There was a period of silence. M. Hennebeau, who had drawn his easy-chair up to the fireplace, was rapidly looking them over and endeavouring to recall their faces. He had recognized Pierron, who was hidden in the last row, and his eyes rested on Étienne who was seated in front of him.
"Well," he asked, "what have you to say to me?"
He had expected to hear the young man speak and he was so surprised to see Maheu come forward that he could not avoid adding:
"What! you, a good workman who have always been so sensible, one of the old Montsou people whose family has worked in the mine since the first stroke of the axe! Ah! it's a pity, I'm sorry that you are at the head of the discontented."
Maheu listened with his eyes down. Then he began, at first in a low and hesitating voice.
"It is j
