Les Miserables

their dairies,
which they call fruitieres.'
{FANTINE|BOOK_2ND|IV ^paragraph 20}
"Then my brother, while helping this man at table, explained to
him in detail what these fruitieres were;- that they were divided
into two kinds: the great barns, belonging to the rich, and where
there are forty or fifty cows, which produce from seven to eight
thousand cheeses during the summer; and the associated fruitieres,
which belong to the poor; these comprise the peasants inhabiting the
mountains, who put their cows into a common herd, and divide the
proceeds. They hire a cheese-maker, whom they call a grurin; the
grurin receives the milk of the associates three times a day, and
notes the quantities in duplicate. Towards the end of April- the dairy
work commences, and about the middle of June the cheesemakers drive
their cows into the mountains.
"The man became animated even while he was eating. My brother gave
him some good Mauves wine, which he does not drink himself, because he
says it is too dear. My brother gave him all these details with that
easy gaiety which you know is peculiar to him, intermingling his words
with compliments for me. He dwelt much upon the good condition of a
grurin, as if he wished that this man should understand, without
advising him directly, and abruptly, that it would be an asylum for
him. One thing struck me. This man was what I have told you. Well!
my brother, during the supper, and during the entire evening, with the
exception of a few words about Jesus, when he entered, did not say a
word which could recall to this man who he himself was, nor indicate
to him who my brother was. It was apparently a fine occasion to get in
a little sermon, and to set up the bishop above the convict in order
to make an impression upon his mind. It would, perhaps, have
appeared to some to be a duty, having this unhappy man in hand, to
feed the mind at the same time with the body, and to administer
reproof, seasoned with morality and advice, or at least a little
pity accompanied by an exhortation to conduct himself better in
future. My brother asked him neither his country nor his history;
for his crime lay in his history, and my brother seemed to avoid
everything which could recall it to him. At one time, as my brother
was speaking of the mountaineers of Pontarlier, who have a pleasant
labour near heaven, and who, he added, are happy, because they are
innocent, he stopped short, fearing there might have been in this
word which had escaped him something which could wound the feelings of
this man. Upon reflection, I think I understand what was passing in my
brother's mind. He thought, doubtless, that this man, who called
himself Jean Valjean, had his wretchedness too constantly before his
mind; that it was best not to distress him by referring to it, and
to make him think,