Loud voices were heard in the crowd; then suddenly a voice said,--

"There is one here who can tell."

"Who?"

"Cocoleu. He was there from the beginning. It was he who went and
brought the children of the countess out of their room. What has become
of him?--Cocoleu, Cocoleu!"

One must have lived in the country, among these simple-minded peasants,
to understand the excitement and the fury of all these men and women as
they crowded around the ruins of Valpinson. People in town do not mind
brigands, in general: they have their gas, their strong doors, and
the police. They are generally little afraid of fire. They have their
fire-alarms; and at the first spark the neighbor cries, "Fire!" The
engines come racing up; and water comes forth as if by magic. But it
is very different in the country: here every man is constantly under
a sense of his isolation. A simple latch protects his door; and no one
watches over his safety at night. If a murderer should attack him, his
cries could bring no help. If fire should break out, his house would be
burnt down before the neighbors could reach it; and he is happy who can
save his own life and that of his family. Hence all these good people,
whom the mayor's words had deeply excited, were eager to find out the
only man who knew anything about this calamity, Cocoleu.

He was well known among them, and for many years.

There was not one among them who had not given him a piece of bread, or
a bowl of soup, when he was hungry; not one of them had ever refused