This prospect was not very attractive; however Emile, who was determined not to alarm his parents at any price, resigned himself to it as best he could. But a fresh incident caused him to change his mind before half an hour had passed. The water receded rapidly from the highest points it had flooded; and on the other side of the lake it had formed between him and his father's abode, he saw some workmen leading two horses toward the house, one entirely bare, the other saddled and bridled.

"Our beasts, monsieur," said Sylvain Charasson; "God bless me! both our beasts have come out safe! I supposed my poor mare was in the Creuse before this! Ah! Monsieur Antoine will be glad enough when I bring back his Lanterne! She'll have earned her oats, and perhaps Janille won't refuse to give her a peck. And your black, monsieur—you're not sorry to see him on his feet, are you? He must know how to swim a little!"

Emile rapidly considered what would happen. Monsieur Cardonnet did not know his horse, to be sure, for he had bought him en route; but they would open the valise, they would soon discover that it belonged to him, and their first thought would be that he was dead. He speedily decided to show himself, and after many attempts to make his voice heard above that of the torrent, whose fury was only slightly abated, he succeeded in making the people on the roof of the factory understand that he was there and that Monsieur and Madame Cardonnet must be so informed at once. The news passed from mouth to mouth, through the various places of refuge, as quickly as he could wish, and he soon espied his mother at the window, waving her handkerchief, and his father in person on a raft propelled by two strong men, who were pushing out into the current with dogged determination. Emile succeeded in turning them back, by shouting to them, not without many words lost and repeated again and again, that he was safe, that they must wait a while longer before coming to him, and that the most important thing was to set free the persons who were imprisoned in the factory. Everything was done as he desired, and when there was no longer any danger for any one, he climbed down from the tree, stepped in the water up to his middle, and walked to meet the raft, holding little Charasson under the arms and helping him to keep his footing. Three hours after the passage of the dribe, Emile and his guide were in front of a good fire, Madame Cardonnet was covering her child with kisses and tears; and the page of Châteaubrun, no less petted than he, was describing eloquently the perils they had overcome.

Emile adored his mother. His love for her was still the most fervent passion of his life. He had not seen her since the vacation, which they had passed together in Paris, free from the constant and frequent reproofs of their common master, Monsieur Cardonnet. They both suffered from the yoke they were compelled to wear, and they understood each other on that point, although they had never mentioned it. Madame Cardonnet, a gentle, affectionate, weak creature, felt that her son had a good share of her husband's mental energy and firmness, combined with a generous and sensitive heart which would expose him to great sorrow when those two masterful characters should come in collision on those points as to which their ideas differed. So she had swallowed all the disappointments of her life, taking care not to reveal them to her son, who was her only joy and her most dearly cherished consolation. Although she was not fully convinced of her husband's right to wound her and oppress her without remission, she had always seemed to accept her position as if in obedience to a law of nature and a religious precept. Passive obedience, thus taught by example, had become an instinctive habit in young Emile; but had it been otherwise, sound reasoning would long since have led him to adopt a different course. But when he saw that everybody bowed at the slightest indication of the paternal will, his mother first of all, it had not occurred to him that things might and should be different. Meanwhile the weight of the despotic atmosphere in which he lived had induced in him, from childhood, a sort of melancholy, of nameless unhappiness, of which he rarely sought the cause. It is a law of nature that children shall reverse the lessons that they do not like; and so Emile, early in life, had received from external facts an impulsion directly contrary to that which his father would fain have given him.

The consequences of this natural and inevitable antagonism will be sufficiently developed by the progress of this narrative, so that it is unnecessary to describe them here.

After giving his mother time to recover in some measure from the emotion she had experienced, Emile followed his father, who called him to come and investigate the effects of the disaster. Monsieur Cardonnet displayed a tranquillity superior to all reverses of fortune, and whatever annoyance he may have felt he showed nothing of it. He walked silently through a double line of peasants who had flocked together to gratify their curiosity and to witness the spectacle of his misfortune, some with indifference, a few with sincere interest, the majority with that unavowed but irresistible satisfaction which the poor man prudently keeps out of sight but which he infallibly feels when he sees the wrath of the elements visited on the rich man and himself alike. All these villagers had lost something by the inundation, one a small crop of hay, another a bit of kitchen garden, a third a lamb, a hen or two, or a pile of fire-wood; very trivial losses in reality, but comparatively as severe as the wealthy manufacturer's. But when they saw the wreck of that fine property, but yesterday so prosperous, they could not forbear a thrill of consternation, as if wealth had something worthy of respect in itself, despite the jealousy it arouses.

Monsieur Cardonnet did not wait until the water had entirely receded before resuming work. He sent men to scour the surrounding fields for the materials carried away by the current. He armed the others with spades and pickaxes to clear away the mud and débris which obstructed the approaches to the factory, and when it was possible to enter, he entered first of all, in order to avoid any waste of emotion because of the exaggerations that the first feeling of amazement might extort from others.

VI
JEAN THE CARPENTER

"Take a pencil, Emile," said the manufacturer to his son, who followed him, fearing that he might meet with some accident; "make no mistake in the figures I am going to call off to you.—One, two, three wheels broken here.—The staircase carried away.—The large engine damaged—three thousand, five, seven or eight—Let us take the highest figure; that's the safest way in business.—Put down eight thousand francs.—What! the dam broken? that's strange! Put down fifteen thousand. We must rebuild it all in Roman cement. There's a corner that has given way.—Write, Emile.—Emile, have you written that?"