eaven to spare
him the horror of shedding blood. It is very probable that he would have
ceased visiting Macquart, whose jealous fury made him so uncomfortable,
if he had not tasted the pleasure of being able to speak freely of his
dear Republic there. In the end, however, his uncle exercised decisive
influence over his destiny; he irritated his nerves by his everlasting
diatribes, and succeeded in making him eager for an armed struggle, the
conquest of universal happiness by violence.

When Silvere reached his sixteenth year, Macquart had him admitted into
the secret society of the Montagnards, a powerful association whose
influence extended throughout Southern France. From that moment the
young Republican gazed with longing eyes at the smuggler's carbine,
which Adelaide had hung over her chimney-piece. Once night, while his
grandmother was asleep, he cleaned and put it in proper condition. Then
he replaced it on its nail and waited, indulging in brilliant reveries,
fancying gigantic epics, Homeric struggles, and knightly tournaments,
whence the defenders of liberty would emerge victorious and acclaimed by
the whole world.

Macquart meantime was not discouraged. He said to himself that he would
be able to strangle the Rougons alone if he could ever get them into a
corner. His envious rage and slothful greed were increased by certain
successive accidents which compelled him to resume work. In the early
part of 1850 Fine died, almost suddenly, from inflammation of the lungs,
which she had caught by going one evening to wash the family linen in
the Viorne, and carrying it home wet on her back. She returned soaked
with water and perspiration, bowed down by her load, which was terribly
heavy, and she never recovered.

Her death filled Macquart with consternation. His most reliable source
of income was gone. When, a few days later, he sold the caldron in which
his wife had boiled her chestnuts, and the wooden horse which she used
in reseating old chairs, he foully accused the Divinity of having robbed
him of that strong strapping woman of whom he had often felt ashamed,
but whose real worth he now appreciated. He now also fell upon the
children's earnings with greater avidity than ever. But, a month later,
Gervaise, tired of his continual exactions, ran away with her two
children and Lantier, whose mother was dead. The lovers took refuge in
Paris. Antoine, overwhelmed, vented his rage against his daughter by
expressing the