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Another officer, M. de Noyelle, was sent to the West to continue the work of exploration. Noyelle spent two years in the West without adding anything to the information La Vérendrye had gained.
The people on the ground floor came out to see what was the matter, and finally everyone in the house was awake. At last La Noyelle was dragged into the room, crying out in despair. "What have I done to you that you should be so unkind to me?" Ignoring her complaints, they undressed her and put her into bed, but even then she did not sleep, but continued to moan and cry.
Most of the talk was rather vague to Perrine, not knowing the persons to whom it applied, but she soon gathered that "Skinny", "Judas", and "Sneak" were all one and the same man, and that man was Talouel, the foreman. The factory hands evidently considered him a bully; they all hated him, yet feared him. "Let's go to sleep," at last said one. "Yes, why not?" "La Noyelle hasn't come in yet."
Men, women and children went towards the factories, some smoking their pipes, others munching a crust of bread, the greater number chattering loudly. In one of the groups Perrine caught sight of Rosalie in company with La Noyelle. She joined them. "Why, where have you been?" asked Rosalie in surprise. "I got up early so as to take a walk," Perrine replied. "You did? I went to look for you."
There were also some boxes and baskets under the bed. If the lodgers had any underwear they could make use of these, but as Perrine had only what she was wearing, the nail at the head of the bed was sufficient. "They're all honest here," remarked Rosalie, "and if La Noyelle talks in the night it's 'cause she's been drinking; she's a chatterbox. Tomorrow you get up with the others.
Now step up, please." They climbed up the stairs and Perrine opened a door and gently drew M. Vulfran inside a room and closed the door again. They stood in a suffocating, evil-smelling room. "Who is there?" asked a weary voice. Pressing his hand, Perrine warned M. Vulfran not to speak. The same voice spoke: "Get into bed, La Noyelle. How late you are."
How much better to be here than lying between Mother Françoise's hard sheets, listening to the complaints of La Noyelle and her friends in that dreadful atmosphere which even now seemed to assail her nostrils. She laid down on the ferns, curled up in a corner against the soft walls covered with reeds, then closed her eyes. Before long she felt a soft numbness creeping over her.
The lady of his thoughts was the widow of Pontus de Noyelle, Seigneur de Bours, who had once saved the citadel of Antwerp, and afterwards sold that city and himself. His rival was no other than the great Seigneur de Champagny, brother of Cardinal Granvelle, eminent as soldier, diplomatist, and financier, but now growing old, not in affluent circumstances, and much troubled with the gout.
But Laide would not be tempted. "No, come on to bed," she said. The woman continued to insist. They argued for a long time, La Noyelle repeating the words, "a little glass." "I want to go to sleep," said one of the girls in bed. "How long is this going to keep up? And we got to be up early tomorrow." "Oh, Lord! and it's like this every Sunday," sighed another.
The lady of his thoughts was the widow of Pontus de Noyelle, Seigneur de Bours, who had once saved the citadel of Antwerp, and afterwards sold that city and himself. His rival was no other than the great Seigneur de Champagny, brother of Cardinal Granvelle, eminent as soldier, diplomatist, and financier, but now growing old, not in affluent circumstances, and much troubled with the gout.
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