"Yes, I'll catch you up."
As he went away, Mouquet met his father, old Mouque, who was also coming out of the Voreux. The two men simply wished each other good evening, the son taking the main road while the father went along by the canal.
Zacharie was already pushing Philoméne in spite of her resistance into the same solitary path. She was in a hurry, another time; and the two wrangled like old housemates. There was no fun in only seeing one another out of doors, especially in winter, when the earth is moist and there are no wheatfields to lie in.
"No, no, it's not that," he whispered impatiently. "I've something to say to you." He led her gently with his arm round her waist. Then, when they were in the shadow of the pit-bank, he asked if she had any money.
"What for?" she demanded.
Then he became confused, spoke of a debt of two francs which had reduced his family to despair.
"Hold your tongue! I've seen Mouquet; you're going again to the Volcan with him, where those dirty singer-women are."
He defended himself, struck his chest, gave his word of honour. Then, as she shrugged her shoulders, he said suddenly:
"Come with us if it will amuse you. You see that you don't put me out. What do I want to do with the singers? Will you come?"
"And the little one?" she replied. "How can one stir with a child that's always screaming? Let me go back, I guess they're not getting on at the house."