"But you were to rest in this chamber, madame."
"Do you think I can rest when I do not know whether I am wife or widow?"
The young girls looked at each other with piteous eyes.
"This is a terrible time, madame."
"It will, however, pass by, in some fashion."
"But what shall I do for you, madame? Where will you sit? Is there nothing you require?"
"Yes, I am thirsty. Is there not running water somewhere in this mill?"
"There is the flume-chamber overhead," said Angèle. "I will set the light here, and go down for a cup, madame."
"Do not. We will go to the flume-chamber together. My hands, my throat, my eyes burn. Go on, Angèle, show me the way."
Laurent's room, therefore, was left in darkness, holding unseen its best furniture, the family's holiday clothes of huge grained flannel, and the little yellow spinning-wheel, with its pile of unspun wool like forgotten snow.