And Constance was at last conscious of it: she could
realize the conquering power of fruitfulness; she could already see the
Froments masters of the factory through their son Denis; masters of
Seguin's mansion through their son Ambroise; masters, too, of all the
countryside through their other children. Numbers spelt victory. And
shrinking, consumed with a love which she could never more satisfy, full
of the bitterness of her defeat, though she yet hoped for some abominable
revenge of destiny, she--who never wept!--turned aside to hide the big
hot tears which now burnt her withered cheeks.
Meantime Benjamin and Guillaume were enjoying themselves like greedy
little men whom nothing could disturb. Had there been less laughter one
might have heard the trickling of their mothers' milk: that little stream
flowing forth amid the torrent of sap which upraised the earth and made
the big trees quiver in the powerful July blaze. On every side fruitful
life was conveying germs, creating and nourishing. And for its eternal
work an eternal river of milk flowed through the world.
XIX
ONE Sunday morning Norine and Cecile--who, though it was rightly a day of
rest, were, nevertheless, working on either side of their little table,
pressed as they were to deliver boxes for the approaching New Year
season--received a visit which left them pale with stupor and fright.
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