"And what about Monneau's lot?" grinned the girl.
"Oh, Monneau's a sly dog," answered the man; "he counts on us others watching out for his. He's not going to be here tonight. Serve him right if he finds all his gone!"
All three laughed heartily. They were not over-anxious that Monneau should prosper. Didn't he profit by their watch to take his own slumbers in peace?
"That'll be a joke, eh?"
"Wait for me," said the girl. "I won't be a jiffy; then we'll go together."
The man and the woman waited, and in a few minutes the girl had finished her task and the two carts, laden with artichokes, went towards the village. Perrine stood in the deserted road looking at the two fields, which presented such a difference in appearance. One was completely stripped of its vegetables; the other was filled with a splendid crop. At the end of the field was a little hut made of branches where the man who watched the field had slept. Perrine decided that she would stay there for the night, now that she knew it would not be occupied by the watch. She did not fear that she would be disturbed, yet she dared not take possession of the place until it was quite dark. She sat down by a ditch and waited, thankful that she had found what she wanted. Then at last, when it was quite dark and all was quiet, she picked her way carefully over the beds of artichokes and slipped into the hut. It was better inside than she had hoped, for the ground was covered with straw and there was a wooden box that would serve her for a pillow.
Ever since she had run from the baker's shop it had seemed to her that she was like a tracked animal, and more than once she had looked behind her with fear, half expecting to see the police on her heels.
She felt now in the hut that she was safe. Her nerves relaxed. After a few minutes she realized that she had another cause for anxiety. She was hungry, very hungry. While she was tramping along the roads, overwhelmed by her great loss, it had seemed to her that she would never want to eat or drink again. She felt the pangs of hunger now and she had only one sou left. How could she live on one sou for five or six days? This was a very serious question. But then, had she not found shelter for the night; perhaps she would find food for the morrow.
She closed her eyes, her long black lashes heavy with tears. The last thing at night she had always thought of her dead father; now it was the spirits of both her father and her mother that seemed to hover around her. Again and again she stretched out her arms in the darkness to them, and then, worn out with fatigue, with a sob she dropped off to sleep.
But although she was tired out, her slumbers were broken. She turned and tossed on the straw. Every now and again the rumbling of a cart on the road would wake her, and sometimes some mysterious noise, which in the silence of the night made her heart beat quickly. Then it seemed to her that she heard a cart stop near the hut on the road. She raised herself on her elbow to listen.