"So," said Emile, thinking of his father's theory of incessant toil and no repose in old age, "so Jean will never feel the longing to be free, although he makes so many sacrifices to his alleged freedom?"
"Why, are freedom and idleness the same thing?" said Gilberte, in a tone of surprise. "I think not. Jean is passionately fond of work, and all his freedom consists in choosing the work that pleases him; when he works to gratify his inclination and his natural inventiveness, he works with all the more ardor."
"Yes, mademoiselle, you are right," said Emile, with sudden melancholy, "and that is the whole secret. Man is born to work always, but to work according to his aptitudes and in proportion to the enjoyment he derives from it! Ah! if only I were a skilful carpenter! with what joy I would go and work with Jean Jappeloup, for the benefit of such a wise and unselfish man!"
"Well, well, monsieur," said Janille, as she returned to the room, ostentatiously balancing her earthenware pitcher on her head, to display her strength, "you talk just like Monsieur Antoine. If you'll believe it, he wanted to go to Gargilesse this morning with Jean and work with him as a journeyman, as he used to do! Poor dear man! his kind heart carried him to that length.
"'You helped me to earn my living long enough,' he said; 'now I propose to help you earn yours. You refuse to share my table and my house; accept at least the price of my work, as I don't need it.'"
"And Monsieur Antoine would have done as he said. At his age and with his rank, he would go and hammer away like a deaf man on those great blocks of wood!"
"Why did you prevent him, Mère Janille? Why did Jean obstinately refuse? My father's health would have been no worse for it, and it would be consistent with all the noble impulses of his life. Ah! why cannot I too wield an axe and serve my apprenticeship to the man who supported my father so long, while I, knowing nothing about our means of existence, learned to sing and draw to please you. Really, women are good for nothing in this world!"
"What's that! what's that! women good for nothing!" cried Janille; "very good, let us both start out, climb up on the roofs, square timber and drive nails. Upon my word I could do better at it than you, old and small as I am; but meanwhile, your papa, who's about as clever with his hands as a frog with his tail, will spin our flax and Jean will iron our caps."
"You are right, mother," replied Gilberte; "my wheel is loaded and I have done nothing to-day. If we make haste we shall have cloth enough to make clothes for Jean before next winter. I am going to work and make up for lost time; but it's true none the less that you are an aristocrat, not to want my father to be a workman again when he pleases."
"Let me tell you the truth then," said Janille, with a solemn, confidential air. "Monsieur Antoine never succeeded in being a good workman. He had more courage than skill, and my only reason for letting him work was to prevent him from getting depressed and discouraged. Ask Jean if he didn't have to work twice as hard to mend Monsieur's mistakes, as he would have done if he'd been working alone. But Monsieur always seemed to be doing a lot of work, so the customers were satisfied and he was well paid. But it's true all the same that I was never easy in my mind in those days and that I don't sigh for them. I always shuddered for fear Monsieur Antoine would hit his arm or his leg instead of a timber, or would fall off his ladder when, in his absent-minded way, he would sit down on the rung as if he were by his own fireside."