But all at once came the catastrophe: Leroi died in his armchair one evening while his daughter was wheeling him from his table to his bed.

The two distracted women had not even the money to bury him.
The whole secret of their bitter want flowed forth with their tears, and they were obliged to accept the help of Guillaume, who, from that moment, became the necessary confidant and friend.

And the thing which was bound to happen did happen, in the most simple and loving manner, permitted by the mother herself, who, full of contempt for a social system which allowed those of good hearts to die of hunger, refused to admit the necessity of any social tie.

Thus there was no question of a regular marriage.

One day Guillaume, who was twenty-three years old, found himself mated to Marguerite, who was twenty; both of them handsome, healthy, and strong, adoring one another, loving work, and full of hope in the future.
From that moment a new life began.