Autumn Glory; Or, The Toilers of the Field

the future of the farmstead. The new farm-hand did not excite himself, as Toussaint Lumineau said, that is to say, he worked his fourteen hours

erything else that came to his hand, the young man seemed to prove that he

dré could not accustom himself to Fran?ois' absence. He missed the friend of his young

without any regrets, however, for what they had done, and quite decided as to the advantages of living in a town, and being their own masters. He had gone back without the least wish to follow their example-more severe even than before against the renegades from the old home

t two furrows," or, "let us have some chestnuts roasted in the embers to-night, Rousille, Fran?ois used to like them." He thought to do well by so speaking, to re-unite, as it were, in some degree those whom misfortune had parted. And Rousille did the same. Still oftener did everyday objects speak of, and recall the absent one. Now it was a fork he had been wont to use

t through the day's work-a home as passionately loved and defended as any nest from which the fledgelings have not yet flown. He found it unrecognisable. Two had gone, leaving the house desolate, the old father inconsolable, the work too heavy for those left behind. Rousille was wearing herself out. André saw clearly that he alone would not suffice to keep La Fromentière in a state of good cultivation, certainly not to improve it, as he had so often meditated through the hot, sleepless nights in Africa, thinking of the elm-trees at home. For this two strong young pair of arms were needed, without counting the help of a farm-servant: Fran?ois should have

was so uncertain and so soured that pity might well go out to him, but not real brotherly love. There remained Rousille, possibly. But Rousille was seventeen when André had left home, and he continued to treat her as a child, and told h

n vain, tried to recognise the home of his youth. Like all peasants of the coast, he was one of those taciturn labourers who look over the sand-hills towards the sea, and who dream dreams when the

nown in Africa. "I find it too dull here. My brother and sister have left home. If you happen to know of any good investment in land in Algiers, or elsewhere, let me know. I have not come to any decision, but I am thinking of going away. I am, as it were, alone here." And

few weeks since you have been home. I don't grudge it you, reading is such a ho

e they would go in single file, examining everything, expressing approval or disapproval by uplifted eye or shrug of the shoulder, exchanging an occasional word that had always the same object: the harvest, present or future, good or indifferent, threatened or gathered in. In this winter season it was the fi

Not that he despises the land, on the contrary, he loves it, and I have no fault to find with hi

an effort of will, or that youth obtained the mastery over depression, André was usually in gay and careless spirits, bantering Rousille and trying to make her laugh. But as a woman and one who had suffered, Rousille had learned to discern the sorrows of others; and from many a little sign, eyes fixe

ur. Sometimes he would follow him into the fields, then watch for the arrival of the postman and take charge of the letters and papers addressed to André. The smallest details remained engraven on his brooding memory; and one day, under the guise of ind

ium, larger than Nantes tha

nyone living so far from h

n in the foreign legion, whose family live in Antwerp. Sometimes I hear from De

old comra

er countries.... One of the sons has settled across the se

he

He is

a pamphlet on emigration lying about, or an advertisement of land to be let or sold, taking it up Mathurin would seek to discover th

re money was easily made? Those were the problems. Thus in the month of December, when opportunities for confidential chat are more

hear such things." Or at other times he would say: "La Fromentière must seem small and insignif

g events in his mind, whil

te wings turn grey. The main work of the fields was suspended; the owners of land on high ground felled trees, or re-made fences; those on the Marais were perforce reduced to idleness; it was holiday-time with them; dykes and ditches were overflowing. The

nd, following Mathurin's advice, Toussaint Lumineau r

on the high ground which cuts the road between Chalons and La Fromentière. Before them they saw nothing

ork of destruction engendered. If a root, perchance, made very tough resistance, the father once or twice attempted to joke, saying playfully: "It felt quite comfortable there, and did not want to be turned out," or something else to that effect. But he soon gave up the attempt. He could not succeed in banishing from his mind, nor from that of the

, drunk of its juice. And now it was dying. Each time that he gave the final blow to a root he felt a pang; each time that, seizing a portion of the lifeless fibres he threw it on the heap of dead uprooted stems, he shrugged his shoulders with mingled sorrow and rage. Dead those veins through which the red, joyous sap was wont to rise. Dead the fertile branches once bending under the weight of bunches of grapes, until they rested a golden glory on the ground! Never again would the flowerets, pale stars with drops of honey in each centre, attract the summer gnats, nor diffuse their mignonette-like perfume far over the fields, even to La

work, Driot, we

n he would plant fresh ones, and in his silent musings had seen his successor gathering in the vintage and drinking the muscadet of the new vineyard. He posse

s, they looked across the Marais to the crimson horizon, and at the clouds driven by the wind towards the setting sun. It was a melancholy evening; all around them were furze-bushes, ground uncultivated, hedges devastated, leafless

e vine is at an end in our lan

, my D

the shadows; and the action extended so far, away over the Marais and over La Vendée, th

to us, my Driot," said he, "seei

he anxious tenderness of

becomes more and mor

have fallen upon the very same way of thought. As the men, skirting the brown fields, came nearer home, La Fromentière with its masses of trees rose like a dome of denser darkness, above which the winter

ootsteps, opened the door, and raised

te to-night

wn sound of a horn was heard coming from t

Mathurin from within. The two men, followed by Rou

rin r

a Seulière to-night.

with a nervous movement, his eyes glaring with long-suppressed desire, was

ncing," returned André carelessly

the bench like a sack of wheat that expands as it touches the ground. The men ate their supper hurriedly; towards the end of the meal Toussaint Lumineau, whose

He declares that vines have had their day with us; that they flourish better els

esponded the cripple roughly. "We are

ilky moustache quivered as he spoke. "It is not our vineyard alone that is played out, it is the soil; ours, our neighbour

ather. "I know none about

ed hurriedly: "In America, the Cape, Australia, British possessions-everythi

it, Driot; it is w

up; to

what. But feed it we

have nothing to b

too dry, not too wet, and

, as if under a personal insult

k in his horny hand, was trying to understand the situation. And there was something in the fluency

l. Then taxes are too heavy, and rents too high; and all the time that we are leading a miserable existence, they out yonder are having magnificent harvests. That I hear every day. Our vineyards ar

ories! You have r

ats, horses, oxen; and that we have competing with us Americans, Australians, and soon we shall have Japanese, Chinese--" he was intoxicated with words; he was but the echo of the few pamphlets he had read, or of what he had heard from others. La Fromentière heard him wit

es that, in the light of the lamp, w

as I have done to-night, from rooting up a vineyard, it makes one savage to think that there are p

!" quoth th

ssage free; keeps him when he first lands; and

alised at the enormity of his son's statem

with all the stuff you believe in like the Gospel. Two hundred and ninety-six roods. Governments would soon be ruined if they made a present like that to everyone who wanted it.... Hold

f which the farm-servant took advantag

ked at his brother; he, ill at ease, excited by the recent discussion, understood the mute que

l. Yes, I

s far as the boat," r

umineau for

cold out of doors. Do not go further than the duck meadow, and come back quickly." He followed with his eyes the cripple, who, in great haste, with the unnat

ench, his head on his arm, looking out into the dark farmyard, the old man pondered the things he had heard that night, and his powerless

er, busy at her work of washing up; the least word

or, and came, drying the plate in

Mathurin may go

es, and he dare not appear at La Seulière" ... stooping, she searc

e put them on beforehand ... the first

ing uneasily from minute to minute to listen for the sound of