ren,
grandchildren, sons-in-law, and daughters-in-law. No one knows how much
a family may grow, and when the hive is too full and the time has come
to swarm, every one thinks about carrying off his honey. When I took
you for my son-in-law, although my daughter was rich and you poor, I
never reproached her for choosing you. I saw you were a good worker, and
I knew well that the best sort of riches for country people like us is a
good pair of arms and a heart like yours. When a man brings those things
into a family, he brings enough. But it's different with a woman: her
work in the house is to keep, not to get. Besides, now that you are a
father and are looking for a wife, you must remember that your new
children, having no sort of claim on the inheritance of your first
wife's children, would be left in want if you should die, unless your
wife had some property of her own. And then, it would cost something to
feed the children you are going to add to our little colony. If that
should fall on us alone, we would take care of them, never fear, and
without complaining; but everybody's comfort would be diminished, and
the first children would have to take their share of the privations.
When families increase beyond measure, and their means do not increase
in proportion, then want comes, however bravely we may struggle against
it. This is all I have to say, Germain; think it over, and try to make
yourself agreeable to Widow Guerin; for her good management and her
crowns will bring us aid for the present and peace of mind for the
future."
"Very good, father. I will try to like her and make her like me."
"To do that you must go to see her."
"At her home? At Fourche? That's a long way, isn't it? and we don't have
much time to run about at this season."
"When a marriage for love is on the carpet, you must expect to waste
time; but when it's a marriage of convenience between two people who
have no whims and who know what they want, it's soon arranged. Tomorrow
will be Saturday; you can shorten your day's ploughing a bit and start
about two o'clock, after dinner; you will be at Fourche by night;
there's a good moon just now, the roads are excellent, and it isn't more
than three leagues. Fourche is near Magnier. Besides, you can take the
mare."
"I should rather go afoot in this cool weather."
"True, but the mare's a fine beast, and a suitor makes a better
appearance if he comes well mounted. You must wear your new clothes
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