"Maxime," he said involuntarily and half-eagerly, for he and the lad had been great friends.
Maxime's face brightened, then became clouded; he stood still an instant, and presently, turning round and looking at Pomfrette askance, ran away behind the house, saying: "Non, non!" Pomfrette drew his rough knuckles across his forehead in a dazed way; then, as the significance of the thing came home to him, he broke out with a fierce oath, and strode away down the yard and into the road.
On the way to his house he met Duclosse the mealman and Garotte the lime-burner.

He wondered what they would do.

He could see the fat, wheezy Duclosse hesitate, but the arid, alert Garotte had determination in every motion and look.

They came nearer; they were about to pass; there was no sign.
Pomfrette stopped short.

"Good-day, lime-burner; good-day, Duclosse," he said, looking straight at them.
Garotte made no reply, but walked straight on.