"I can see a lot of black smoke over by the poplars on the left," replied Perrine.
"On the left? That is the way to the factory."
"Yes; shall I drive that way?" asked Perrine.
"Yes," replied M. Vulfran, indifferently.
It was not until they reached the village that they knew where the fire was.
"Don't hurry, M. Vulfran," called out a peasant; "the fire ain't in your house. It's La Tiburce's house that's on fire."
La Tiburce was a drunken creature who minded little babies who were too young to be taken to the crèche. She lived in a miserable tumble-down house near the schools.
"Let us go there," said M. Vulfran.
They had only to follow the crowd, for the people, when they saw the flames and smoke rising, were running excitedly to the spot where the fire was. Before reaching the scene Perrine had to stop several times for fear of running someone down. Nothing in the world would have made the people get out of their way. Finally M. Vulfran got out of the carriage and, guided by Perrine, walked through the crowd. As they neared the entrance to the house, Fabry, wearing a helmet, for he was chief of the firemen, came up to them.
"We've got it under control," he said, "but the house is entirely burnt, and what's worse, several children, five or six, perhaps, are lost. One is buried beneath, two have been suffocated, and we don't know where the other three are."