How many inequalities in that mass of trees! Those
placed the highest lack earth and moisture; they die first."

"Some there are whom the shears of the woman gathering fagots cut short
in their prime," she said bitterly.

"Do not fall back into those thoughts," said the rector sternly, though
with indulgence still. "The misfortune of this forest is that it has
never been cut. Do you see the phenomenon these masses present?"

Veronique, to whose mind the singularities of the forest nature
suggested little, looked obediently at the forest and then let her eyes
drop gently back upon the rector.

"You do not notice," he said, perceiving from that look her total
ignorance, "the lines where the trees of all species still hold their
greenness?"

"Ah! true," she said. "I see them now. Why is it?"

"In that," replied the rector, "lies the future of Montegnac, and
your own fortune, an immense fortune, as I once explained to Monsieur
Graslin. You see the furrows of those three dells, the mountain streams
of which flow into the torrent of the Gabou. That torrent separates the
forest of Montegnac from the district which on this side adjoins ours.
In September and October it goes dry, but in November it is full of
water, the volume of which would be greatly increased by a partial
clearing of the forest, so as to send all the lesser streams to join
it. As it is, its waters do no good; but if one or two dams were made
between the two hills on either side of it, as they have done at Riquet,
and at Saint-Ferreol--where they have made immense reservoirs to feed
the Languedoc canal--this barren plain could be fertilized by judicious
irrigation through trenches and culverts managed by watergates; sending
the water when needed over these lands, and diverting it at other
times to our little river. You could plant fine poplars along these
water-courses and raise the finest cattle on such pasturage as you
would then obtain. What is grass, but sun and water? There is quite soil
enough on the plains to hold the roots; the streams will furnish dew and
moisture; the poplars will hold and feed upon the mists, returning their
elements to the herbage; these are the secrets of the fine vegetation of
valleys. If you undertook this work you would soon see life and joy and
movement where silence now reigns, where the eye is saddened by barren
fruitlessness. Would not that be a noble prayer to God? Such work would
be a better occupation of your leisu