CHAPTER II
THE previous day, at a meeting held at Rasseneur's, Étienne and some comrades had chosen the delegates who were to proceed on the following day to the manager's house. When, in the evening, Maheude learnt that her man was one of them, she was in despair, and asked him if he wanted them to be thrown on the street. Maheu himself had agreed with reluctance. Both of them, when the moment of action came, in spite of the injustice of their wretchedness fell back on to the resignation of their race, trembling before the morrow, preferring still to bend their backs to the yoke. In the management of affairs he usually gave way to his wife whose advice was sound. This time, however, he grew angry at last, all the more so since he secretly shared her fears.
"Just leave me alone, will you?" he said, going to bed and turning his back. "A fine thing to leave the mates now! I'm doing my duty."
She went to bed in her turn. Neither of them spoke. Then, after a long silence, she replied:
"You're right; go. Only, poor old man, we are done for."
Mid-day struck while they were at lunch, for the rendezvous was at one o'clock at the Avantage, from which they were to go together to M. Hennebeau's. They were eating potatoes. As there was only a small morsel of butter left, no one touched it. They would have bread and butter in the evening.
"You know that we reckon on you to speak," said Étienne suddenly to Maheu.
The latter was so overcome that he was silent from emotion.
"No, no! that's too much," cried Maheude. "I'm quite willing he should go there, but I don't allow him to go at the head. Why him, more than anyone else?"
Then Étienne, with his fiery eloquence, began to explain. Maheu was the best worker in the pit, the most liked, and
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