“There is no need for reflection,” replied the farmer, “when one is about to do a good thing, my child. The doctor told me to have the book read, and to propagate the principles which it contains; the book shall therefore be read, and the principles shall be propagated.”
“And,” said Catherine, timidly, “may my mother and I, then, go to attend mass?”
“Go to mass, my child; go with your mother,” replied Billot. “You are women; we, who are men, have other things to think of. Come, Pitou, we must be off, for we are waited for.”
Pitou bowed majestically to Madame Billot and Mademoiselle Catherine; then with head erect he followed the worthy farmer, proud of having been thus, for the first time, called a man.
Chapter VII
In which it is demonstrated that although Long Legs’s may be somewhat Ungraceful in Dancing, they are very useful in Running
THERE was a numerous assemblage in the barn. Billot, as we have said, was much respected by his laborers, inasmuch as, though he scolded them unscrupulously, he fed and paid them well.
Consequently every one of them had hastened eagerly to accept his invitation.
Moreover, at this period the people had been seized with that extraordinary fever which pervades nations when nations are about to set themselves to work to produce some great change. Strange, new words, which until then had scarcely ever been uttered, issued from mouths which had never before pronounced them. They were the words, Liberty, Independence, Emancipation; and, strange to say, it was not only among the people that these words were heard; no, these words had been pronounced in the first place by the nobility, and the voice which responded to them was but an echo.
It was in the west that had first shone forth this light, which was destined to illuminate until it seared. It was in America that arose this sun, which, in accomplishing its course, was to make France one vast conflagration, by the light of which the affrighted nations were to read the word Republic traced in vivid characters of blood.
But notwithstanding this, meetings in which political affairs were discussed were less frequent than one would imagine. Men who had sprung up no one knew from where, apostles of an invisible deity, had traversed town and country, disseminating everywhere words in praise of liberty. The government, blinded heretofore, began at length to open its eyes. Those who were at the head of the immense machine denominated the “state,” felt that some of its wheels were paralyzed, without being able to comprehend whence the obstacle proceeded. The opposition existed in all minds, if it had not yet instilled itself into all hands and arms; invisible, though present, though sensible, though threatening, and still more threatening from being like ghosts intangible, and from being divined although it could not be clutched.
Twenty or twenty-five husbandmen, all in the employment of Billot, had assembled in the barn.
Billot entered it, followed by Pitou. All heads were instantly uncovered, and they waved their hats to welcome their loved master. It was plainly visible that all these men were ready to meet death, should he but give the signal.
The farmer explained to the country-people that the pamphlet which Pitou was about to read to them was the work of Doctor Gilbert. The doctor was well known throughout the whole district, in which he was the proprietor of several farms, the one rented by Billot being the most considerable.
A cask had been prepared for the reader. Pitou ascended this extempore forum, and at once began.
It is to be remarked that people of the lower class, and I might almost venture to say, men in general, listen with most attention to that which they understand the least. It was evident that the general sense of the pamphlet escaped the perceptions of the most enlightened among this rustic auditory, and even of Billot himself. But in the midst of that obscure phraseology from time to time flashed, like lightning in a dark sky charged with electricity, the luminous words, Independence, Liberty, Equality. Nothing more was necessary; shouts of applause burst forth; cries of “Long live Doctor Gilbert!” resounded on every side. Not more than one third of the pamphlet had been read; it was decided that the remainder should be delivered on the two following Sundays.