She sprang up from her seat, hurried to the kitchen, stirred up the
fire, then returned to the little sitting-room, cleared the table, and
set out the dinner things.
[Illustration: "HE HAMMERED IRON ALL DAY."]
In the street below heavy clattering steps were heard upon the
pavement: it was the work-people going home. Some slouched along, with
their hands in their pockets, scenting the wide-open cabaret; others
quickened their pace, eager to get back to their firesides, to the kind
faces of their housewives and their shock-headed children.
The door opened abruptly; it was he, tall, strong, all black--a
handsome man under his rough skin and bushy beard. The children, who
had waited for his coming out of the factory, were with him. They
seated themselves at table and Marianne brought in the soup.
The blacksmith was fond of soup, fond of the good odour which escaped
from the brown tureen; and he proved it by having his plate filled
three times to the brim.
Yet he did not look in a good temper. His clear blue eyes flashed under
his knit brows, and it was with rough gesture he emptied the glass of
wine Marianne had taken pleasure in pouring out for him.
"This state of things can't go on much longer," he said, as if speaking
to himself.
"What has happened?" asked Marianne, anxiously. "Haven't you been paid
your wages?"
"Thunder! It only wants to come to that. If ever they don't pay me,
I'll burn down the whole shop!"
"How strange you are to-night! What is the matter with you?"
"What's the matter? Well, never you mind; women have nothing to do with
such things."
"Give me your money, Jacques," said Marianne, speaking softly, thinking
that he had forgotten himself a little on leaving the factory, and that
it was well to take precautions.
"My money--what for?"
"For one reason, because you have no need to keep it in your
pocket--you may lose it."
"Or drink it away, you mean?"
"Well! then you know what I have to pay, that I owe for my last
confinement to the doctor, and the tailor has called----"
"The tailor! You are tricking me out nicely! Monsieur must have his
tailor, now, like a fund-holder. And a doctor is to be paid by a
workman--there's another good-for-nothing to be put down!"
The blacksmith seized the bottle of wine that was within his reach and
refilled his glass.
"Jacques," said Marianne, now become slightly pale, "what is the matter
with you to-day? I have never seen you like this before."
"I have had enough of this sort of life; it is time to end it, and that
we should know a little whether it is not the man who makes the harvest
that is to eat the corn."
"Oh!" cried Marianne, "I was sure you had been drinking."
"Yes, I have, but that's neither here nor there. I tell you that at the
factory we've had enough of sweating, and have revolted at last."
"Jacques," cried Marianne, trembling, "has any injustice been done to
you?"
"There's nothing else but injustice in this world. For whom do we
slave? For whom do we toil the life out of us? For the rich and idle! I
tell you, you are not going to pay for anything more with my money; I
shall want it for myself, for I am not going back to work again."
He rose, snatched up his cap and planted it on his head.
"Where are you going, Jacques?"
[Illustration: "WHERE ARE YOU GOING, JACQUES?"]
"To join the comrades who are waiting for me. If I don't come back
to-night, you'll know."
Marianne brushed away a tear which was running down her cheek, and
tried to put a cheerful face on the matter. The children were there,
and she did not want them to comprehend that anything serious was
occurring. Perhaps, too--who could tell?--there might really be nothing
in it; men are so foolish when they have been drinking.
"He has been put out in some way," she said to herself; "it has mounted
to his head, and he is going to give way a little this evening, to
drown his irritation, which will be gone to-morrow."
She put her children to bed, cleared away the dinner things, and
resumed her sewing. But, in spite of herself, she could not help
recalling what her husband had said. Why this hatred against the
classes above him? What had they done to him? M. Hennetier, the
principal proprietor of the factory, was a moderately rich man;
but, down to the present time, the workmen in his employ had always
regarded him as both good and just in his dealings with them. To make
everybody as well off as himself was impossible. The position he held
had been won by hard work; for he had once been a foreman only in the
establishment of which he was now at the head.