The peasant woman shook her head, and said,—
"Listen, traveller. In times of revolution one must not say things that will not be understood. You may be arrested for it."
"But la Tourgue!" cried the mother. "Madame, for the love of the child Jesus, and the holy, good Virgin in Paradise, I beseech you, madame, I beg you, I implore you, tell me how to go to reach la Tourgue!"
The peasant woman grew angry.
"I do not know! and, if I knew, I would not tell you! It is a bad place there. It is not best to go there."
"Nevertheless, I am going there," said the mother.
And she started on.
The peasant woman saw her going away, and grumbled,—
"She ought to have something to eat."
She ran after Michelle Fléchard, and put a buckwheat biscuit in her hand.
"There's something for your supper."
Michelle Fléchard took the buckwheat bread, did not reply, did not turn her head, and went on her way.
She went out of the village. As she came to the last houses she met three little ragged and barefooted children passing by. She went to them, and said,—
"These are two girls and a boy."
And when she saw how they eyed her bread, she gave it to them.
The children seized it, but were afraid of her.
She plunged into the forest.
