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He was quite willing, and for one whole day Perrine enjoyed the comfort of lying stretched out on the straw, behind two good trotting horses. At Essentaux she slept in a barn. The next day was Sunday, and she was up bright and early and quickly made her way to the railway station. Handing her five francs to the ticket seller she asked for a ticket to Picquigny.
I did not want to go in this miserable state...." "When must we go? Today?" asked Perrine. "No; it's too late today. We must go tomorrow morning. You go and find out the hours of the train and the price of the tickets. It is the Gare du Nord station, and the place where we get out is Picquigny." Perrine anxiously sought Grain-of-Salt.
As soon as Rosalie and Perrine entered the yard, a woman, still young, called out from the doorway: "Hurry up, you slow coach! Say, you take a time to go to Picquigny, don't you?" "That's my Aunt Zenobie," whispered Rosalie; "she's none too nice." "What yer whispering there?" yelled the disagreeable woman.
"Why shouldn't you have come?" "Because they wanted to send me to Picquigny for Mr. Bendit; he is ill." "What's the matter with him?" "He's got typhoid fever. He's very ill. Since yesterday he hasn't known what he's been talking about, and he doesn't know anybody. And I had an idea about you...." "Me! What about me?" "Something you can do...." "If there is anything I can do for Mr.
He told her it was better for her to consult a time table than to go to the station, which was a long way off. From the time table they learned that there were two trains in the morning, one at six o'clock and one at ten, and that the fare to Picquigny, third class, was nine francs twenty-five centimes.
The prioress passed Jean Valjean in review. There is nothing which examines like a downcast eye. Then she questioned him: "You are the brother?" "Yes, reverend Mother," replied Fauchelevent. "What is your name?" Fauchelevent replied: "Ultime Fauchelevent." He really had had a brother named Ultime, who was dead. "Where do you come from?" Fauchelevent replied: "From Picquigny, near Amiens."
Then they departed and went to Picquigny, and found the town, the bridge, and the castle so well fortified, that it was not likely to pass there: the French king had so well defended the passages, to the intent that the king of England should not pass the river of Somme, to fight with him at his advantage or else to famish him there. Pont-
"Come in," called out M. Vulfran, in answer to his knock. "What, you ... you at Maraucourt!" he exclaimed when he saw his visitor. "Yes, I had some business to attend to at Picquigny, and I came on here to bring you some news received from Bosnia." Perrine sat at her little table. She had gone very white; she seemed like one struck dumb. "Well?" asked M. Vulfran.
Rosalie, who was going on an important errand to Picquigny, could not return to her grandmother's at once, as she would have liked, so as to make the best arrangements that she could for Perrine; but as Perrine had nothing to do for that day, why shouldn't she go with her to Picquigny; and they would come back together; it would be a pleasure trip then.
During the days she had spent with La Rouquerie she had been able to mend her waist and her skirt, and had washed her linen and shined her shoes. Her past experience was a lesson: she must never give up hope at the darkest moment; she must always remember that there was a silver cloud, if she would only persevere. She had a long walk after she got out of the train at Picquigny.
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