Host. But what do you want to do then, Henri? It is quite ridiculous. I will make you a proposition. So far as I am concerned, take Léocadie from the Porte St. Martin, but let her stay here with me. I will engage her. Anyway, I have rather a dearth of talented women characters.
Henri. My mind is made up. Prosper. We are leaving town. We are going into the country.
Host. Into the country? But where?
Henri. To my old father, who lives alone in our poor village—I haven't seen him for seven years. He has almost given up hope of ever seeing his lost son again. He will welcome me with joy.
Prosper. What will you do in the country? In the country they all starve. People are a thousand times worse off there than in town. What on earth will you do there? You are not the man to till the fields. Don't imagine you are.
Henri. Time will prove that I am the man to do even that.
Host. Soon there won't be any corn growing in any part of France. You are going to certain misery.
Henri. To happiness. Prosper. Not so, Léocadie? We have often dreamt of it. I yearn for the peace of the wide plains. Yes, Prosper, I have seen myself in my dreams going over the fields with her, in an infinite stillness with the wonderful placid heavens over us. Ay, we will flee from this awful and dangerous town; the great peace will come over us. Is it not true, Léocadie, that we have often had such dreams?
Léocadie. Yes, we have often had such dreams.
Host. Look here, Henri, you should consider it. I will gladly raise your wages and I will give Léocadie quite as much as you.