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Updated: May 14, 2025
There was profound peace, the certainty that nobody would come, that no ring at the bell would disturb them at any moment of the day. Claude carried this fear of coming into contact with people so far as to avoid passing Faucheur's inn, for he dreaded lest he might run against some party of chums from Paris. Not a soul came, however, throughout the livelong summer.
A week later she had gone to Faucheur's to buy a pound of vermicelli, and was lingering on her way back, gossiping with a neighbour, with her child on her arm, when a gentleman who alighted from the ferry-boat approached and asked her: 'Does not Monsieur Claude Lantier live near here? She was taken aback, and simply answered: 'Yes, monsieur; if you'll kindly follow me
The heat of the burning afternoon came in with the stench, and Claude and Sandoz did not even feel the courage to order any coffee; they fled. 'And you who used to extol old Mother Faucheur's omelettes! said Sandoz. 'The place is done for. We are going for a turn, eh? Claude was inclined to refuse.
He abandoned his work, went out alone, and prowled in spite of himself about Faucheur's inn, at the spot where the ferry-boat landed its passengers, as if ever expecting to see all Paris come ashore there. He had Paris on the brain; he went there every month and returned desolate, unable to work.
They had barely time to catch the train that was to take them back to Paris. And the old peasant, who was Madame Faucheur's father, accompanied them along the river bank, and as they were stepping into the ferry-boat, shouted to them, after quite an inward struggle: 'You know, I'll make it two hundred and fifty francs send me some people.
He no longer avoided passing in front of Faucheur's inn; he even allowed himself to be waylaid at times by old Porrette, and to accept a glass of white wine at the inn, and his glance scoured the room as if, despite the season, he had been looking for some comrades of yore, who had arrived there, perchance, that morning.
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