human
It is not possible to live this way, he protested.
gpt
People will not buy sabots nor bucket-yokes.
human
They need food before sabots,
gpt
But I too must have food. Are we never to have good bread again? Three years ago we had good bread.
human
This barley, half eaten away, produces more bran than flour, said the old man, trembling with weakness.
gpt
To make bread of it, my woman is obliged to work it over several times, and each time there seems so little left that she weeps. We must soon die.
human
Yet there is always a fight for it at the wickets, when it is distributed,
gpt
And one must fight to keep his share. I go to the wickets with my big knife out,
human
And when one eats it, it gives him inflammation and pains, continued the old man.
gpt
I have seen many years of famine, but never so little bread, and that so hard and stinking.
human
As for me I have found a secret, gravely said the third man, whose hollow countenance displayed an unnatural pallor.
gpt
Over in the Seigneur's park, above the little spring of water, there is a ledge of rock. Below that ledge there lies plenty of white clay. That clay is good to eat. You are hungry no more when you have taken breakfast of that.
human
My God! is our parish reduced to eating earth? exclaimed the oldest of the men.
gpt
What is to become of France? Heaven is against us.
human
I came here before my children woke, because it pierces my heart to listen to their crying,
gpt
Yet everybody knows there is so much good grain in the barns of the new Seigneur,
human
While Monsieur the Chevalier lived none starved, at least, the old man said, his head bowed in despair upon the top of his staff.
gpt
What is to become of us now?
human
It is the fault of the bad people about our King,