It was a woman's voice,—the voice of the mother.
[III.]
MUTTERINGS AMONG THE PEASANTS.
Michelle Fléchard had mingled with the crowd. She had not listened, but some things one may hear without listening. She had heard the word "Tourgue," and raised her head.
"What's that? Did he say La Tourgue?"
People looked at her. The ragged woman seemed like one dazed.
Voices were heard to murmur, "She looks like a brigand."
A peasant woman, carrying a basket of buckwheat cakes, went up to her and whispered,—
"Keep still."