WHEN would Fabry, the engineer, return? That was the question that Perrine anxiously asked herself, for on that day her role of interpreter to the English machinists would terminate.

That of translator of newspaper articles to M. Vulfran, would that continue until M. Bendit had recovered from his illness? Here was another question that made her even still more anxious.

It was on Thursday, when she reached the factories with the two machinists, that she found Monsieur Fabry in the workshop busy inspecting the work that had already been done. Discreetly she waited at a distance, not taking part in any of the explanations that were being made, but all the same the chief machinist drew her into the conversation.

"Without this little girl's help," he said, "we should have stood here waiting with our arms folded."

Monsieur Fabry then looked at her, but he said nothing, and she on her side did not dare ask him what she had to do now, whether she was to stay at Saint-Pipoy or return to Maraucourt.

She stood there undecided, thinking that as it was M. Vulfran who had sent for her, it would be he who would send her away or keep her.

He came at his usual hour, led by the manager, who gave him an account of the orders that the engineer had given and the observations that he had made. But it appeared that he was not completely satisfied.

"It is a pity that the little girl is not here," he said in annoyance.

"But she is here," replied the manager, making a sign to Perrine to approach.

"Why was it you did not go back to Maraucourt, girl?" he asked.

"I thought that I ought not to leave here until you told me to go back," she replied.

"That was quite right," he said. "You must be here waiting for me when I come...."

He stopped for a second, then went on: "And I shall also need you at Maraucourt. You can go back this evening, and tomorrow be at the office. I will tell you what you will have to do."

When she had interpreted the orders which he wished to give to the machinists, he left, and that day she was not required to read the newspapers.

But what did that matter? Hadn't her grandfather said that on the morrow he would need her at Maraucourt?

"I shall need you at Maraucourt!" She kept repeating these words over and over again as she tramped along the roads over which William had driven her in the trap.

How was she going to be employed? She imagined all sorts of ways, but she could not feel certain of anything, except that she was not to be sent back to push trucks. That was a sure thing; for the rest she would have to wait. But she need not wait in a state of feverish anxiety, for from her grandfather's manner she might hope for the best. If she, a poor little girl, could only have enough wisdom to follow the course that her mother had mapped out for her before dying, slowly and carefully, without trying to hasten events, her life, which she held in her own hands, would be what she herself made it. She must remember this always, in everything she said, every time she had to make a resolution, every time she took a step forward, and each time she took this step she must take it without asking advice of anyone.

On her way back to Maraucourt she turned all this over in her little head. She walked slowly, stopping when she wanted to pick a flower that grew beneath the hedge, or when, in looking over a fence, she could see a pretty one that seemed to be beckoning to her from the meadow. Now and again she got rather excited; then she would quicken her step; then she slowed up again, telling herself that there was no occasion for her to hurry. Here was one thing she had to do—she must make it a rule, make it a habit, not to give way to an impulse. Oh, she would have to be very wise. Her pretty face was very grave as she walked along, her hands full of lovely wild flowers.

She found her island the same as she had left it, each thing in its place. The birds had even shown respect for the berries beneath the willow tree which had ripened in her absence. Here was something for her supper. She had not counted upon having berries.

She had returned at an earlier hour than when she had left the factory, so she did not feel inclined to go to bed as soon as her supper was over. She sat by the pond in the quiet of the evening, watching the night slowly fall.

Although she had been away only a short time, something seemed to have occurred to disturb the quietness of her little shelter. In the fields there was no longer the solemn silence of the night which had struck her on the first days that she had installed herself on the island. Previously, all she could hear in the entire valley, on the pond, in the big trees and the foliage, was the mysterious rustling of the birds as they returned to the nests for the night. Now the silence was disturbed by all kinds of noises—the blow of the forge, the grind of the axle, the swish of a whip, and the murmur of voices.

As she had tramped along the roads from Saint-Pipoy she had noticed that the harvest had commenced in the fields that were most exposed, and soon the mowers would come as far as her little nook, which was shaded by the big trees.

She would certainly have to leave her tiny home; it would not be possible for her to live there longer. Whether she had to leave on account of the harvesters or the bird catchers, it was the same thing, just a matter of days.

Although for the last few days she had got used to having sheets on her bed, and a room with a window, and closed doors, she slept that night on her bed of ferns as though she had never left it, and it was only when the sun rose in the heavens that she awoke.

When she reached the factory, instead of following her companions to where the trucks stood, she made her way to the general offices, wondering what she should do—go in, or wait outside.

She decided to do the latter. If they saw her standing outside the doors, someone would see her and call her in.

She waited there for almost an hour. Finally she saw Talouel, who asked her roughly what she was doing there.

"Monsieur Vulfran told me to come this morning to the office to see him," she said.

"Outside there, is not the office," he said.

"I was waiting to be called in," she replied.

"Come up then."

She went up the steps, following him in.

"What did you do at Saint-Pipoy?" he asked, turning to look at her.

She told him in what capacity M. Vulfran had employed her.

"Monsieur Fabry then had been messing up things?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean—you don't know? Are you a silly?"

"Maybe I am."

"You're not, and you know it; and if you don't reply it's because you don't want to. Don't forget who is talking to you; do you know what I am here?"

"Yes, the foreman."

"That means the master. And as your master you do as I tell you. I am going to know all. Those who don't obey I fire! Remember that!"

This was indeed the man whom she had heard the factory girls talking about when she had slept in that terrible room at Mother FranÇoise's. The tyrant who wanted to be everything in the works, not only at Maraucourt, but at Saint-Pipoy, at Bacourt, at Flexelles, everywhere, and who would employ any means to uphold his authority, even disputing it with that of Monsieur Vulfran's.

"I ask you what Monsieur Fabry has been doing?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"I cannot tell you because I do not know myself. But I can tell you what observations Monsieur Vulfran had me interpret for the machinists."

She repeated what she had had to tell the men without omitting a single thing.

"Is that all?"

"That is all."

"Did Monsieur Vulfran make you translate his letters?"

"No, he did not. I only read some articles from the 'Dundee News' and a little paper all through; it was called the 'Dundee Trades Report Association.'"

"You know if you don't tell me the truth, all the truth, I'll get it pretty quick, and then ... Ouste! off you go."

"Why should I not speak the truth?" asked Perrine.

"It's up to you to do so," he retorted. "I've warned you ... remember."

"I'll remember," said Perrine, "I assure you."

"Very good. Now go and sit down on that bench over there. If the boss really needs you he'll remember that he told you to come here this morning. He is busy talking to some of his men now."

She sat on the bench for almost an hour, not daring to move so long as Talouel was near. What a dreadful man! How afraid she was of him! But it would never do to let him see that she was afraid. He wanted her to spy on her employer, and then tell him what was in the letters that she translated for him!

This indeed might well scare her, yet there was something to be pleased about. Talouel evidently thought that she would have the letters to translate; that meant that her grandfather would have her with him all the time that M. Bendit was ill.

While she sat there waiting she caught sight of William several times. When he was not fulfilling the duties of coachman he acted as useful man to M. Vulfran. Each time that he appeared on the scene Perrine thought that he had come to fetch her, but he passed without saying a word to her. He seemed always in a hurry.

Finally some workingmen came out of M. Vulfran's office with a very dissatisfied expression on their faces. Then William came and beckoned to her and showed her into M. Vulfran's office. She found her grandfather seated at a large table covered with ledgers, at the side of which were paper weights stamped with large letters in relief. In this way the blind man was able to find what his eyes could not see.

Without announcing her, William had pushed Perrine inside the room and closed the door after her. She waited a moment, then she thought that she had better let M. Vulfran know that she was there.

"Monsieur," she said, "I am here ... Aurelie."

"Yes," he said, "I recognized your step. Come nearer and listen to me. I am interested in you. You have told me your troubles and I think you have been very courageous. From the translations that you have made for me, and the manner in which you have acted as interpreter for the machinists, I see that you are intelligent. Now that I am blind, I need someone to see for me, to tell me about things I wish to know, and also about things that strike them also. I had hoped that William would have been able to do this for me, but unfortunately he drinks too much and I can't keep him.

"Now, would you like to take the position that he has been unable to hold? To commence with, you will have ninety francs a month. If I am pleased with you I may do more for you."

Overwhelmed with joy, Perrine stood before the blind man unable to say a word.

"Why don't you speak?" he said at last.

"I can't ... I don't know what to say ... to thank you," she said. Her voice broke. "I feel so...."

"Yes, yes," he said. "I know how you feel. Your voice tells me that. I am pleased. That is as good as a promise that you will do all you can to give me satisfaction. Now let us change the subject. Have you written to your grandparents?"

"No," said Perrine, hesitatingly; "I ... I did not have any paper."

"Oh, very well. You will be able to find all you need in Monsieur Bendit's office. When you write tell them exactly what position you occupy in my employ. If they have anything better to offer you, they will send for you; if not, they will let you remain here."

"Oh, certainly ... I am sure I shall stay...."

"Yes, I think so. I think it will be best for you. As you will be in the offices, you will be in communication with my employÉs; you can take my orders to them, and you will also have to go out with me, so in that case you cannot wear your factory clothes, which Monsieur Benoist tells me are rather shabby."

"They are in rags," said Perrine; "but I assure you, sir, it is not because I am lazy or that I don't care...."

"I am sure of that," replied M. Vulfran. "Now, as all that will be changed, you go to the cashier in the counting house, and he will give you a money order. You can go then to Madame Lachaise in the village and get some clothes, some linen, hats and shoes; what you need...."

Perrine was listening as though it were not an old blind man with a grave face that was speaking, but a beautiful fairy who was holding over her her magic wand.

She was silent. Then his voice recalled her to the reality.

"You are free to choose what you like, but bear in mind the choice you make will guide me in acquiring a knowledge of your character. Now you can go and see about your things at once. I shall not need you until tomorrow."