“But his courage, or presence of mind rather, had begun to fail him a little. He had met with such disappointment, and was confused and shocked by what he had seen and heard, and by the constant warnings to ‘beware’ of he scarcely knew what. It was evident that his countrified air and anxious face made him remarked, and though he had no fear for himself, he felt more than ever that all chance of finding and rescuing Edmée or her mother hung on him alone. He was faint and hungry too—he had had nothing for many hours but his cup of coffee and bread—and he felt as if even the fumes of the wine, for he distinguished several blouses drinking inside, would mount to his head, and make him feel still more confused, and he hung about irresolutely, even while conscious that his doing so might attract attention. Happily for him, before any one inside had noticed him, a servant-maid with a basket on her arm came out of the shop and passed down the street. Pierre followed her quickly.
”‘Pardon,’ said he, lifting his cap—a vague idea had struck him that this perhaps might be the Marguerite he was in search of, but one glance at the girl’s round rosy face told him he was wrong; ‘is there anywhere near here I can get anything to eat at?’
”‘Follow me,’ said the girl, who seemed a matter-of-fact person, ‘there is an eating-house round the corner.’
”‘Do you live there?’ said Pierre, glancing back to the wine-shop.
”‘To be sure. I am the servant.’
”‘Do you know any one called Marguerite, who comes there sometimes?’
“The girl shook her head.
”‘She comes no more,’ she said. ‘She and the mistress, the Citizeness Victorine, had words one day, and since then she comes no more.’
”‘Do you know where she is now?’
“Again the stolid young person shook her head.