"She's disappeared. I suspected something this morning early. But I expect I had had a glass too much; I did not give it another thought. Others have since seen what I did. The painter has been cut . . . . It happened during the night. And they've made off. No one saw or heard them."
The two women exchanged glances; and the same thought occurred to both of them: François and Stéphane Maroux had taken to flight.
Honorine muttered between her teeth:
"Yes, yes, that's it: he understands how to work the boat."
Véronique perhaps felt a certain relief at knowing that the boy had gone and that she would not see him again. But Honorine, seized with a renewed fear, exclaimed:
"Then . . . then what are we to do?"
"You must leave at once, Ma'me Honorine. The boats are ready . . . everybody's packing up. There'll be no one in the village by eleven o'clock."
Véronique interposed:
"Honorine's not in a condition to travel."
"Yes, I am; I'm better," the Breton woman declared.