And to a great number he was able to reply by their names: "Good morning, Jacque!" ... "Good morning, Pascal!" He knew the voices of all those who had long been in his employ. When he hesitated, which was rarely, for he knew almost all, he would stop and say: "It's you, is it not?" mentioning the speaker's name.
If he made a mistake he explained why he had done so.
Walking thus, it was a slow walk from the factories to the offices. She led him to his armchair; then he dismissed her.
"Until tomorrow," he said; "I shall want you then."
The next morning, at the same hour as on the previous day, Monsieur Paindavoine entered the workshops, guided by the manager. Perrine wanted to go and meet him, but she could not at this moment as she was busy transmitting orders from the chief machinist to the men who were working for him--masons, carpenters, smiths, mechanics. Clearly and without repetition, she explained to each one what orders were given to him; then she interpreted for the chief machinist the questions or objections which the French workmen desired to address to him.
Perrine's grandfather had drawn near. The voices stopped as the tap of his cane announced his approach, but he made a sign for them to continue the same as though he were not there.
And while Perrine, obeying him, went on talking with the men, he said quietly to the manager, though not low enough but that Perrine heard:
"Do you know, that little girl would make a fine engineer!"
"Yes," said the manager; "it's astonishing how decided and confident she is with the men."
"Yes, and she can do something else. Yesterday she translated the 'Dundee News' more intelligently than Bendit. And it was the first time that she had read trade journal stuff."
"Does anyone know who her parents were?" asked the manager.
"Perhaps Talouel does; I do not," said Vulfran.
"She is in a very miserable and pitiful condition," said the manager.
"I gave her five francs for her food and lodging."
"I am speaking of her clothes. Her waist is worn to threads; I have never seen such a skirt on anybody but a beggar, and she certainly must have made the shoes she is wearing herself."
"And her face, what is she like, Benoist?"
"No; quite the contrary. She has a very frank, honest look. She has great eyes that look as though they could pierce a wall, and yet at the same time they have a soft, trusting look."