"Stop," he said; "I think that's the fire alarm." Perrine stopped the horse. "Yes, it's a fire," he said, listening. "Do you see anything?" "I can see a lot of black smoke over by the poplars on the left," replied Perrine. "On the left? That is the way to the factory." "Yes; shall I drive that way?" asked Perrine. "Yes," replied M. Vulfran, indifferently. It was not until they reached the village that they knew where the fire was. "Don't hurry, M. Vulfran," called out a peasant; "the fire ain't in your house. It's La Tiburce's house that's on fire." La Tiburce was a drunken creature who minded little babies who were too young to be taken to the crèche. She lived in a miserable tumble-down house near the schools. "Let us go there," said M. Vulfran. They had only to follow the crowd, for the people, when they saw the flames and smoke rising, were running excitedly to the spot where the fire was. Before reaching the scene Perrine had to stop several times for fear of running someone down. Nothing in the world would have made the people get out of their way. Finally M. Vulfran got out of the carriage and, guided by Perrine, walked through the crowd. As they neared the entrance to the house, Fabry, wearing a helmet, for he was chief of the firemen, came up to them. "We've got it under control," he said, "but the house is entirely burnt, and what's worse, several children, five or six, perhaps, are lost. One is buried beneath, two have been suffocated, and we don't know where the other three are." "How did it happen?" asked M. Vulfran. "La Tiburce was asleep, drunk. She is still in that condition. The biggest of the children were playing with the matches. When the fire began to flare up some of the children got out, and La Tiburce woke up. She is so drunk she got out herself but left the little ones in the cradle." The sound of cries and loud talking could be heard in the yard. M. Vulfran wanted to go in. "Don't go in there, sir," said Fabry. "The mothers whose two children were suffocated are carrying on pretty badly." "Who are they?" "Two women who work in your factory." "I must speak to them." Leaning on Perrine's shoulder, he told her to guide him. Preceded by Fabry, who made way for them, they went into the yard where the firemen were turning the hose on the house as the flames burst forth in a crackling sound. In a far-off corner several women stood round the two mothers who were crying. Fabry brushed aside the group. M. Vulfran went up to the bereaved parents, who sat with their dead children on their knees. Then one of the women, who thought perhaps that a supreme help had come, looked up with a gleam of hope in her eyes. When she recognized M. Vulfran she raised her arm to him threateningly. "Ah," she cried, "come and see for yourself what they do to our babies while we are sweating and killing ourselves for you. Can you give us back their lives? Oh, my little boy." She burst into sobs as she bent over her child.