The girl's defiant attitude only incited the workmen to jeer the more.

Silvere still had his fists clenched, and matters might have become serious if a poacher from the Seille, who had been sitting on a heap of stones at the roadside awaiting the order to march, had not come to the girl's assistance.
"The little one's right," he said.

"Chantegreil was one of us.

I knew him.

Nobody knows the real facts of his little matter.