When the inundation had reached its highest point, Emile was far enough from the ground to see what was taking place in the valley. He concealed himself as well as he could in the foliage, to avoid being seen from the house, and imposed silence on Sylvain, who wished to call for help; for he was afraid that his parents, especially his mother, would be terribly frightened if they should discover his presence and his perilous situation. He could see his father, who was watching the effects of the _dribe_ and retreating slowly as the water rose in his garden and invaded the whole factory. He seemed to give ground regretfully before that scourge of the valley, which he had contemned, and which he pretended to contemn still. At last, he saw him distinctly, standing at one of the windows of his house with Madame Cardonnet, while the workmen scattered and fled to the high land, leaving their jackets and implements in the mud. Some, taken by surprise by the deluge in the lower floors of the factory, had gone up hastily to the roof; and, although the more far-sighted may have rejoiced secretly because that disaster promised a prolongation of their lucrative employment, the majority yielded to a natural feeling of consternation when they found the result of their labors lost or endangered. The stones, the newly rough-cast walls, the freshly-hewn timbers, everything that did not offer much resistance, was floating about at random amid eddying masses of foam. The bridges, barely finished, were swept away, being torn from the newly-built piers, which were unequal to the task of supporting them. The garden was half under water, and the sashes of the greenhouse, the boxes of flowers and the gardener's wheelbarrows could be seen sailing swiftly away among the trees. Suddenly, loud cries were heard in the factory. A huge piece of timber had been driven violently against the underpinning of the principal machine, and the building seemed on the point of falling in under the violent shock. There were at least twelve persons, men, women and children, on the roof. They all shrieked and wept. Emile felt a cold perspiration start out all over him. Heedless of the perils to which he himself was exposed, if the oak should be uprooted, he was horrified at the impending fate of those families whom he saw running wildly about in their distress. He was on the point of jumping into the water to fly to their assistance. But he heard his father's powerful voice shouting to them from the stoop, with the aid of a speaking-trumpet. "Don't stir; the raft is nearly finished; there is no danger where you are." Such was the master's ascendancy that they became calm, and Emile himself instinctively yielded to it.