For myself, I will not leave the grave where your mother, sisters and brothers lie.

I am eager to find, at last, near them, the rest which is denied me in this city of desolation.
_Son._ Courage, dear father, we will find work elsewhere--in Poitou, Normandy or Brittany.

They say that the industry of Paris is gradually transferring itself to those distant countries.
_Father._ It is very natural.

Unable to sell us wood and food, they stopped producing more than they needed for themselves, and they devoted their spare time and capital to making those things which we formerly furnished them.
_Son._ Just as at Paris, they quit making handsome furniture and fine clothes, in order to plant trees, and raise hogs and cows.

Though quite young, I have seen vast storehouses, sumptuous buildings, and quays thronged with life on those banks of the Seine which are now given up to meadows and forests.
_Father._ While the provinces are filling up with cities, Paris becomes country.