"She is half-witted."
Then she took her aside, and gave her a buckwheat biscuit.
Michelle Fléchard, without thanking her, bit eagerly into the biscuit.
"Yes," said the peasants, "she eats like a pig, she is half-witted."
And the rest of the group scattered. They all went away one after another.
When Michelle Fléchard had finished eating, she said to the peasant woman: "It is good; I have had something to eat. Now, for la Tourgue!"
"See how she clings to that!" exclaimed the peasant woman.
"I must go to la Tourgue. Tell me the way to la Tourgue."
"Never," said the peasant woman. "You want to be killed, do you? Besides, I don't know. Ah, so you are really mad? Listen, my poor woman, you look tired. Will you rest in my house?"
"I cannot rest," said the mother.
"Her feet are all raw," muttered the peasant woman.
Michelle Fléchard added,—
"As I tell you, they have taken my children from me. A little girl and two little boys. I come from the carnichot in the forest. You can ask Tellmarch the Caimand about me. And then the man I met in the field down there. It was the Caimand who made me well. It seems that I had something broken. All these are things that have happened. Besides, there was the sergeant Radoub. You can ask him. He will tell you. For he it was who found us in a wood. Three. I tell you three children. And the oldest is called René-Jean. I can prove all this. The other is called Gros-Alain, and the other is called Georgette. My husband is dead. They killed him. He was a farmer in Siscoignard. You look like a good woman. Show me my way. I am not mad; I am a mother. I have lost my children. I am looking for them. I do not know exactly where I have come from. Last night I slept on some straw in a barn. La Tourgue is where I am going. I am not a thief. You see that I am telling the truth. You ought to help me find my children. I do not belong to this country. I have been shot, but I do not know where."
