'We have brought some pillows with us,' she said, glancing at the bundle. 'Pillows come in very usefully in a third-class carriage; they make one quite as comfortable as if one were travelling first-class. It is a great saving, going third, and it is of no use throwing money away, is it?'
'Certainly not,' Marthe replied, somewhat surprised by the appearance and language of the new-comers.
Olympe now came forward and went on talking in an ingratiating way.
'It's the same thing with clothes,' said she; 'when I set off on a journey I put on my shabbiest things. I told Honoré that his old overcoat was quite good enough. And he has got his old work-day trousers on too, trousers that he's quite tired of wearing. You see I selected my worse dress; it is actually in holes, I believe. This shawl was mother's; I used to iron on it at home; and this bonnet I'm wearing is an old one that I only put on when I go to the wash-house; but it's quite good enough to get spoilt with the dust, isn't it, madame?'
'Certainly, certainly,' replied Marthe, trying to force a smile.
Just at this moment a stern voice was heard from the top of the stairs, calling sharply: 'Well! now, mother!'
Mouret raised his head and saw Abbé Faujas leaning against the second-floor banisters, looking very angry, and bending over, at the risk of falling, to get a better view of what was going on in the passage. He had heard a sound of talking and had been waiting there for a moment or two in great impatience.
'Come, mother, come!' he cried again.
'Yes, yes, we are coming up,' answered Madame Faujas, trembling at the sound of her son's angry voice.
Then turning to the Trouches, she said: