Chariot started.
“And she ate nothing. I am afraid she will be ill. And she never spoke.”
“Poor woman!” said Chariot, with a sigh of relief which Jack took for one of sorrow.
They reached the wharf. The boat was not there. A thick fog covered the river from one shore to the other.
“Let us go in here,” said Chariot It was a little wooden shed, intended as a shelter for workmen while waiting in bad weather. Clarisse knew this shed very well, and the old woman who sold brandy and coffee in the corner had seen Madame Rondic many a time when she crossed the Loire.
“Let us take a drop of brandy to keep out the cold,” said Chariot. At that moment a shrill whistle was heard; it was the boat for Saint Nazarre. “Good-bye, Jack, and a thousand thanks for your good advice!”
“Don’t mention it,” said the lad, heartily; “but pray give up gambling.”
“Of course I will,” answered the other, hurrying on board to hide his amusement. When Jack was again alone he felt no desire to return to the Works; he was in a state of unusual excitement. Even the heavy fog hanging over the Loire interested him. Suddenly he said to himself, “Why do I not go to Nantes and buy Zénaïde’s gift to-day?” A few moments saw him on the way; but as there was no train until noon, he must wait for some time, and was compelled to pass that time in a room where there were several of the old employés of the Works, who had been discharged for various misdemeanors. They received the lad civilly enough, and listened attentively when he took up some remark that was made, and uttered some platitudes, stolen from D’Argenton, on the rights of labor.
“Listen!” they said to each other; “it is easy to see that the boy comes from Paris.”
Jack, excited by this applause and sympathy, talked fast and freely. Suddenly the room swam around—all grew dark. A fresh breeze restored him to consciousness. He was seated on the bank of the river, and a sailor was bathing his forehead.