"Why, stupid!" interposed Buteau, "what on earth would you do with your share if you stay? Everything is as much yours as it is your sister's or mine. What do you want the half for? Pooh! it's enough to send one into fits! Harkee, the day you marry the property shall be divided."
Jean's eyes, which were fixed on her, fell, as if his heart had failed him.
"You hear? On your wedding day."
She felt oppressed, and made no reply.
"And now, my little Françoise, go and kiss your sister. That'll be much better."
Lise, the buxom matron, was still good-hearted in her gay, noisy way, and she wept when Françoise fell on her neck, Buteau, delighted at having postponed the evil day, cried out that, God's mercy! they would have a drink. He fetched five glasses, uncorked one bottle, and went back to fetch another. Old Fouan's bronzed face had flushed as he explained that he was in favour of order and duty. They all drank, women and men alike, to the health of every one present.
"Wine's a good thing," said Buteau, slapping down his glass, "but, say what you like, that falling water's a deal better. Just look at it! There it goes, and there it goes again. Isn't it glorious?"
Crowding to the windows, with radiant faces, and in a sort of religious ecstacy, they all watched the warm, slow, endless rain stream down, as though beneath this beneficent water they had seen the tall green corn visibly growing.