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Updated: June 20, 2025
I might have helped her had I realized this before. She has always treated my sister and me as children, keeping from us everything that was hard. But I'll prove to her in future that I, at least, am no longer a child. Thanks to you, Henri, I will go home to Bellerivre not only wiser about silk-growing but wiser, I hope, about life."
At length out of the chaos had come sanity, and now because his wounds were such that he could do no more fighting he had come home to Bellerivre. Monsieur le Curé and Josef were nursing him, and he hoped to join his dear ones in their new home as soon as he was able. It was a wonderful story!
It appalled Pierre to see how much of the little fortune received from the Bretton homestead had to be expended in reaching America. The money which had seemed such a fabulous sum in Bellerivre evaporated in the new land like the dew before the sun.
Nevertheless it was money well invested, he argued, since already he had got back from the sale of his cocoons many times over what the plant had cost him. So successful had he been that his example had been followed by many of his more prosperous neighbors until now Bellerivre, tiny as it was, could boast as fine equipment for sericulture as could be found in all France. Poor M. Bretton!
Such methods required greatest care, however, lest in employing a degree of heat sufficient to exterminate the worm the silk also be damaged. But in Bellerivre no such artificial means had to be resorted to.
But some day in the spring, when I have a holiday, I can show you a brook up in the hills where you can catch as many trout as you like silk-gut or no silk-gut," he said. "There are fishing-holes at Bellerivre, too," retorted Pierre proudly. "Why should you not make the next visit? You could then see my mother and my sister Marie; and I could show you our silk-house."
And so these noble-hearted mothers and children had toiled uncomplainingly at garden, vineyard, and loom; had tended flocks of goats and cattle; and had harvested the hay and grain. For Bellerivre, walled in between the river Eisen and the snowy capped Pyrenees, was a fertile valley on which, in spite of the tragedy of national warfare, the sun seemed ever to shine.
Affectionately they remembered the green valley of Bellerivre; and the friendship of the old priest and the faithful Josef. Tenderly they spoke of their neighbors in the old home and ever loyally they loved La Belle France, the soil that had given them birth. But the spell of America was upon them. They did not wish to go back.
It was a long time, alas, ere Pierre came to understand the complex weaving machinery; and before he half comprehended it a most unexpected happening befell the Bretton family. It was heralded by a letter from far-away Bellerivre a letter from Monsieur le Curé; and before the amazing tidings in the missive could be assimilated another letter a feeble scrawl followed. Monsieur Bretton lived!
As the engine hurried him toward Bellerivre Pierre busied himself thinking how much he would have to tell his mother and Marie. The village was reached almost before he realized it, and as he descended from the train he was surprised to find Monsieur le Curé standing on the platform to greet him. The face of the priest was pale, and with apprehension Pierre made his way toward him.
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