unknown outside the parish. His gaze left the church, passed over the farm without stopping, but rested awhile on the pointed roofs of La Fromentière. Ah! were the Marquis but there! He feared no

ied he, "

hill, through the stil

ou are not co

snapped. I must t

rig

e will come to fetch you. I am goin

thence to the farm. To avoid having to answer Mathurin's questions, the farmer touched up his oxen and took this way back.

ly. Then, passing in front of him,

éon

h the house-place he passed into

is your

is in the courtyard just n

at Chalons, Fran?ois and I. We shall be back before supper. Go to Mathurin,

Getting into the cart, he signed to his son to take the place beside him, and with

pes: innkeepers standing at their doors, tramps on the highway, peasants lopping the trees. "What has come to them? Old Lum

le his stalwart arms, eager for strife and vengeance, lashed into the mare. Fran?ois, on the contrary, exhausted by the effort he had m

e of the pillars; then followed his father who turned up one of the streets on the left, and stopped before a modern, narrow,

ulled the be

he asked the servan

in a tone and look not of the pleasantest, and who present

. What may be

La Fromentière, wants to speak to him;

g in the shabby passage at the foot of the stairs. So taken aback was she, that she did not see the shamefaced Fran?ois hidden in the background, but only

haven, his small eyes blinking, probably with the sudden change from the outer glare. This was M. Meffray, member for Chalons, an ambitious small tradesman, who, origin

iolence, he stopped short at the foot of the staircase, rested his elbow on the

at you are in haste, we can talk just as well here. I have

" returne

nything mor

eep my boy,

? What do

should undo wha

n him. Have you had y

s,

as you know. I have now ten other applications which I have far more reason to support than I had yours. F

, s

o," broke in Toussaint Lumineau,

s of age,

am an old man. I had counted on leaving my farm to him, as my father left it to me. He g

id not seek him

ll that doing a service, M. Meffray? Did you even know what would be best for Fran?ois-had you ever s

your son. It doe

ncing a step, and pointing at him with extended arm, Toussaint Lumineau said in a loud

s heavy fac

son! Manage your own affairs. Ah! these peasants! Su

range fire in his eyes; from the depths of his tortured heart, from the depths

nswer for th

w s

l both be lost, M. Meffray. You shal

for him to take in an idea so different from those usually filling his mind; then throwing a contemptuous glance

or-

y side by side until they reached the Place. There the father, unfasteni

n?ois. We wi

oung man

ly at his old father, who, leaning against the shaft with half-closed eyes, seemed about to swoon. Under the colonnade of the Halles there was not a soul; a few women in their shops round the Place were carelessly looking at the two men. After a mome