The young woman was completing her bundle of dirty clothes.

But when she went to take Lantier's shirts and socks from the bottom of the trunk, he called to her to leave them alone.
"Leave my things, d'ye hear?
I don't want 'em touched!" "What's it you don't want touched ?" she asked, rising up.

"I suppose you don't mean to put these filthy things on again, do you?
They must be washed." She studied his boyishly handsome face, now so rigid that it seemed nothing could ever soften it.

He angrily grabbed his things from her and threw them back into the trunk, saying: "Just obey me, for once! I tell you I won't have 'em touched!" "But why ?" she asked, turning pale, a terrible suspicion crossing her mind.

"You don't need your shirts now, you're not going away.