He was like the seed which clings to the seed-pod
so long as it is not ripe. And at that first quiver of November, that
approach of winter through which the germs would slumber in the furrows,
he pressed his chilly little face close to his mother's warm bosom, and
nursed on in silence as if the river of life were lost, buried deep
beneath the soil.
"Ah!" said Marianne, laughing, "you are not warm, young gentleman, are
you? It is time for you to take up your winter quarters."
Just then Mathieu, with his sower's bag at his waist, was returning
towards them, scattering the seed with broad rhythmical gestures. He had
heard his wife, and he paused to say to her: "Let him nurse and sleep
till the sun comes back. He will be a man by harvest time." And, pointing
to the great field which he was sowing with his assistants, he added:
"All this will grow and ripen when our Gervais has begun to walk and
talk--just look, see our conquest!"
He was proud of it. From ten to fifteen acres of the plateau were now rid
of the stagnant pools, cleared and levelled; and they spread out in a
brown expanse, rich with humus, while the water-furrows which intersected
them carried the streams to the neighboring slopes.
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