Her husband, on the contrary, became heavier; misfortune fattened him, making him duller and more indolent.

These thirty years of combat did not, however, bring him to ruin.

At each annual stock-taking they managed to make both ends meet fairly well; if they suffered any loss during one season, they recouped themselves the next.

However, it was precisely this living from hand to mouth which exasperated Felicite.

She would, by far, have preferred a big failure.
They would then, perhaps, have been able to commence life over again, instead of obstinately persisting in their petty business, working themselves to death to gain the bare necessaries of life.