Silvere shook hands with some of them.

They must have thought he had heard of the new route they had chosen, and had come to meet them.

Miette, whose face was half-concealed by her hood, was scrutinised rather inquisitively.
"Why, it's Chantegreil," at last said one of the men from the Faubourg of Plassans, "the niece of Rebufat, the _meger_[*] of the Jas-Meiffren." [*] A _meger_ is a farmer in Provence who shares the expenses and profits of his farm with the owner of the land.
"Where have you sprung from, gadabout ?" cried another voice.
Silvere, intoxicated with enthusiasm, had not thought of the distress which his sweetheart would feel at the jeers of the workmen.

Miette, all confusion, looked at him as if to implore his aid.

But before he could even open his lips another voice rose from the crowd, brutally exclaiming: "Her father's at the galleys; we don't want the daughter of a thief and murderer amongst us." At this Miette turned dreadfully pale.
"You lie!" she muttered.