"You are wrong," he said in a jovial way so as to drive all bitterness
from the discussion. "Don't be unfaithful to the earth; she's an old
mistress who would revenge herself. In your place I would lay myself out
to obtain from her, by increase of care, all that I might want. As in the
world's early days, she is still the great fruitful spouse, and she
yields abundantly when she is loved in proper fashion."
But Lepailleur, raising his fists, retorted: "No, no; I've had enough of
her!"
"And, by the way," continued Mathieu, "one thing which astonishes me is
that no courageous, intelligent man has ever yet come forward to do
something with all that vast abandoned estate yonder--that
Chantebled--which old Seguin, formerly, dreamt of turning into a princely
domain. There are great stretches of waste land, woods which one might
partly fell, heaths and moorland which might easily be restored to
cultivation. What a splendid task! What a work of creation for a bold man
to undertake!"
This so amazed Lepailleur that he stood there openmouthed. Then his
jeering spirit asserted itself: "But, my dear sir--excuse my saying
it--you must be mad! Cultivate Chantebled, clear those stony tracts, wade
about in those marshes! Why, one might bury millions there without
reaping a single bushel of oats! It's a cursed spot, which my
grandfather's father saw such as it is now, and which my grandson's son
will see just the same.
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