One o’clock
At last , still looking crushed , Dubuche shook hands with his old comrades ; and retaining Claude 's hand in his , he concluded , as if making a simple statement of fact quite devoid of anger : ` Good-bye ; try to get out of worry ! As for me , I 've spoilt my life . ' And they watched him walk back towards the house , pushing the perambulator , and supporting Gaston , who was already stumbling with fatigue -- he , Dubuche , himself having his back bent and the heavy tread of an old man . One o'clock was striking , and they both hurried down towards Bennecourt , saddened and ravenous . But mournfulness awaited them there as well ; a murderous blast had swept over the place , both Faucheurs , husband and wife , and old Porrette , were all dead ; and the inn , having fallen into the hands of that goose Melie , was becoming repugnant with its filth and coarseness . An abominable repast was served them , an omelette with hairs in it , and cutlets smelling of grease , in the centre of the common room , to which an open window admitted the pestilential odour of a dung heap , while the place was so full of flies that they positively blackened the tables . The heat of the burning afternoon came in with the stench , and Claude and Sandoz did not even feel the courage to order any coffee ; they fled .