that left him with a bad cough, and then one day
he couldn't see to read, then he went quite blind. Think what it would have
meant to the town if he had been obliged to give up his factories! But no;
he wasn't going to give them up; not he! He goes to business just the same
as though he had his sight. Those who counted on being the master there,
'cause he fell ill have been put in their places." She lowered her voice.
"His nephews and Talouel; they're the ones I mean."

Aunt Zenobie came to the door.

"Say, Rosalie, have you finished, you young loafer?" she called.

"I've only just this minute got through," answered Rosalie, defiantly.

"Well, there are some customers to wait on ... come on."

"I'll have to go," said Rosalie, regretfully. "Sorry I can't stay with
you."

"Oh, don't mind me," said little Perrine, politely.

"See you tonight."

With a slow, reluctant step Rosalie got up and dragged herself to the
house.

CHAPTER IX

ONE SLEEPLESS NIGHT

After her new friend had left, Perrine would like to have still sat at
the table as though she were in her own place, but it was precisely
because she was not in the place where she belonged that she felt she
could not. She had learned that the little garden was reserved for the
boarders and that the factory hands were not privileged to sit there.
She could not see any seats near the old tumble-down house where she was
to lodge, so she left the table and sauntered down the village street.

Although she went at a slow step, she had soon walked down all the
streets, and as everyone stared at her, being a stranger, this had
prevented her from stopping when she had wanted to.

On the top of the hill opposite the factories she had noticed a wood.
Perhaps she would be alone there and could sit down without anyone
paying attention to her.

She climbed the hill, then stretched herself out on the grass and looked
down over the village ... her father's birthplace, which he had
described so often to her mother and herself.

She had arrived at Maraucourt! This name, which she had repeated so
often since she had trod on French soil, the name she had seen on the
big vans standing outside the Gates of Paris. This was not a country of
dreams. She was in Maraucourt; before her she could see the vast works
which belonged to her grandfather. He had made his fortune here, bit by
bit, sou by sou, until now he was worth millions.

Her eyes wandered from the great chimn