"
That same day, about an hour later, a terrible dispute which broke
out between old Moineaud's daughters, Norine and Euphrasie, threw the
factory into a state of commotion. Norine's intrigue with Beauchene
had ended in the usual way. He had soon tired of the girl and betaken
himself to some other passing fancy, leaving her to her tears, her
shame, and all the consequences of her fault; for although it had
hitherto been possible for her to conceal her condition from her
parents, she was unable to deceive her sister, who was her constant
companion. The two girls were always bickering, and Norine had for some
time lived in dread of scandal and exposure. And that day the trouble
came to a climax, beginning with a trivial dispute about a bit of
glass-paper in the workroom, then developing into a furious exchange of
coarse, insulting language, and culminating in a frantic outburst from
Euphrasie, who shrieked to the assembled work-girls all that she knew
about her sister.
There was an outrageous scene: the sisters fought, clawing and
scratching one another desperately, and could not be separated until
Beauchene, Mathieu, and Morange, attracted by the extraordinary uproar,
rushed into the workroom and restored a little order. Fortunately for
Beauchene, Euphrasie did not know the whole truth, and Norine, after
giving her employer a humble, supplicating glance, kept silence; but old
Moineaud was present, and the public revelation of his daughter's shame
sent him into a fury. He ordered Norine out of the works forthwith, and
threatened to throw her out of window should he find her at home when
he returned there in the evening. And Beauchene, both annoyed at the
scandal and ashamed at being the primary cause of it, did not venture to
interfere. It was only after the unhappy Norine had rushed off sobbing
that he found strength of mind to attempt to pacify the father, and
assert his authority in the workroom by threatening to dismiss one and
all of the girls if the slightest scandal, the slightest noise, should
ever occur there again.
Mathieu was deeply pained by the scene, but kept his own counsel. What
most astonished him was the promptness with which Beauchene regained his
self-possession as soon as Norine had fled, and the majesty with which
he withdrew to his office after threatening the others and restoring
order. Another whom the scene had painfully affected was Morange, whom
Mathieu, to his surprise, found ghastly pal
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