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diff --git a/5744-h/5744-h.htm b/5744-h/5744-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..beb457d --- /dev/null +++ b/5744-h/5744-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16126 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Fat and the Thin, by Émile Zola</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + +body { margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + text-align: justify; } + +h1, h2, h3, h4, h5 {text-align: center; font-style: normal; font-weight: +normal; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: .5em; margin-bottom: .5em;} + +h1 {font-size: 300%; + margin-top: 0.6em; + margin-bottom: 0.6em; + letter-spacing: 0.12em; + word-spacing: 0.2em; + text-indent: 0em;} +h2 {font-size: 150%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 1em;} +h3 {font-size: 130%; margin-top: 1em;} +h4 {font-size: 120%;} +h5 {font-size: 110%;} + +.no-break {page-break-before: avoid;} /* for epubs */ + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always; margin-top: 4em;} + +hr {width: 80%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em;} + +p {text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: 0.25em; + margin-bottom: 0.25em; } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.right {text-align: right; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +p.footnote {font-size: 90%; + text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; } + +a:link {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:visited {color:blue; text-decoration:none} +a:hover {color:red} + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Fat and the Thin, by Émile Zola</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Fat and the Thin</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Émile Zola</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: Ernest Alfred Vizetelly</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 22, 2002 [eBook #5744]<br /> +[Most recently updated: May 25, 2021]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Dagny, John Bickers and David Widger</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FAT AND THE THIN ***</div> + +<h1>The Fat and the Thin</h1> + +<h3>(LE VENTRE DE PARIS)</h3> + +<h2 class="no-break">by Émile Zola</h2> + +<h3>Translated, With An Introduction, By Ernest Alfred Vizetelly</h3> + +<hr /> + +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<table summary="" style=""> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#pref01">INTRODUCTION</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap01">CHAPTER I</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap02">CHAPTER II</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap03">CHAPTER III</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap04">CHAPTER IV</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap05">CHAPTER V</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> +<td> <a href="#chap06">CHAPTER VI</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<p class="letter"> +Let me have men about me that are fat: Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep +o’ nights: Yond’ Cassius has a lean and hungry look; He thinks too +much: such men are dangerous. SHAKESPEARE: <i>Julius Caesar</i>, act i, sc. 2. +</p> + +<hr /> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="pref01"></a>INTRODUCTION</h2> + +<p> +“THE FAT AND THE THIN,” or, to use the French title, “Le +Ventre de Paris,” is a story of life in and around those vast Central +Markets which form a distinctive feature of modern Paris. Even the reader who +has never crossed the Channel must have heard of the Parisian <i>Halles</i>, +for much has been written about them, not only in English books on the French +metropolis, but also in English newspapers, magazines, and reviews; so that +few, I fancy, will commence the perusal of the present volume without having, +at all events, some knowledge of its subject matter. +</p> + +<p> +The Paris markets form such a world of their own, and teem at certain hours of +the day and night with such exuberance of life, that it was only natural they +should attract the attention of a novelist like M. Zola, who, to use his own +words, delights “in any subject in which vast masses of people can be +shown in motion.” Mr. Sherard tells us[*] that the idea of “Le +Ventre de Paris” first occurred to M. Zola in 1872, when he used +continually to take his friend Paul Alexis for a ramble through the Halles. I +have in my possession, however, an article written by M. Zola some five or six +years before that time, and in this one can already detect the germ of the +present work; just as the motif of another of M. Zola’s novels, “La +Joie de Vivre,” can be traced to a short story written for a Russian +review. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] <i>Emile Zola: a Biographical and Critical Study</i>, by Robert Harborough +Sherard, pp. 103, 104. London, Chatto & Windus, 1893. +</p> + +<p> +Similar instances are frequently to be found in the writings of English as well +as French novelists, and are, of course, easily explained. A young man unknown +to fame, and unable to procure the publication of a long novel, often contents +himself with embodying some particular idea in a short sketch or story, which +finds its way into one or another periodical, where it lies buried and +forgotten by everybody—excepting its author. Time goes by, however, the +writer achieves some measure of success, and one day it occurs to him to +elaborate and perfect that old idea of his, only a faint <i>apercu</i> of +which, for lack of opportunity, he had been able to give in the past. With a +little research, no doubt, an interesting essay might be written on these +literary resuscitations; but if one except certain novelists who are so +deficient in ideas that they continue writing and rewriting the same story +throughout their lives, it will, I think, be generally found that the revivals +in question are due to some such reason as that given above. +</p> + +<p> +It should be mentioned that the article of M. Zola’s young days to which +I have referred is not one on market life in particular, but one on violets. It +contains, however, a vigorous, if brief, picture of the Halles in the small +hours of the morning, and is instinct with that realistic descriptive power of +which M. Zola has since given so many proofs. We hear the rumbling and +clattering of the market carts, we see the piles of red meat, the baskets of +silvery fish, the mountains of vegetables, green and white; in a few paragraphs +the whole market world passes in kaleidoscopic fashion before our eyes by the +pale, dancing light of the gas lamps and the lanterns. Several years after the +paper I speak of was published, when M. Zola began to issue “Le Ventre de +Paris,” M. Tournachon, better known as Nadar, the aeronaut and +photographer, rushed into print to proclaim that the realistic novelist had +simply pilfered his ideas from an account of the Halles which he (Tournachon) +had but lately written. M. Zola, as is so often his wont, scorned to reply to +this charge of plagiarism; but, had he chosen, he could have promptly settled +the matter by producing his own forgotten article. +</p> + +<p> +At the risk of passing for a literary ghoul, I propose to exhume some portion +of the paper in question, as, so far as translation can avail, it will show how +M. Zola wrote and what he thought in 1867. After the description of the markets +to which I have alluded, there comes the following passage:— +</p> + +<p> +I was gazing at the preparations for the great daily orgy of Paris when I +espied a throng of people bustling suspiciously in a corner. A few lanterns +threw a yellow light upon this crowd. Children, women, and men with +outstretched hands were fumbling in dark piles which extended along the +footway. I thought that those piles must be remnants of meat sold for a +trifling price, and that all those wretched people were rushing upon them to +feed. I drew near, and discovered my mistake. The heaps were not heaps of meat, +but heaps of violets. All the flowery poesy of the streets of Paris lay there, +on that muddy pavement, amidst mountains of food. The gardeners of the suburbs +had brought their sweet-scented harvests to the markets and were disposing of +them to the hawkers. From the rough fingers of their peasant growers the +violets were passing to the dirty hands of those who would cry them in the +streets. At winter time it is between four and six o’clock in the morning +that the flowers of Paris are thus sold at the Halles. Whilst the city sleeps +and its butchers are getting all ready for its daily attack of indigestion, a +trade in poetry is plied in dark, dank corners. When the sun rises the bright +red meat will be displayed in trim, carefully dressed joints, and the violets, +mounted on bits of osier, will gleam softly within their elegant collars of +green leaves. But when they arrive, in the dark night, the bullocks, already +ripped open, discharge black blood, and the trodden flowers lie prone upon the +footways. . . . I noticed just in front of me one large bunch which had slipped +off a neighbouring mound and was almost bathing in the gutter. I picked it up. +Underneath, it was soiled with mud; the greasy, fetid sewer water had left +black stains upon the flowers. And then, gazing at these exquisite daughters of +our gardens and our woods, astray amidst all the filth of the city, I began to +ponder. On what woman’s bosom would those wretched flowerets open and +bloom? Some hawker would dip them in a pail of water, and of all the bitter +odours of the Paris mud they would retain but a slight pungency, which would +remain mingled with their own sweet perfume. The water would remove their +stains, they would pale somewhat, and become a joy both for the smell and for +the sight. Nevertheless, in the depths of each corolla there would still remain +some particle of mud suggestive of impurity. And I asked myself how much love +and passion was represented by all those heaps of flowers shivering in the +bleak wind. To how many loving ones, and how many indifferent ones, and how +many egotistical ones, would all those thousands and thousands of violets go! +In a few hours’ time they would be scattered to the four corners of +Paris, and for a paltry copper the passers-by would purchase a glimpse and a +whiff of springtide in the muddy streets. +</p> + +<p> +Imperfect as the rendering may be, I think that the above passage will show +that M. Zola was already possessed of a large amount of his acknowledged +realistic power at the early date I have mentioned. I should also have liked to +quote a rather amusing story of a priggish Philistine who ate violets with oil +and vinegar, strongly peppered, but considerations of space forbid; so I will +pass to another passage, which is of more interest and importance. Both French +and English critics have often contended that although M. Zola is a married +man, he knows very little of women, as there has virtually never been any +<i>feminine romance</i> in his life. There are those who are aware of the +contrary, but whose tongues are stayed by considerations of delicacy and +respect. Still, as the passage I am now about to reproduce is signed and +acknowledged as fact by M. Zola himself, I see no harm in slightly raising the +veil from a long-past episode in the master’s life:— +</p> + +<p> +The light was rising, and as I stood there before that footway transformed into +a bed of flowers my strange night-fancies gave place to recollections at once +sweet and sad. I thought of my last excursion to Fontenay-aux-Roses, with the +loved one, the good fairy of my twentieth year. Springtime was budding into +birth, the tender foliage gleamed in the pale April sunshine. The little +pathway skirting the hill was bordered by large fields of violets. As one +passed along, a strong perfume seemed to penetrate one and make one languid. +<i>She</i> was leaning on my arm, faint with love from the sweet odour of the +flowers. A whiteness hovered over the country-side, little insects buzzed in +the sunshine, deep silence fell from the heavens, and so low was the sound of +our kisses that not a bird in all the hedges showed sign of fear. At a turn of +the path we perceived some old bent women, who with dry, withered hands were +hurriedly gathering violets and throwing them into large baskets. She who was +with me glanced longingly at the flowers, and I called one of the women. +“You want some violets?” said she. “How much? A pound?” +</p> + +<p> +God of Heaven! She sold her flowers by the pound! We fled in deep distress. It +seemed as though the country-side had been transformed into a huge +grocer’s shop. . . . Then we ascended to the woods of Verrieres, and +there, in the grass, under the soft, fresh foliage, we found some tiny violets +which seemed to be dreadfully afraid, and contrived to hide themselves with all +sorts of artful ruses. During two long hours I scoured the grass and peered +into every nook, and as soon as ever I found a fresh violet I carried it to +her. She bought it of me, and the price that I exacted was a kiss. . . . And I +thought of all those things, of all that happiness, amidst the hubbub of the +markets of Paris, before those poor dead flowers whose graveyard the footway +had become. I remembered my good fairy, who is now dead and gone, and the +little bouquet of dry violets which I still preserve in a drawer. When I +returned home I counted their withered stems: there were twenty of them, and +over my lips there passed the gentle warmth of my loved one’s twenty +kisses. +</p> + +<p> +And now from violets I must, with a brutality akin to that which M. Zola +himself displays in some of his transitions, pass to very different things, for +some time back a well-known English poet and essayist wrote of the present work +that it was redolent of pork, onions, and cheese. To one of his sensitive +temperament, with a muse strictly nourished on sugar and water, such gross +edibles as pork and cheese and onions were peculiarly offensive. That humble +plant the onion, employed to flavour wellnigh every savoury dish, can assuredly +need no defence; in most European countries, too, cheese has long been known as +the poor man’s friend; whilst as for pork, apart from all other +considerations, I can claim for it a distinct place in English literature. A +greater essayist by far than the critic to whom I am referring, a certain Mr. +Charles Lamb, of the India House, has left us an immortal page on the origin of +roast pig and crackling. And, when everything is considered, I should much like +to know why novels should be confined to the aspirations of the soul, and why +they should not also treat of the requirements of our physical nature? From the +days of antiquity we have all known what befell the members when, guided by the +brain, they were foolish enough to revolt against the stomach. The latter plays +a considerable part not only in each individual organism, but also in the life +of the world. Over and over again—I could adduce a score of historical +examples—it has thwarted the mightiest designs of the human mind. We +mortals are much addicted to talking of our minds and our souls and treating +our bodies as mere dross. But I hold—it is a personal opinion—that +in the vast majority of cases the former are largely governed by the last. I +conceive, therefore, that a novel which takes our daily sustenance as one of +its themes has the best of all <i>raisons d’être</i>. A foreign writer of +far more consequence and ability than myself—Signor Edmondo de +Amicis—has proclaimed the present book to be “one of the most +original and happiest inventions of French genius,” and I am strongly +inclined to share his opinion. +</p> + +<p> +It should be observed that the work does not merely treat of the provisioning +of a great city. That provisioning is its <i>scenario</i>; but it also embraces +a powerful allegory, the prose song of “the eternal battle between the +lean of this world and the fat—a battle in which, as the author shows, +the latter always come off successful. It is, too, in its way an allegory of +the triumph of the fat bourgeois, who lives well and beds softly, over the +gaunt and Ishmael artist—an allegory which M. Zola has more than once +introduced into his pages, another notable instance thereof being found in +‘Germinal,’ with the fat, well-fed Gregoires on the one hand, and +the starving Maheus on the other.” +</p> + +<p> +From this quotation from Mr. Sherard’s pages it will be gathered that M. +Zola had a distinct social aim in writing this book. Wellnigh the whole social +question may, indeed, be summed up in the words “food and comfort”; +and in a series of novels like “Les Rougon-Macquart,” dealing +firstly with different conditions and grades of society, and, secondly, with +the influence which the Second Empire exercised on France, the present volume +necessarily had its place marked out from the very first. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Sherard has told us of all the labour which M. Zola expended on the +preparation of the work, of his multitudinous visits to the Paris markets, his +patient investigation of their organism, and his keen artistic interest in +their manifold phases of life. And bred as I was in Paris, a partaker as I have +been of her exultations and her woes they have always had for me a strong +attraction. My memory goes back to the earlier years of their existence, and I +can well remember many of the old surroundings which have now disappeared. I +can recollect the last vestiges of the antique <i>piliers</i>, built by Francis +I, facing the Rue de la Tonnellerie. Paul Niquet’s, with its +“bowel-twisting brandy” and its crew of drunken ragpickers, was +certainly before my time; but I can readily recall Baratte’s and +Bordier’s and all the folly and prodigality which raged there; I knew, +too, several of the noted thieves’ haunts which took the place of +Niquet’s, and which one was careful never to enter without due +precaution. And then, when the German armies were beleaguering Paris, and two +millions of people were shut off from the world, I often strolled to the Halles +to view their strangely altered aspect. The fish pavilion, of which M. Zola has +so much to say, was bare and deserted. The railway drays, laden with the +comestible treasures of the ocean, no longer thundered through the covered +ways. At the most one found an auction going on in one or another corner, and a +few Seine eels or gudgeons fetching wellnigh their weight in gold. Then, in the +butter and cheese pavilions, one could only procure some nauseous melted fat, +while in the meat department horse and mule and donkey took the place of beef +and veal and mutton. Mule and donkey were very scarce, and commanded high +prices, but both were of better flavour than horse; mule, indeed, being quite a +delicacy. I also well remember a stall at which dog was sold, and, hunger +knowing no law, I once purchased, cooked, and ate a couple of canine cutlets +which cost me two francs apiece. The flesh was pinky and very tender, yet I +would not willingly make such a repast again. However, peace and plenty at last +came round once more, the Halles regained their old-time aspect, and in the +years which followed I more than once saw the dawn rise slowly over the mounds +of cabbages, carrots, leeks, and pumpkins, even as M. Zola describes in the +following pages. He has, I think, depicted with remarkable accuracy and +artistic skill the many varying effects of colour that are produced as the +climbing sun casts its early beams on the giant larder and its masses of +food—effects of colour which, to quote a famous saying of the first +Napoleon, show that “the markets of Paris are the Louvre of the +people” in more senses than one. +</p> + +<p> +The reader will bear in mind that the period dealt with by the author in this +work is that of 1857-60, when the new Halles Centrales were yet young, and +indeed not altogether complete. Still, although many old landmarks have long +since been swept away, the picture of life in all essential particulars +remained the same. Prior to 1860 the limits of Paris were the so-called +<i>boulevards exterieurs</i>, from which a girdle of suburbs, such as +Montmartre, Belleville, Passy, and Montrouge, extended to the fortifications; +and the population of the city was then only 1,400,000 souls. Some of the +figures which will be found scattered through M. Zola’s work must +therefore be taken as applying entirely to the past. +</p> + +<p> +Nowadays the amount of business transacted at the Halles has very largely +increased, in spite of the multiplication of district markets. Paris seems to +have an insatiable appetite, though, on the other hand, its cuisine is fast +becoming all simplicity. To my thinking, few more remarkable changes have come +over the Parisians of recent years than this change of diet. One by one great +restaurants, formerly renowned for particular dishes and special wines, have +been compelled through lack of custom to close their doors; and this has not +been caused so much by inability to defray the cost of high feeding as by +inability to indulge in it with impunity in a physical sense. In fact, Paris +has become a city of impaired digestions, which nowadays seek the simplicity +without the heaviness of the old English cuisine; and, should things continue +in their present course, I fancy that Parisians anxious for high feeding will +ultimately have to cross over to our side of the Channel. +</p> + +<p> +These remarks, I trust, will not be considered out of place in an introduction +to a work which to no small extent treats of the appetite of Paris. The reader +will find that the characters portrayed by M. Zola are all types of humble +life, but I fail to see that their circumstances should render them any the +less interesting. A faithful portrait of a shopkeeper, a workman, or a workgirl +is artistically of far more value than all the imaginary sketches of impossible +dukes and good and wicked baronets in which so many English novels abound. +Several of M. Zola’s personages seem to me extremely +lifelike—Gavard, indeed, is a <i>chef-d’oeuvre</i> of portraiture: +I have known many men like him; and no one who lived in Paris under the Empire +can deny the accuracy with which the author has delineated his hero Florent, +the dreamy and hapless revolutionary caught in the toils of others. In those +days, too, there was many such a plot as M. Zola describes, instigated by +agents like Logre and Lebigre, and allowed to mature till the eve of an +election or some other important event which rendered its exposure desirable +for the purpose of influencing public opinion. In fact, in all that relates to +the so-called “conspiracy of the markets,” M. Zola, whilst changing +time and place to suit the requirements of his story, has simply followed +historical lines. As for the Quenus, who play such prominent parts in the +narrative, the husband is a weakling with no soul above his stewpans, whilst +his wife, the beautiful Lisa, in reality wears the breeches and rules the +roast. The manner in which she cures Quenu of his political proclivities, +though savouring of persuasiveness rather than violence, is worthy of the +immortal Mrs. Caudle: Douglas Jerrold might have signed a certain lecture which +she administers to her astounded helpmate. Of Pauline, the Quenus’ +daughter, we see but little in the story, but she becomes the heroine of +another of M. Zola’s novels, “La Joie de Vivre,” and instead +of inheriting the egotism of her parents, develops a passionate love and +devotion for others. In a like way Claude Lantier, Florent’s artist +friend and son of Gervaise of the “Assommoir,” figures more +particularly in “L’Oeuvre,” which tells how his painful +struggle for fame resulted in madness and suicide. With reference to the +beautiful Norman and the other fishwives and gossips scattered through the +present volume, and those genuine types of Parisian <i>gaminerie</i>, Muche, +Marjolin, and Cadine, I may mention that I have frequently chastened their +language in deference to English susceptibilities, so that the story, whilst +retaining every essential feature, contains nothing to which exception can +reasonably be taken. +</p> + +<p class="right"> +E. A. V. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2>THE FAT AND THE THIN</h2> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap01"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<p> +Amidst the deep silence and solitude prevailing in the avenue several market +gardeners’ carts were climbing the slope which led towards Paris, and the +fronts of the houses, asleep behind the dim lines of elms on either side of the +road, echoed back the rhythmical jolting of the wheels. At the Neuilly bridge a +cart full of cabbages and another full of peas had joined the eight waggons of +carrots and turnips coming down from Nanterre; and the horses, left to +themselves, had continued plodding along with lowered heads, at a regular +though lazy pace, which the ascent of the slope now slackened. The sleeping +waggoners, wrapped in woollen cloaks, striped black and grey, and grasping the +reins slackly in their closed hands, were stretched at full length on their +stomachs atop of the piles of vegetables. Every now and then, a gas lamp, +following some patch of gloom, would light up the hobnails of a boot, the blue +sleeve of a blouse, or the peak of a cap peering out of the huge florescence of +vegetables—red bouquets of carrots, white bouquets of turnips, and the +overflowing greenery of peas and cabbages. +</p> + +<p> +And all along the road, and along the neighbouring roads, in front and behind, +the distant rumbling of vehicles told of the presence of similar contingents of +the great caravan which was travelling onward through the gloom and deep +slumber of that matutinal hour, lulling the dark city to continued repose with +its echoes of passing food. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Francois’s horse, Balthazar, an animal that was far too fat, led +the van. He was plodding on, half asleep and wagging his ears, when suddenly, +on reaching the Rue de Longchamp, he quivered with fear and came to a dead +stop. The horses behind, thus unexpectedly checked, ran their heads against the +backs of the carts in front of them, and the procession halted amidst a +clattering of bolts and chains and the oaths of the awakened waggoners. Madame +Francois, who sat in front of her vehicle, with her back to a board which kept +her vegetables in position, looked down; but, in the dim light thrown to the +left by a small square lantern, which illuminated little beyond one of +Balthazar’s sheeny flanks, she could distinguish nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, old woman, let’s get on!” cried one of the men, who +had raised himself to a kneeling position amongst his turnips; +“it’s only some drunken sot.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Francois, however, had bent forward and on her right hand had caught +sight of a black mass, lying almost under the horse’s hoofs, and blocking +the road. +</p> + +<p> +“You wouldn’t have us drive over a man, would you?” said she, +jumping to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed a man lying at full length upon the road, with his arms stretched +out and his face in the dust. He seemed to be remarkably tall, but as withered +as a dry branch, and the wonder was that Balthazar had not broken him in half +with a blow from his hoof. Madame Francois thought that he was dead; but on +stooping and taking hold of one of his hands, she found that it was quite warm. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor fellow!” she murmured softly. +</p> + +<p> +The waggoners, however, were getting impatient. +</p> + +<p> +“Hurry up, there!” said the man kneeling amongst the turnips, in a +hoarse voice. “He’s drunk till he can hold no more, the hog! Shove +him into the gutter.” +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, the man on the road had opened his eyes. He looked at Madame Francois +with a startled air, but did not move. She herself now thought that he must +indeed be drunk. +</p> + +<p> +“You mustn’t stop here,” she said to him, “or +you’ll get run over and killed. Where were you going?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” replied the man in a faint voice. +</p> + +<p> +Then, with an effort and an anxious expression, he added: “I was going to +Paris; I fell down, and don’t remember any more.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Francois could now see him more distinctly, and he was truly a pitiable +object, with his ragged black coat and trousers, through the rents in which you +could espy his scraggy limbs. Underneath a black cloth cap, which was drawn low +over his brows, as though he were afraid of being recognised, could be seen two +large brown eyes, gleaming with peculiar softness in his otherwise stern and +harassed countenance. It seemed to Madame Francois that he was in far too +famished a condition to have got drunk. +</p> + +<p> +“And what part of Paris were you going to?” she continued. +</p> + +<p> +The man did not reply immediately. This questioning seemed to distress him. He +appeared to be thinking the matter over, but at last said hesitatingly, +“Over yonder, towards the markets.” +</p> + +<p> +He had now, with great difficulty, got to his feet again, and seemed anxious to +resume his journey. But Madame Francois noticed that he tottered, and clung for +support to one of the shafts of her waggon. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you tired?” she asked him. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, very tired,” he replied. +</p> + +<p> +Then she suddenly assumed a grumpy tone, as though displeased, and, giving him +a push, exclaimed: “Look sharp, then, and climb into my cart. +You’ve made us lose a lot of time. I’m going to the markets, and +I’ll turn you out there with my vegetables.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, as the man seemed inclined to refuse her offer, she pushed him up with +her stout arms, and bundled him down upon the turnips and carrots. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, now, don’t give us any more trouble,” she cried +angrily. “You are quite enough to provoke one, my good fellow. +Don’t I tell you that I’m going to the markets? Sleep away up +there. I’ll wake you when we arrive.” +</p> + +<p> +She herself then clambered into the cart again, and settled herself with her +back against the board, grasping the reins of Balthazar, who started off +drowsily, swaying his ears once more. The other waggons followed, and the +procession resumed its lazy march through the darkness, whilst the rhythmical +jolting of the wheels again awoke the echoes of the sleepy house fronts, and +the waggoners, wrapped in their cloaks, dozed off afresh. The one who had +called to Madame Francois growled out as he lay down: “As if we’d +nothing better to do than pick up every drunken sot we come across! +You’re a scorcher, old woman!” +</p> + +<p> +The waggons rumbled on, and the horses picked their own way, with drooping +heads. The stranger whom Madame Francois had befriended was lying on his +stomach, with his long legs lost amongst the turnips which filled the back part +of the cart, whilst his face was buried amidst the spreading piles of carrot +bunches. With weary, extended arms he clutched hold of his vegetable couch in +fear of being thrown to the ground by one of the waggon’s jolts, and his +eyes were fixed on the two long lines of gas lamps which stretched away in +front of him till they mingled with a swarm of other lights in the distance +atop of the slope. Far away on the horizon floated a spreading, whitish vapour, +showing where Paris slept amidst the luminous haze of all those flamelets. +</p> + +<p> +“I come from Nanterre, and my name’s Madame Francois,” said +the market gardener presently. “Since my poor man died I go to the +markets every morning myself. It’s a hard life, as you may guess. And who +are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“My name’s Florent, I come from a distance,” replied the +stranger, with embarrassment. “Please excuse me, but I’m really so +tired that it is painful to me to talk.” +</p> + +<p> +He was evidently unwilling to say anything more, and so Madame Francois +relapsed into silence, and allowed the reins to fall loosely on the back of +Balthazar, who went his way like an animal acquainted with every stone of the +road. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, with his eyes still fixed upon the far-spreading glare of Paris, +Florent was pondering over the story which he had refused to communicate to +Madame Francois. After making his escape from Cayenne, whither he had been +transported for his participation in the resistance to Louis Napoleon’s +Coup d’Etat, he had wandered about Dutch Guiana for a couple of years, +burning to return to France, yet dreading the Imperial police. At last, +however, he once more saw before him the beloved and mighty city which he had +so keenly regretted and so ardently longed for. He would hide himself there, he +told himself, and again lead the quiet, peaceable life that he had lived years +ago. The police would never be any the wiser; and everyone would imagine, +indeed, that he had died over yonder, across the sea. Then he thought of his +arrival at Havre, where he had landed with only some fifteen francs tied up in +a corner of his handkerchief. He had been able to pay for a seat in the coach +as far as Rouen, but from that point he had been forced to continue his journey +on foot, as he had scarcely thirty sous left of his little store. At Vernon his +last copper had gone in bread. After that he had no clear recollection of +anything. He fancied that he could remember having slept for several hours in a +ditch, and having shown the papers with which he had provided himself to a +gendarme; however, he had only a very confused idea of what had happened. He +had left Vernon without any breakfast, seized every now and then with hopeless +despair and raging pangs which had driven him to munch the leaves of the hedges +as he tramped along. A prey to cramp and fright, his body bent, his sight +dimmed, and his feet sore, he had continued his weary march, ever drawn onwards +in a semi-unconscious state by a vision of Paris, which, far, far away, beyond +the horizon, seemed to be summoning him and waiting for him. +</p> + +<p> +When he at length reached Courbevoie, the night was very dark. Paris, looking +like a patch of star-sprent sky that had fallen upon the black earth, seemed to +him to wear a forbidding aspect, as though angry at his return. Then he felt +very faint, and his legs almost gave way beneath him as he descended the hill. +As he crossed the Neuilly bridge he sustained himself by clinging to the +parapet, and bent over and looked at the Seine rolling inky waves between its +dense, massy banks. A red lamp on the water seemed to be watching him with a +sanguineous eye. And then he had to climb the hill if he would reach Paris on +its summit yonder. The hundreds of leagues which he had already travelled were +as nothing to it. That bit of a road filled him with despair. He would never be +able, he thought, to reach yonder light crowned summit. The spacious avenue lay +before him with its silence and its darkness, its lines of tall trees and low +houses, its broad grey footwalks, speckled with the shadows of overhanging +branches, and parted occasionally by the gloomy gaps of side streets. The squat +yellow flames of the gas lamps, standing erect at regular intervals, alone +imparted a little life to the lonely wilderness. And Florent seemed to make no +progress; the avenue appeared to grow ever longer and longer, to be carrying +Paris away into the far depths of the night. At last he fancied that the gas +lamps, with their single eyes, were running off on either hand, whisking the +road away with them; and then, overcome by vertigo, he stumbled and fell on the +roadway like a log. +</p> + +<p> +Now he was lying at ease on his couch of greenery, which seemed to him soft as +a feather bed. He had slightly raised his head so as to keep his eyes on the +luminous haze which was spreading above the dark roofs which he could divine on +the horizon. He was nearing his goal, carried along towards it, with nothing to +do but to yield to the leisurely jolts of the waggon; and, free from all +further fatigue, he now only suffered from hunger. Hunger, indeed, had once +more awoke within him with frightful and wellnigh intolerable pangs. His limbs +seemed to have fallen asleep; he was only conscious of the existence of his +stomach, horribly cramped and twisted as by a red-hot iron. The fresh odour of +the vegetables, amongst which he was lying, affected him so keenly that he +almost fainted away. He strained himself against that piled-up mass of food +with all his remaining strength, in order to compress his stomach and silence +its groans. And the nine other waggons behind him, with their mountains of +cabbages and peas, their piles of artichokes, lettuces, celery, and leeks, +seemed to him to be slowly overtaking him, as though to bury him whilst he was +thus tortured by hunger beneath an avalanche of food. Presently the procession +halted, and there was a sound of deep voices. They had reached the barriers, +and the municipal customs officers were examining the waggons. A moment later +Florent entered Paris, in a swoon, lying atop of the carrots, with clenched +teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallow! You up there!” Madame Francois called out sharply. +</p> + +<p> +And as the stranger made no attempt to move, she clambered up and shook him. +Florent rose to a sitting posture. He had slept and no longer felt the pangs of +hunger, but was dizzy and confused. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll help me to unload, won’t you?” Madame Francois +said to him, as she made him get down. +</p> + +<p> +He helped her. A stout man with a felt hat on his head and a badge in the top +buttonhole of his coat was striking the ground with a stick and grumbling +loudly: +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, now, make haste! You must get on faster than that! Bring the +waggon a little more forward. How many yards’ standing have you? Four, +isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +Then he gave a ticket to Madame Francois, who took some coppers out of a little +canvas bag and handed them to him; whereupon he went off to vent his impatience +and tap the ground with his stick a little further away. Madame Francois took +hold of Balthazar’s bridle and backed him so as to bring the wheels of +the waggon close to the footway. Then, having marked out her four yards with +some wisps of straw, after removing the back of the cart, she asked Florent to +hand her the vegetables bunch by bunch. She arranged them sort by sort on her +standing, setting them out artistically, the “tops” forming a band +of greenery around each pile; and it was with remarkable rapidity that she +completed her show, which, in the gloom of early morning, looked like some +piece of symmetrically coloured tapestry. When Florent had handed her a huge +bunch of parsley, which he had found at the bottom of the cart, she asked him +for still another service. +</p> + +<p> +“It would be very kind of you,” said she, “if you would look +after my goods while I put the horse and cart up. I’m only going a couple +of yards, to the Golden Compasses, in the Rue Montorgueil.” +</p> + +<p> +Florent told her that she might make herself easy. He preferred to remain +still, for his hunger had revived since he had begun to move about. He sat down +and leaned against a heap of cabbages beside Madame Francois’s stock. He +was all right there, he told himself, and would not go further afield, but +wait. His head felt empty, and he had no very clear notion as to where he was. +At the beginning of September it is quite dark in the early morning. Around him +lighted lanterns were flitting or standing stationary in the depths of the +gloom. He was sitting on one side of a broad street which he did not recognise; +it stretched far away into the blackness of the night. He could make out +nothing plainly, excepting the stock of which he had been left in charge. All +around him along the market footways rose similar piles of goods. The middle of +the roadway was blocked by huge grey tumbrels, and from one end of the street +to the other a sound of heavy breathing passed, betokening the presence of +horses which the eye could not distinguish. +</p> + +<p> +Shouts and calls, the noise of falling wood, or of iron chains slipping to the +ground, the heavy thud of loads of vegetables discharged from the waggons, and +the grating of wheels as the carts were backed against the footways, filled the +yet sonorous awakening, whose near approach could be felt and heard in the +throbbing gloom. Glancing over the pile of cabbages behind him. Florent caught +sight of a man wrapped like a parcel in his cloak, and snoring away with his +head upon some baskets of plums. Nearer to him, on his left, he could +distinguish a lad, some ten years old, slumbering between two heaps of endive, +with an angelic smile on his face. And as yet there seemed to be nothing on +that pavement that was really awake except the lanterns waving from invisible +arms, and flitting and skipping over the sleep of the vegetables and human +beings spread out there in heaps pending the dawn. However, what surprised +Florent was the sight of some huge pavilions on either side of the street, +pavilions with lofty roofs that seemed to expand and soar out of sight amidst a +swarm of gleams. In his weakened state of mind he fancied he beheld a series of +enormous, symmetrically built palaces, light and airy as crystal, whose fronts +sparkled with countless streaks of light filtering through endless Venetian +shutters. Gleaming between the slender pillar shafts these narrow golden bars +seemed like ladders of light mounting to the gloomy line of the lower roofs, +and then soaring aloft till they reached the jumble of higher ones, thus +describing the open framework of immense square halls, where in the yellow +flare of the gas lights a multitude of vague, grey, slumbering things was +gathered together. +</p> + +<p> +At last Florent turned his head to look about him, distressed at not knowing +where he was, and filled with vague uneasiness by the sight of that huge and +seemingly fragile vision. And now, as he raised his eyes, he caught sight of +the luminous dial and the grey massive pile of Saint Eustache’s Church. +At this he was much astonished. He was close to Saint Eustache, yet all was +novel to him. +</p> + +<p> +However, Madame Francois had come back again, and was engaged in a heated +discussion with a man who carried a sack over his shoulder and offered to buy +her carrots for a sou a bunch. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, now, you are unreasonable, Lacaille!” said she. “You +know quite well that you will sell them again to the Parisians at four and five +sous the bunch. Don’t tell me that you won’t! You may have them for +two sous the bunch, if you like.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, as the man went off, she continued: “Upon my word, I believe some +people think that things grow of their own accord! Let him go and find carrots +at a sou the bunch elsewhere, tipsy scoundrel that he is! He’ll come back +again presently, you’ll see.” +</p> + +<p> +These last remarks were addressed to Florent. And, seating herself by his side, +Madame Francois resumed: “If you’ve been a long time away from +Paris, you perhaps don’t know the new markets. They haven’t been +built for more than five years at the most. That pavilion you see there beside +us is the flower and fruit market. The fish and poultry markets are farther +away, and over there behind us come the vegetables and the butter and cheese. +There are six pavilions on this side, and on the other side, across the road, +there are four more, with the meat and the tripe stalls. It’s an enormous +place, but it’s horribly cold in the winter. They talk about pulling down +the houses near the corn market to make room for two more pavilions. But +perhaps you know all this?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, indeed,” replied Florent; “I’ve been abroad. And +what’s the name of that big street in front of us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that’s a new street. It’s called the Rue du Pont Neuf. +It leads from the Seine through here to the Rue Montmartre and the Rue +Montorgueil. You would soon have recognized where you were if it had been +daylight.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Francois paused and rose, for she saw a woman heading down to examine +her turnips. “Ah, is that you, Mother Chantemesse?” she said in a +friendly way. +</p> + +<p> +Florent meanwhile glanced towards the Rue Montorgueil. It was there that a body +of police officers had arrested him on the night of December 4.[*] He had been +walking along the Boulevard Montmartre at about two o’clock, quietly +making his way through the crowd, and smiling at the number of soldiers that +the Elysee had sent into the streets to awe the people, when the military +suddenly began making a clean sweep of the thoroughfare, shooting folks down at +close range during a quarter of an hour. Jostled and knocked to the ground, +Florent fell at the corner of the Rue Vivienne and knew nothing further of what +happened, for the panic-stricken crowd, in their wild terror of being shot, +trampled over his body. Presently, hearing everything quiet, he made an attempt +to rise; but across him there lay a young woman in a pink bonnet, whose shawl +had slipped aside, allowing her chemisette, pleated in little tucks, to be +seen. Two bullets had pierced the upper part of her bosom; and when Florent +gently removed the poor creature to free his legs, two streamlets of blood +oozed from her wounds on to his hands. Then he sprang up with a sudden bound, +and rushed madly away, hatless and with his hands still wet with blood. Until +evening he wandered about the streets, with his head swimming, ever seeing the +young woman lying across his legs with her pale face, her blue staring eyes, +her distorted lips, and her expression of astonishment at thus meeting death so +suddenly. He was a shy, timid fellow. Albeit thirty years old he had never +dared to stare women in the face; and now, for the rest of his life, he was to +have that one fixed in his heart and memory. He felt as though he had lost some +loved one of his own. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] 1851. Two days after the Coup d’Etat.—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +In the evening, without knowing how he had got there, still dazed and horrified +as he was by the terrible scenes of the afternoon, he had found himself at a +wine shop in the Rue Montorgueil, where several men were drinking and talking +of throwing up barricades. He went away with them, helped them to tear up a few +paving-stones, and seated himself on the barricade, weary with his long +wandering through the streets, and reflecting that he would fight when the +soldiers came up. However, he had not even a knife with him, and was still +bareheaded. Towards eleven o’clock he dozed off, and in his sleep could +see the two holes in the dead woman’s white chemisette glaring at him +like eyes reddened by tears and blood. When he awoke he found himself in the +grasp of four police officers, who were pummelling him with their fists. The +men who had built the barricade had fled. The police officers treated him with +still greater violence, and indeed almost strangled him when they noticed that +his hands were stained with blood. It was the blood of the young woman. +</p> + +<p> +Florent raised his eyes to the luminous dial of Saint Eustache with his mind so +full of these recollections that he did not notice the position of the +pointers. It was, however, nearly four o’clock. The markets were as yet +wrapped in sleep. Madame Francois was still talking to old Madame Chantemesse, +both standing and arguing about the price of turnips, and Florent now called to +mind how narrowly he had escaped being shot over yonder by the wall of Saint +Eustache. A detachment of gendarmes had just blown out the brains of five +unhappy fellows caught at a barricade in the Rue Greneta. The five corpses were +lying on the footway, at a spot where he thought he could now distinguish a +heap of rosy radishes. He himself had escaped being shot merely because the +policemen only carried swords. They took him to a neighbouring police station +and gave the officer in charge a scrap of paper, on which were these words +written in pencil: “Taken with blood-stained hands. Very +dangerous.” Then he had been dragged from station to station till the +morning came. The scrap of paper accompanied him wherever he went. He was +manacled and guarded as though he were a raving madman. At the station in the +Rue de la Lingerie some tipsy soldiers wanted to shoot him; and they had +already lighted a lantern with that object when the order arrived for the +prisoners to be taken to the depot of the Prefecture of Police. Two days +afterwards he found himself in a casemate of the fort of Bicêtre. Ever since +then he had been suffering from hunger. He had felt hungry in the casemate, and +the pangs of hunger had never since left him. A hundred men were pent in the +depths of that cellar-like dungeon, where, scarce able to breathe, they +devoured the few mouthfuls of bread that were thrown to them, like so many +captive wild beasts. +</p> + +<p> +When Florent was brought before an investigating magistrate, without anyone to +defend him, and without any evidence being adduced, he was accused of belonging +to a secret society; and when he swore that this was untrue, the magistrate +produced the scrap of paper from amongst the documents before him: “Taken +with blood-stained hands. Very dangerous.” That was quite sufficient. He +was condemned to transportation. Six weeks afterwards, one January night, a +gaoler awoke him and locked him up in a courtyard with more than four hundred +other prisoners. An hour later this first detachment started for the pontoons +and exile, handcuffed and guarded by a double file of gendarmes with loaded +muskets. They crossed the Austerlitz bridge, followed the line of the +boulevards, and so reached the terminus of the Western Railway line. It was a +joyous carnival night. The windows of the restaurants on the boulevards +glittered with lights. At the top of the Rue Vivienne, just at the spot where +he ever saw the young woman lying dead—that unknown young woman whose +image he always bore with him—he now beheld a large carriage in which a +party of masked women, with bare shoulders and laughing voices, were venting +their impatience at being detained, and expressing their horror of that endless +procession of convicts. The whole of the way from Paris to Havre the prisoners +never received a mouthful of bread or a drink of water. The officials had +forgotten to give them their rations before starting, and it was not till +thirty-six hours afterwards, when they had been stowed away in the hold of the +frigate <i>Canada</i>, that they at last broke their fast. +</p> + +<p> +No, Florent had never again been free from hunger. He recalled all the past to +mind, but could not recollect a single hour of satiety. He had become dry and +withered; his stomach seemed to have shrunk; his skin clung to his bones. And +now that he was back in Paris once more, he found it fat and sleek and +flourishing, teeming with food in the midst of the darkness. He had returned to +it on a couch of vegetables; he lingered in its midst encompassed by unknown +masses of food which still and ever increased and disquieted him. Had that +happy carnival night continued throughout those seven years, then? Once again +he saw the glittering windows on the boulevards, the laughing women, the +luxurious, greedy city which he had quitted on that far-away January night; and +it seemed to him that everything had expanded and increased in harmony with +those huge markets, whose gigantic breathing, still heavy from the indigestion +of the previous day, he now began to hear. +</p> + +<p> +Old Mother Chantemesse had by this time made up her mind to buy a dozen bunches +of turnips. She put them in her apron, which she held closely pressed to her +person, thus making herself look yet more corpulent than she was; and for some +time longer she lingered there, still gossiping in a drawling voice. When at +last she went away, Madame Francois again sat down by the side of Florent. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor old Mother Chantemesse!” she said; “she must be at +least seventy-two. I can remember her buying turnips of my father when I was a +mere chit. And she hasn’t a relation in the world; no one but a young +hussy whom she picked up I don’t know where and who does nothing but +bring her trouble. Still, she manages to live, selling things by the +ha’p’orth and clearing her couple of francs profit a day. For my +own part, I’m sure that I could never spend my days on the foot-pavement +in this horrid Paris! And she hasn’t even any relations here!” +</p> + +<p> +“You have some relations in Paris, I suppose?” she asked presently, +seeing that Florent seemed disinclined to talk. +</p> + +<p> +Florent did not appear to hear her. A feeling of distrust came back to him. His +head was teeming with old stories of the police, stories of spies prowling +about at every street corner, and of women selling the secrets which they +managed to worm out of the unhappy fellows they deluded. Madame Francois was +sitting close beside him and certainly looked perfectly straightforward and +honest, with her big calm face, above which was bound a black and yellow +handkerchief. She seemed about five and thirty years of age, and was somewhat +stoutly built, with a certain hardy beauty due to her life in the fresh air. A +pair of black eyes, which beamed with kindly tenderness, softened the more +masculine characteristics of her person. She certainly was inquisitive, but her +curiosity was probably well meant. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve a nephew in Paris,” she continued, without seeming at +all offended by Florent’s silence. “He’s turned out badly +though, and has enlisted. It’s a pleasant thing to have somewhere to go +to and stay at, isn’t it? I dare say there’s a big surprise in +store for your relations when they see you. But it’s always a pleasure to +welcome one of one’s own people back again, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +She kept her eyes fixed upon him while she spoke, doubtless compassionating his +extreme scragginess; fancying, too, that there was a “gentleman” +inside those old black rags, and so not daring to slip a piece of silver into +his hand. At last, however, she timidly murmured: “All the same, if you +should happen just at present to be in want of anything——” +</p> + +<p> +But Florent checked her with uneasy pride. He told her that he had everything +he required, and had a place to go to. She seemed quite pleased to hear this, +and, as though to tranquillise herself concerning him, repeated several times: +“Well, well, in that case you’ve only got to wait till +daylight.” +</p> + +<p> +A large bell at the corner of the fruit market, just over Florent’s head, +now began to ring. The slow regular peals seemed to gradually dissipate the +slumber that yet lingered all around. Carts were still arriving, and the shouts +of the waggoners, the cracking of their whips, and the grinding of the +paving-stones beneath the iron-bound wheels and the horses’ shoes sounded +with an increasing din. The carts could now only advance by a series of +spasmodic jolts, and stretched in a long line, one behind the other, till they +were lost to sight in the distant darkness, whence a confused roar ascended. +</p> + +<p> +Unloading was in progress all along the Rue du Pont Neuf, the vehicles being +drawn up close to the edge of the footways, while their teams stood motionless +in close order as at a horse fair. Florent felt interested in one enormous +tumbrel which was piled up with magnificent cabbages, and had only been backed +to the kerb with the greatest difficulty. Its load towered above the lofty gas +lamp whose bright light fell full upon the broad leaves which looked like +pieces of dark green velvet, scalloped and goffered. A young peasant girl, some +sixteen years old, in a blue linen jacket and cap, had climbed on to the +tumbrel, where, buried in the cabbages to her shoulders, she took them one by +one and threw them to somebody concealed in the shade below. Every now and then +the girl would slip and vanish, overwhelmed by an avalanche of the vegetables, +but her rosy nose soon reappeared amidst the teeming greenery, and she broke +into a laugh while the cabbages again flew down between Florent and the gas +lamp. He counted them mechanically as they fell. When the cart was emptied he +felt worried. +</p> + +<p> +The piles of vegetables on the pavement now extended to the verge of the +roadway. Between the heaps, the market gardeners left narrow paths to enable +people to pass along. The whole of the wide footway was covered from end to end +with dark mounds. As yet, in the sudden dancing gleams of light from the +lanterns, you only just espied the luxuriant fulness of the bundles of +artichokes, the delicate green of the lettuces, the rosy coral of the carrots, +and dull ivory of the turnips. And these gleams of rich colour flitted along +the heaps, according as the lanterns came and went. The footway was now +becoming populated: a crowd of people had awakened, and was moving hither and +thither amidst the vegetables, stopping at times, and chattering and shouting. +In the distance a loud voice could be heard crying, “Endive! who’s +got endive?” The gates of the pavilion devoted to the sale of ordinary +vegetables had just been opened; and the retail dealers who had stalls there, +with white caps on their heads, fichus knotted over their black jackets, and +skirts pinned up to keep them from getting soiled, now began to secure their +stock for the day, depositing their purchases in some huge porters’ +baskets placed upon the ground. Between the roadway and the pavilion these +baskets were to be seen coming and going on all sides, knocking against the +crowded heads of the bystanders, who resented the pushing with coarse +expressions, whilst all around was a clamour of voices growing hoarse by +prolonged wrangling over a sou or two. Florent was astonished by the calmness +of the female market gardeners, with bandanas and bronzed faces, displayed +amidst all this garrulous bargaining of the markets. +</p> + +<p> +Behind him, on the footway of the Rue Rambuteau, fruit was being sold. Hampers +and low baskets covered with canvas or straw stood there in long lines, a +strong odour of over-ripe mirabelle plums was wafted hither and thither. At +last a subdued and gentle voice, which he had heard for some time past, induced +him to turn his head, and he saw a charming darksome little woman sitting on +the ground and bargaining. +</p> + +<p> +“Come now, Marcel,” said she, “you’ll take a hundred +sous, won’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +The man to whom she was speaking was closely wrapped in his cloak and made no +reply; however, after a silence of five minutes or more, the young woman +returned to the charge. +</p> + +<p> +“Come now, Marcel; a hundred sous for that basket there, and four francs +for the other one; that’ll make nine francs altogether.” +</p> + +<p> +Then came another interval. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, tell me what you will take.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ten francs. You know that well enough already; I told you so before. But +what have you done with your Jules this morning, La Sarriette?” +</p> + +<p> +The young woman began to laugh as she took a handful of small change out of her +pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” she replied, “Jules is still in bed. He says that men +were not intended to work.” +</p> + +<p> +She paid for the two baskets, and carried them into the fruit pavilion, which +had just been opened. The market buildings still retained their gloom-wrapped +aspect of airy fragility, streaked with the thousand lines of light that +gleamed from the venetian shutters. People were beginning to pass along the +broad covered streets intersecting the pavilions, but the more distant +buildings still remained deserted amidst the increasing buzz of life on the +footways. By Saint Eustache the bakers and wine sellers were taking down their +shutters, and the ruddy shops, with their gas lights flaring, showed like gaps +of fire in the gloom in which the grey house-fronts were yet steeped. Florent +noticed a baker’s shop on the left-hand side of the Rue Montorgueil, +replete and golden with its last baking, and fancied he could scent the +pleasant smell of the hot bread. It was now half past four. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Francois by this time had disposed of nearly all her stock. She had only +a few bunches of carrots left when Lacaille once more made his appearance with +his sack. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said he, “will you take a sou now?” +</p> + +<p> +“I knew I should see you again,” the good woman quietly answered. +“You’d better take all I have left. There are seventeen +bunches.” +</p> + +<p> +“That makes seventeen sous.” +</p> + +<p> +“No; thirty-four.” +</p> + +<p> +At last they agreed to fix the price at twenty-five sous. Madame Francois was +anxious to be off. +</p> + +<p> +“He’d been keeping his eye upon me all the time,” she said to +Florent, when Lacaille had gone off with the carrots in his sack. “That +old rogue runs things down all over the markets, and he often waits till the +last peal of the bell before spending four sous in purchase. Oh, these Paris +folk! They’ll wrangle and argue for an hour to save half a sou, and then +go off and empty their purses at the wine shop.” +</p> + +<p> +Whenever Madame Francois talked of Paris she always spoke in a tone of disdain, +and referred to the city as though it were some ridiculous, contemptible, +far-away place, in which she only condescended to set foot at nighttime. +</p> + +<p> +“There!” she continued, sitting down again, beside Florent, on some +vegetables belonging to a neighbour, “I can get away now.” +</p> + +<p> +Florent bent his head. He had just committed a theft. When Lacaille went off he +had caught sight of a carrot lying on the ground, and having picked it up he +was holding it tightly in his right hand. Behind him were some bundles of +celery and bunches of parsley were diffusing pungent odours which painfully +affected him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’m off now!” said Madame Francois. +</p> + +<p> +However, she felt interested in this stranger, and could divine that he was +suffering there on that foot-pavement, from which he had never stirred. She +made him fresh offers of assistance, but he again refused them, with a still +more bitter show of pride. He even got up and remained standing to prove that +he was quite strong again. Then, as Madame Francois turned her head away, he +put the carrot to his mouth. But he had to remove it for a moment, in spite of +the terrible longing which he felt to dig his teeth into it; for Madame +Francois turned round again and looking him full in the face, began to question +him with her good-natured womanly curiosity. Florent, to avoid speaking, merely +answered by nods and shakes of the head. Then, slowly and gently, he began to +eat the carrot. +</p> + +<p> +The worthy woman was at last on the point of going off, when a powerful voice +exclaimed close beside her, “Good morning, Madame Francois.” +</p> + +<p> +The speaker was a slim young man, with big bones and a big head. His face was +bearded, and he had a very delicate nose and narrow sparkling eyes. He wore on +his head a rusty, battered, black felt hat, and was buttoned up in an immense +overcoat, which had once been of a soft chestnut hue, but which rain had +discoloured and streaked with long greenish stains. Somewhat bent, and +quivering with a nervous restlessness which was doubtless habitual with him, he +stood there in a pair of heavy laced shoes, and the shortness of his trousers +allowed a glimpse of his coarse blue hose. +</p> + +<p> +“Good morning, Monsieur Claude,” the market gardener replied +cheerfully. “I expected you, you know, last Monday, and, as you +didn’t come, I’ve taken care of your canvas for you. I’ve +hung it up on a nail in my room.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are really very kind, Madame Francois. I’ll go to finish that +study of mine one of these days. I wasn’t able to go on Monday. Has your +big plum tree still got all its leaves?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wanted to know, because I mean to put it in a corner of the picture. +It will come in nicely by the side of the fowl house. I have been thinking +about it all the week. What lovely vegetables are in the market this morning! I +came down very early, expecting a fine sunrise effect upon all these heaps of +cabbages.” +</p> + +<p> +With a wave of the arm he indicated the footway. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, I must be off now,” said Madame Francois. +“Good-bye for the present. We shall meet again soon, I hope, Monsieur +Claude.” +</p> + +<p> +However, as she turned to go, she introduced Florent to the young artist. +</p> + +<p> +“This gentleman, it seems, has just come from a distance,” said +she. “He feels quite lost in your scampish Paris. I dare say you might be +of service to him.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she at last took her departure, feeling pleased at having left the two men +together. Claude looked at Florent with a feeling of interest. That tall, +slight, wavy figure seemed to him original. Madame Francois’s hasty +presentation was in his eyes quite sufficient, and he addressed Florent with +the easy familiarity of a lounger accustomed to all sorts of chance encounters. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll accompany you,” he said; “which way are you +going?” +</p> + +<p> +Florent felt ill at ease; he was not wont to unbosom himself so readily. +However, ever since his arrival in Paris, a question had been trembling on his +lips, and now he ventured to ask it, with the evident fear of receiving an +unfavourable reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Is the Rue Pirouette still in existence?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes,” answered the artist. “A very curious corner of old +Paris is the Rue Pirouette. It twists and turns like a dancing girl, and the +houses bulge out like pot-bellied gluttons. I’ve made an etching of it +that isn’t half bad. I’ll show it to you when you come to see me. +Is it to the Rue Pirouette that you want to go?” +</p> + +<p> +Florent, who felt easier and more cheerful now that he knew the street still +existed, declared that he did not want to go there; in fact, he did not want to +go anywhere in particular. All his distrust awoke into fresh life at +Claude’s insistence. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! never mind,” said the artist, “let’s go to the Rue +Pirouette all the same. It has such a fine colour at night time. Come along; +it’s only a couple of yards away.” +</p> + +<p> +Florent felt constrained to follow him, and the two men walked off, side by +side, stepping over the hampers and vegetables like a couple of old friends. On +the footway of the Rue Rambuteau there were some immense heaps of cauliflowers, +symmetrically piled up like so many cannonballs. The soft-white flowers spread +out like huge roses in the midst of their thick green leaves, and the piles had +something of the appearance of bridal bouquets ranged in a row in colossal +flower stands. Claude stopped in front of them, venting cries of admiration. +</p> + +<p> +Then, on turning into the Rue Pirouette, which was just opposite, he pointed +out each house to his companion, and explained his views concerning it. There +was only a single gas lamp, burning in a corner. The buildings, which had +settled down and swollen, threw their pent-houses forward in such wise as to +justify Claude’s allusion to pot-bellied gluttons, whilst their gables +receded, and on either side they clung to their neighbours for support. Three +or four, however, standing in gloomy recesses, appeared to be on the point of +toppling forward. The solitary gas lamp illumined one which was snowy with a +fresh coat of whitewash, suggesting some flabby broken-down old dowager, +powdered and bedaubed in the hope of appearing young. Then the others stretched +away into the darkness, bruised, dented, and cracked, greeny with the fall of +water from their roofs, and displaying such an extraordinary variety of +attitudes and tints that Claude could not refrain from laughing as he +contemplated them. +</p> + +<p> +Florent, however, came to stand at the corner of the rue de Mondetour, in front +of the last house but one on the left. Here the three floors, each with two +shutterless windows, having little white curtains closely drawn, seemed wrapped +in sleep; but, up above, a light could be seen flitting behind the curtains of +a tiny gable casement. However, the sight of the shop beneath the pent-house +seemed to fill Florent with the deepest emotion. It was kept by a dealer in +cooked vegetables, and was just being opened. At its far end some metal pans +were glittering, while on several earthen ones in the window there was a +display of cooked spinach and endive, reduced to a paste and arranged in +conical mounds from which customers were served with shovel-like carvers of +white metal, only the handles of which were visible. This sight seemed to rivet +Florent to the ground with surprise. He evidently could not recognize the +place. He read the name of the shopkeeper, Godeboeuf, which was painted on a +red sign board up above, and remained quite overcome by consternation. His arms +dangling beside him, he began to examine the cooked spinach, with the +despairing air of one on whom some supreme misfortune falls. +</p> + +<p> +However, the gable casement was now opened, and a little old woman leaned out +of it, and looked first at the sky and then at the markets in the distance. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Mademoiselle Saget is an early riser,” exclaimed Claude, who +had just raised his head. And, turning to his companion, he added: “I +once had an aunt living in that house. It’s a regular hive of +tittle-tattle! Ah, the Mehudins are stirring now, I see. There’s a light +on the second floor.” +</p> + +<p> +Florent would have liked to question his companion, but the latter’s long +discoloured overcoat give him a disquieting appearance. So without a word +Florent followed him, whilst he went on talking about the Mehudins. These +Mehudins were fish-girls, it seemed; the older one was a magnificent creature, +while the younger one, who sold fresh-water fish, reminded Claude of one of +Murillo’s virgins, whenever he saw her standing with her fair face amidst +her carps and eels. +</p> + +<p> +From this Claude went on to remark with asperity that Murillo painted like an +ignoramus. But all at once he stopped short in the middle of the street. +</p> + +<p> +“Come!” he exclaimed, “tell me where it is that you want to +go.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to go anywhere just at present,” replied +Florent in confusion. “Let’s go wherever you like.” +</p> + +<p> +Just as they were leaving the Rue Pirouette, some one called to Claude from a +wine shop at the corner of the street. The young man went in, dragging Florent +with him. The shutters had been taken down on one side only, and the gas was +still burning in the sleepy atmosphere of the shop. A forgotten napkin and some +cards that had been used in the previous evening’s play were still lying +on the tables; and the fresh breeze that streamed in through the open doorway +freshened the close, warm vinous air. The landlord, Monsieur Lebigre, was +serving his customers. He wore a sleeved waistcoat, and his fat regular +features, fringed by an untidy beard, were still pale with sleep. Standing in +front of the counter, groups of men, with heavy, tired eyes, were drinking, +coughing, and spitting, whilst trying to rouse themselves by the aid of white +wine and brandy. Amongst them Florent recognised Lacaille, whose sack now +overflowed with various sorts of vegetables. He was taking his third dram with +a friend, who was telling him a long story about the purchase of a hamper of +potatoes.[*] When he had emptied his glass, he went to chat with Monsieur +Lebigre in a little glazed compartment at the end of the room, where the gas +had not yet been lighted. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] At the Paris central markets potatoes are sold by the hamper, not by the +sack as in England.—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +“What will you take?” Claude asked of Florent. +</p> + +<p> +He had on entering grasped the hand of the person who had called out to him. +This was a market porter,[*] a well-built young man of two and twenty at the +most. His cheeks and chin were clean-shaven, but he wore a small moustache, and +looked a sprightly, strapping fellow with his broad-brimmed hat covered with +chalk, and his wool-worked neck-piece, the straps falling from which tightened +his short blue blouse. Claude, who called him Alexandre, patted his arms, and +asked him when they were going to Charentonneau again. Then they talked about a +grand excursion they had made together in a boat on the Marne, when they had +eaten a rabbit for supper in the evening. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] <i>Fort</i> is the French term, literally “a strong man,” as +every market porter needs to be.—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what will you take?” Claude again asked Florent. +</p> + +<p> +The latter looked at the counter in great embarrassment. At one end of it some +stoneware pots, encircled with brass bands and containing punch and hot wine, +were standing over the short blue flames of a gas stove. Florent at last +confessed that a glass of something warm would be welcome. Monsieur Lebigre +thereupon served them with three glasses of punch. In a basket near the pots +were some smoking hot rolls which had only just arrived. However, as neither of +the others took one, Florent likewise refrained, and drank his punch. He felt +it slipping down into his empty stomach, like a steam of molten lead. It was +Alexandre who paid for the “shout.” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a fine fellow, that Alexandre!” said Claude, when he +and Florent found themselves alone again on the footway of the Rue Rambuteau. +“He’s a very amusing companion to take into the country. He’s +fond of showing his strength. And then he’s so magnificently built! I +have seen him stripped. Ah, if I could only get him to pose for me in the nude +out in the open air! Well, we’ll go and take a turn through the markets +now, if you like.” +</p> + +<p> +Florent followed, yielding entirely to his new friend’s guidance. A +bright glow at the far end of the Rue Rambuteau announced the break of day. The +far-spreading voice of the markets was become more sonorous, and every now and +then the peals of a bell ringing in some distant pavilion mingled with the +swelling, rising clamour. Claude and Florent entered one of the covered streets +between the fish and poultry pavilions. Florent raised his eyes and looked at +the lofty vault overhead, the inner timbers of which glistened amidst a black +lacework of iron supports. As he turned into the great central thoroughfare he +pictured himself in some strange town, with its various districts and suburbs, +promenades and streets, squares and cross-roads, all suddenly placed under +shelter on a rainy day by the whim of some gigantic power. The deep gloom +brooding in the hollows of the roofs multiplied, as it were, the forest of +pillars, and infinitely increased the number of the delicate ribs, railed +galleries, and transparent shutters. And over the phantom city and far away +into the depths of the shade, a teeming, flowering vegetation of luxuriant +metal-work, with spindle-shaped stems and twining knotted branches, covered the +vast expanse as with the foliage of some ancient forest. Several departments of +the markets still slumbered behind their closed iron gates. The butter and +poultry pavilions displayed rows of little trellised stalls and long alleys, +which lines of gas lights showed to be deserted. The fish market, however, had +just been opened, and women were flitting to and fro amongst the white slabs +littered with shadowy hampers and cloths. Among the vegetables and fruit and +flowers the noise and bustle were gradually increasing. The whole place was by +degree waking up, from the popular quarter where the cabbages are piled at four +o’clock in the morning, to the lazy and wealthy district which only hangs +up its pullets and pheasants when the hands of the clock point to eight. +</p> + +<p> +The great covered alleys were now teeming with life. All along the footways on +both sides of the road there were still many market gardeners, with other small +growers from the environs of Paris, who displayed baskets containing their +“gatherings” of the previous evening—bundles of vegetables +and clusters of fruit. Whilst the crowd incessantly paced hither and thither, +vehicles barred the road; and Florent, in order to pass them, had to press +against some dingy sacks, like coal-sacks in appearance, and so numerous and +heavy that the axle-trees of the vans bent beneath them. They were quite damp, +and exhaled a fresh odour of seaweed. From a rent low down in the side of one +of them a black stream of big mussels was trickling. +</p> + +<p> +Florent and Claude had now to pause at every step. The fish was arriving and +one after another the drays of the railway companies drove up laden with wooden +cages full of the hampers and baskets that had come by train from the sea +coast. And to get out of the way of the fish drays, which became more and more +numerous and disquieting, the artist and Florent rushed amongst the wheels of +the drays laden with butter and eggs and cheese, huge yellow vehicles bearing +coloured lanterns, and drawn by four horses. The market porters carried the +cases of eggs, and baskets of cheese and butter, into the auction pavilion, +where clerks were making entries in note books by the light of the gas. +</p> + +<p> +Claude was quite charmed with all this uproar, and forgot everything to gaze at +some effect of light, some group of blouses, or the picturesque unloading of a +cart. At last they extricated themselves from the crowd, and as they continued +on their way along the main artery they presently found themselves amidst an +exquisite perfume which seemed to be following them. They were in the +cut-flower market. All over the footways, to the right and left, women were +seated in front of large rectangular baskets full of bunches of roses, violets, +dahlias, and marguerites. At times the clumps darkened and looked like +splotches of blood, at others they brightened into silvery greys of the softest +tones. A lighted candle, standing near one basket, set amidst the general +blackness quite a melody of colour—the bright variegations of +marguerites, the blood-red crimson of dahlias, the bluey purple of violets, and +the warm flesh tints of roses. And nothing could have been sweeter or more +suggestive of springtide than this soft breath of perfume encountered on the +footway, on emerging from the sharp odours of the fish market and the +pestilential smell of the butter and the cheese. +</p> + +<p> +Claude and Florent turned round and strolled about, loitering among the +flowers. They halted with some curiosity before several women who were selling +bunches of fern and bundles of vine-leaves, neatly tied up in packets of five +and twenty. Then they turned down another covered alley, which was almost +deserted, and where their footsteps echoed as though they had been walking +through a church. Here they found a little cart, scarcely larger than a +wheelbarrow, to which was harnessed a diminutive donkey, who, no doubt, felt +bored, for at sight of them he began braying with such prolonged and sonorous +force that the vast roofing of the markets fairly trembled. Then the horses +began to neigh in reply, there was a sound of pawing and tramping, a distant +uproar, which swelled, rolled along, then died away. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, in the Rue Berger in front of them, Claude and Florent perceived a +number of bare, frontless, salesmen’s shops, where, by the light of +flaring gas jets, they could distinguish piles of hampers and fruit, enclosed +by three dirty walls which were covered with addition sums in pencil. And the +two wanderers were still standing there, contemplating this scene, when they +noticed a well-dressed woman huddled up in a cab which looked quite lost and +forlorn in the block of carts as it stealthily made its way onwards. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s Cinderella coming back without her slippers,” +remarked Claude with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +They began chatting together as they went back towards the markets. Claude +whistled as he strolled along with his hands in his pockets, and expatiated on +his love for this mountain of food which rises every morning in the very centre +of Paris. He prowled about the footways night after night, dreaming of colossal +still-life subjects, paintings of an extraordinary character. He had even +started on one, having his friend Marjolin and that jade Cadine to pose for +him; but it was hard work to paint those confounded vegetables and fruit and +fish and meat—they were all so beautiful! Florent listened to the +artist’s enthusiastic talk with a void and hunger-aching stomach. It did +not seem to occur to Claude that all those things were intended to be eaten. +Their charm for him lay in their colour. Suddenly, however, he ceased speaking +and, with a gesture that was habitual to him, tightened the long red sash which +he wore under his green-stained coat. +</p> + +<p> +And then with a sly expression he resumed: +</p> + +<p> +“Besides, I breakfast here, through my eyes, at any rate, and +that’s better than getting nothing at all. Sometimes, when I’ve +forgotten to dine on the previous day, I treat myself to a perfect fit of +indigestion in the morning by watching the carts arrive here laden with all +sorts of good things. On such mornings as those I love my vegetables more than +ever. Ah! the exasperating part, the rank injustice of it all, is that those +rascally Philistines really eat these things!” +</p> + +<p> +Then he went on to tell Florent of a supper to which a friend had treated him +at Baratte’s on a day of affluence. They had partaken of oysters, fish, +and game. But Baratte’s had sadly fallen, and all the carnival life of +the old Marché des Innocents was now buried. In place thereof they had those +huge central markets, that colossus of ironwork, that new and wonderful town. +Fools might say what they liked; it was the embodiment of the spirit of the +times. Florent, however, could not at first make out whether he was condemning +the picturesqueness of Baratte’s or its good cheer. +</p> + +<p> +But Claude next began to inveigh against romanticism. He preferred his piles of +vegetables, he said, to the rags of the middle ages; and he ended by +reproaching himself with guilty weakness in making an etching of the Rue +Pirouette. All those grimy old places ought to be levelled to the ground, he +declared, and modern houses ought to be built in their stead. +</p> + +<p> +“There!” he exclaimed, coming to a halt, “look at the corner +of the footway yonder! Isn’t that a picture readymade, ever so much more +human and natural than all their confounded consumptive daubs?” +</p> + +<p> +Along the covered way women were now selling hot soup and coffee. At one corner +of the foot-pavement a large circle of customers clustered round a vendor of +cabbage soup. The bright tin caldron, full of broth, was steaming over a little +low stove, through the holes of which came the pale glow of the embers. From a +napkin-lined basket the woman took some thin slices of bread and dropped them +into yellow cups; then with a ladle she filled the cups with liquor. Around her +were saleswomen neatly dressed, market gardeners in blouses, porters with coats +soiled by the loads they had carried, poor ragged vagabonds—in fact, all +the early hungry ones of the markets, eating, and scalding their mouths, and +drawing back their chins to avoid soiling them with the drippings from their +spoons. The delighted artist blinked, and sought a point of view so as to get a +good ensemble of the picture. That cabbage soup, however, exhaled a very strong +odour. Florent, for his part, turned his head away, distressed by the sight of +the full cups which the customers emptied in silence, glancing around them the +while like suspicious animals. As the woman began serving a fresh customer, +Claude himself was affected by the odorous steam of the soup, which was wafted +full in his face. +</p> + +<p> +He again tightened his sash, half amused and half annoyed. Then resuming his +walk, and alluding to the punch paid for by Alexandre, he said to Florent in a +low voice: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s very odd, but have you ever noticed that although a man can +always find somebody to treat him to something to drink, he can never find a +soul who will stand him anything to eat?” +</p> + +<p> +The dawn was now rising. The houses on the Boulevard de Sebastopol at the end +of the Rue de la Cossonnerie were still black; but above the sharp line of +their slate roofs a patch of pale blue sky, circumscribed by the arch-pieces of +the covered way, showed like a gleaming half-moon. Claude, who had been bending +over some grated openings on a level with the ground, through which a glimpse +could be obtained of deep cellars where gas lights glimmered, now glanced up +into the air between the lofty pillars, as though scanning the dark roofs which +fringed the clear sky. Then he halted again, with his eyes fixed on one of the +light iron ladders which connect the superposed market roofs and give access +from one to the other. Florent asked him what he was seeking there. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m looking for that scamp of a Marjolin,” replied the +artist. “He’s sure to be in some guttering up there, unless, +indeed, he’s been spending the night in the poultry cellars. I want him +to give me a sitting.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he went on to relate how a market saleswoman had found his friend Marjolin +one morning in a pile of cabbages, and how Marjolin had grown up in all liberty +on the surrounding footways. When an attempt had been made to send him to +school he had fallen ill, and it had been necessary to bring him back to the +markets. He knew every nook and corner of them, and loved them with a filial +affection, leading the agile life of a squirrel in that forest of ironwork. He +and Cadine, the hussy whom Mother Chantemesse had picked up one night in the +old Market of the Innocents, made a pretty couple—he, a splendid foolish +fellow, as glowing as a Rubens, with a ruddy down on his skin which attracted +the sunlight; and she, slight and sly, with a comical phiz under her tangle of +black curly hair. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst talking Claude quickened his steps, and soon brought his companion back +to Saint Eustache again. Florent, whose legs were once more giving way, dropped +upon a bench near the omnibus office. The morning air was freshening. At the +far end of the Rue Rambuteau rosy gleams were streaking the milky sky, which +higher up was slashed by broad grey rifts. Such was the sweet balsamic scent of +this dawn, that Florent for a moment fancied himself in the open country, on +the brow of a hill. But behind the bench Claude pointed out to him the many +aromatic herbs and bulbs on sale. All along the footway skirting the tripe +market there were, so to say, fields of thyme and lavender, garlic and +shallots; and round the young plane-trees on the pavement the vendors had +twined long branches of laurel, forming trophies of greenery. The strong scent +of the laurel leaves prevailed over every other odour. +</p> + +<p> +At present the luminous dial of Saint Eustache was paling as a night-light does +when surprised by the dawn. The gas jets in the wine shops in the neighbouring +streets went out one by one, like stars extinguished by the brightness. And +Florent gazed at the vast markets now gradually emerging from the gloom, from +the dreamland in which he had beheld them, stretching out their ranges of open +palaces. Greenish-grey in hue, they looked more solid now, and even more +colossal with their prodigious masting of columns upholding an endless expanse +of roofs. They rose up in geometrically shaped masses; and when all the inner +lights had been extinguished and the square uniform buildings were steeped in +the rising dawn, they seemed typical of some gigantic modern machine, some +engine, some caldron for the supply of a whole people, some colossal belly, +bolted and riveted, built up of wood and glass and iron, and endowed with all +the elegance and power of some mechanical motive appliance working there with +flaring furnaces, and wild, bewildering revolutions of wheels. +</p> + +<p> +Claude, however, had enthusiastically sprung on to the bench, and stood upon +it. He compelled his companion to admire the effect of the dawn rising over the +vegetables. There was a perfect sea of these extending between the two clusters +of pavilions from Saint Eustache to the Rue des Halles. And in the two open +spaces at either end the flood of greenery rose to even greater height, and +quite submerged the pavements. The dawn appeared slowly, softly grey in hue, +and spreading a light water-colour tint over everything. These surging piles +akin to hurrying waves, this river of verdure rushing along the roadway like an +autumn torrent, assumed delicate shadowy tints—tender violet, blush-rose, +and greeny yellow, all the soft, light hues which at sunrise make the sky look +like a canopy of shot silk. And by degrees, as the fires of dawn rose higher +and higher at the far end of the Rue Rambuteau, the mass of vegetation grew +brighter and brighter, emerging more and more distinctly from the bluey gloom +that clung to the ground. Salad herbs, cabbage-lettuce, endive, and succory, +with rich soil still clinging to their roots, exposed their swelling hearts; +bundles of spinach, bundles of sorrel, clusters of artichokes, piles of peas +and beans, mounds of cos-lettuce, tied round with straws, sounded every note in +the whole gamut of greenery, from the sheeny lacquer-like green of the pods to +the deep-toned green of the foliage; a continuous gamut with ascending and +descending scales which died away in the variegated tones of the heads of +celery and bundles of leeks. But the highest and most sonorous notes still came +from the patches of bright carrots and snowy turnips, strewn in prodigious +quantities all along the markets and lighting them up with the medley of their +two colours. +</p> + +<p> +At the crossway in the Rue des Halles cabbages were piled up in mountains; +there were white ones, hard and compact as metal balls, curly savoys, whose +great leaves made them look like basins of green bronze, and red cabbages, +which the dawn seemed to transform into superb masses of bloom with the hue of +wine-lees, splotched with dark purple and carmine. At the other side of the +markets, at the crossway near Saint Eustache, the end of the Rue Rambuteau was +blocked by a barricade of orange-hued pumpkins, sprawling with swelling bellies +in two superposed rows. And here and there gleamed the glistening ruddy brown +of a hamper of onions, the blood-red crimson of a heap of tomatoes, the quiet +yellow of a display of marrows, and the sombre violet of the fruit of the +eggplant; while numerous fat black radishes still left patches of gloom amidst +the quivering brilliance of the general awakening. +</p> + +<p> +Claude clapped his hands at the sight. He declared that those “blackguard +vegetables” were wild, mad, sublime! He stoutly maintained that they were +not yet dead, but, gathered in the previous evening, waited for the morning sun +to bid him good-bye from the flag-stones of the market. He could observe their +vitality, he declared, see their leaves stir and open as though their roots +were yet firmly and warmly embedded in well-manured soil. And here, in the +markets, he added, he heard the death-rattle of all the kitchen gardens of the +environs of Paris. +</p> + +<p> +A crowd of white caps, loose black jackets, and blue blouses was swarming in +the narrow paths between the various piles. The big baskets of the market +porters passed along slowly, above the heads of the throng. Retail dealers, +costermongers, and greengrocers were making their purchases in haste. Corporals +and nuns clustered round the mountains of cabbages, and college cooks prowled +about inquisitively, on the look-out for good bargains. The unloading was still +going on; heavy tumbrels, discharging their contents as though these were so +many paving-stones, added more and more waves to the sea of greenery which was +now beating against the opposite footways. And from the far end of the Rue du +Pont Neuf fresh rows of carts were still and ever arriving. +</p> + +<p> +“What a fine sight it is!” exclaimed Claude in an ecstasy of +enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +Florent was suffering keenly. He fancied that all this was some supernatural +temptation, and, unwilling to look at the markets any longer, turned towards +Saint Eustache, a side view of which he obtained from the spot where he now +stood. With its roses, and broad arched windows, its bell-turret, and roofs of +slate, it looked as though painted in sepia against the blue of the sky. He +fixed his eyes at last on the sombre depths of the Rue Montorgueil, where +fragments of gaudy sign boards showed conspicuously, and on the corner of the +Rue Montmartre, where there were balconies gleaming with letters of gold. And +when he again glanced at the cross-roads, his gaze was solicited by other sign +boards, on which such inscriptions as “Druggist and Chemist,” +“Flour and Grain” appeared in big red and black capital letters +upon faded backgrounds. Near these corners, houses with narrow windows were now +awakening, setting amidst the newness and airiness of the Rue du Pont Neuf a +few of the yellow ancient facades of olden Paris. Standing at the empty windows +of the great drapery shop at the corner of the Rue Rambuteau a number of +spruce-looking counter-jumpers in their shirt sleeves, with snowy-white +wristbands and tight-fitting pantaloons, were “dressing” their +goods. Farther away, in the windows of the severe looking, barrack-like Guillot +establishment, biscuits in gilt wrappers and fancy cakes on glass stands were +tastefully set out. All the shops were now open; and workmen in white blouses, +with tools under their arms, were hurrying along the road. +</p> + +<p> +Claude had not yet got down from the bench. He was standing on tiptoe in order +to see the farther down the streets. Suddenly, in the midst of the crowd which +he overlooked, he caught sight of a fair head with long wavy locks, followed by +a little black one covered with curly tumbled hair. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo, Marjolin! Hallo, Cadine!” he shouted; and then, as his +voice was drowned by the general uproar, he jumped to the ground and started +off. But all at once, recollecting that he had left Florent behind him, he +hastily came back. “I live at the end of the Impasse des +Bourdonnais,” he said rapidly. “My name’s written in chalk on +the door, Claude Lantier. Come and see the etching of the Rue Pirouette.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he vanished. He was quite ignorant of Florent’s name, and, after +favouring him with his views on art, parted from him as he had met him, at the +roadside. +</p> + +<p> +Florent was now alone, and at first this pleased him. Ever since Madame +Francoise had picked him up in the Avenue de Neuilly he had been coming and +going in a state of pain fraught somnolence which had quite prevented him from +forming any definite ideas of his surroundings. Now at last he was at liberty +to do what he liked, and he tried to shake himself free from that intolerable +vision of teeming food by which he was pursued. But his head still felt empty +and dizzy, and all that he could find within him was a kind of vague fear. The +day was now growing quite bright, and he could be distinctly seen. He looked +down at his wretched shabby coat and trousers. He buttoned the first, dusted +the latter, and strove to make a bit of a toilet, fearing lest those black rags +of his should proclaim aloud whence he had come. He was seated in the middle of +the bench, by the side of some wandering vagabonds who had settled themselves +there while waiting for the sunrise. The neighbourhood of the markets is a +favourite spot with vagrants in the small hours of the morning. However, two +constables, still in night uniform, with cloaks and <i>kepis</i>, paced up and +down the footway side by side, their hands resting behind their backs; and +every time they passed the bench they glanced at the game which they scented +there. Florent felt sure that they recognised him, and were consulting together +about arresting him. At this thought his anguish of mind became extreme. He +felt a wild desire to get up and run away; but he did not dare to do so, and +was quite at a loss as to how he might take himself off. The repeated glances +of the constables, their cold, deliberate scrutiny caused him the keenest +torture. At length he rose from the bench, making a great effort to restrain +himself from rushing off as quickly as his long legs could carry him; and +succeeded in walking quietly away, though his shoulders quivered in the fear he +felt of suddenly feeling the rough hands of the constables clutching at his +collar from behind. +</p> + +<p> +He had now only one thought, one desire, which was to get away from the markets +as quickly as possible. He would wait and make his investigations later on, +when the footways should be clear. The three streets which met here—the +Rue Montmartre, Rue Montorgueil, and Rue Turbigo—filled him with +uneasiness. They were blocked by vehicles of all kinds, and their footways were +crowded with vegetables. Florent went straight along as far as the Rue Pierre +Lescot, but there the cress and the potato markets seemed to him insuperable +obstacles. So he resolved to take the Rue Rambuteau. On reaching the Boulevard +de Sebastopol, however, he came across such a block of vans and carts and +waggonettes that he turned back and proceeded along the Rue Saint Denis. Then +he got amongst the vegetables once more. Retail dealers had just set up their +stalls, formed of planks resting on tall hampers; and the deluge of cabbages +and carrots and turnips began all over again. The markets were overflowing. +Florent tried to make his escape from this pursuing flood which ever overtook +him in his flight. He tried the Rue de la Cossonnerie, the Rue Berger, the +Square des Innocents, the Rue de la Ferronnerie, and the Rue des Halles. And at +last he came to a standstill, quite discouraged and scared at finding himself +unable to escape from the infernal circle of vegetables, which now seemed to +dance around him, twining clinging verdure about his legs. +</p> + +<p> +The everlasting stream of carts and horses stretched away as far as the Rue de +Rivoli and the Place de l’Hôtel de Ville. Huge vans were carrying away +supplies for all the greengrocers and fruiterers of an entire district; +<i>chars-a-bancs</i> were starting for the suburbs with straining, groaning +sides. In the Rue de Pont Neuf Florent got completely bewildered. He stumbled +upon a crowd of hand-carts, in which numerous costermongers were arranging +their purchases. Amongst them he recognised Lacaille, who went off along the +Rue Saint Honoré, pushing a barrow of carrots and cauliflowers before him. +Florent followed him, in the hope that he would guide him out of the mob. The +pavement was now quite slippery, although the weather was dry, and the litter +of artichoke stalks, turnip tops, and leaves of all kinds made walking somewhat +dangerous. Florent stumbled at almost every step. He lost sight of Lacaille in +the Rue Vauvilliers, and on approaching the corn market he again found the +streets barricaded with vehicles. Then he made no further attempt to struggle; +he was once more in the clutch of the markets, and their stream of life bore +him back. Slowly retracing his steps, he presently found himself by Saint +Eustache again. +</p> + +<p> +He now heard the loud continuous rumbling of the waggons that were setting out +from the markets. Paris was doling out the daily food of its two million +inhabitants. These markets were like some huge central organ beating with giant +force, and sending the blood of life through every vein of the city. The uproar +was akin to that of colossal jaws—a mighty sound to which each phase of +the provisioning contributed, from the whip-cracking of the larger retail +dealers as they started off for the district markets to the dragging pit-a-pat +of the old shoes worn by the poor women who hawked their lettuces in baskets +from door to door. +</p> + +<p> +Florent turned into a covered way on the left, intersecting the group of four +pavilions whose deep silent gloom he had remarked during the night. He hoped +that he might there find a refuge, discover some corner in which he could hide +himself. But these pavilions were now as busy, as lively as the others. Florent +walked on to the end of the street. Drays were driving up at a quick trot, +crowding the market with cages full of live poultry, and square hampers in +which dead birds were stowed in deep layers. On the other side of the way were +other drays from which porters were removing freshly killed calves, wrapped in +canvas, and laid at full length in baskets, whence only the four bleeding +stumps of their legs protruded. There were also whole sheep, and sides and +quarters of beef. Butchers in long white aprons marked the meat with a stamp, +carried it off, weighted it, and hung it up on hooks in the auction room. +Florent, with his face close to the grating, stood gazing at the rows of +hanging carcasses, at the ruddy sheep and oxen and paler calves, all streaked +with yellow fat and sinews, and with bellies yawning open. Then he passed along +the sidewalk where the tripe market was held, amidst the pallid calves’ +feet and heads, the rolled tripe neatly packed in boxes, the brains delicately +set out in flat baskets, the sanguineous livers, and purplish kidneys. He +checked his steps in front of some long two-wheeled carts, covered with round +awnings, and containing sides of pork hung on each side of the vehicle over a +bed of straw. Seen from the back end, the interiors of the carts looked like +recesses of some tabernacle, like some taper-lighted chapel, such was the glow +of all the bare flesh they contained. And on the beds of straw were lines of +tin cans, full of the blood that had trickled from the pigs. Thereupon Florent +was attacked by a sort of rage. The insipid odour of the meat, the pungent +smell of the tripe exasperated him. He made his way out of the covered road, +preferring to return once more to the footwalk of the Rue de Pont Neuf. +</p> + +<p> +He was enduring perfect agony. The shiver of early morning came upon him; his +teeth chattered, and he was afraid of falling to the ground and finding himself +unable to rise again. He looked about, but could see no vacant place on any +bench. Had he found one he would have dropped asleep there, even at the risk of +being awakened by the police. Then, as giddiness nearly blinded him, he leaned +for support against a tree, with his eyes closed and his ears ringing. The raw +carrot, which he had swallowed almost without chewing, was torturing his +stomach, and the glass of punch which he had drunk seemed to have intoxicated +him. He was indeed intoxicated with misery, weariness, and hunger. Again he +felt a burning fire in the pit of the stomach, to which he every now and then +carried his hands, as though he were trying to stop up a hole through which all +his life was oozing away. As he stood there he fancied that the foot-pavement +rocked beneath him; and thinking that he might perhaps lessen his sufferings by +walking, he went straight on through the vegetables again. He lost himself +among them. He went along a narrow footway, turned down another, was forced to +retrace his steps, bungled in doing so, and once more found himself amidst +piles of greenery. Some heaps were so high that people seemed to be walking +between walls of bundles and bunches. Only their heads slightly overtopped +these ramparts, and passed along showing whitely or blackly according to the +colour of their hats or caps; whilst the huge swinging baskets, carried aloft +on a level with the greenery, looked like osier boats floating on a stagnant, +mossy lake. +</p> + +<p> +Florent stumbled against a thousand obstacles—against porters taking up +their burdens, and saleswomen disputing in rough tones. He slipped over the +thick bed of waste leaves and stumps which covered the footway, and was almost +suffocated by the powerful odour of crushed verdure. At last he halted in a +sort of confused stupor, and surrendered to the pushing of some and the insults +of others; and then he became a mere waif, a piece of wreckage tossed about on +the surface of that surging sea. +</p> + +<p> +He was fast losing all self-respect, and would willingly have begged. The +recollection of his foolish pride during the night exasperated him. If he had +accepted Madame Francois’s charity, if he had not felt such idiotic fear +of Claude, he would not now have been stranded there groaning in the midst of +these cabbages. And he was especially angry with himself for not having +questioned the artist when they were in the Rue Pirouette. Now, alas! he was +alone and deserted, liable to die in the streets like a homeless dog. +</p> + +<p> +For the last time he raised his eyes and looked at the markets. At present they +were glittering in the sun. A broad ray was pouring through the covered road +from the far end, cleaving the massy pavilions with an arcade of light, whilst +fiery beams rained down upon the far expanse of roofs. The huge iron framework +grew less distinct, assumed a bluey hue, became nothing but a shadowy +silhouette outlined against the flaming flare of the sunrise. But up above a +pane of glass took fire, drops of light trickled down the broad sloping zinc +plates to the gutterings; and then, below, a tumultuous city appeared amidst a +haze of dancing golden dust. The general awakening had spread, from the first +start of the market gardeners snoring in their cloaks, to the brisk rolling of +the food-laden railway drays. And the whole city was opening its iron gates, +the footways were humming, the pavilions roaring with life. Shouts and cries of +all kinds rent the air; it was as though the strain, which Florent had heard +gathering force in the gloom ever since four in the morning, had now attained +its fullest volume. To the right and left, on all sides indeed, the sharp cries +accompanying the auction sales sounded shrilly like flutes amidst the sonorous +bass roar of the crowd. It was the fish, the butter, the poultry, and the meat +being sold. +</p> + +<p> +The pealing of bells passed through the air, imparting a quiver to the buzzing +of the opening markets. Around Florent the sun was setting the vegetables +aflame. He no longer perceived any of those soft water-colour tints which had +predominated in the pale light of early morning. The swelling hearts of the +lettuces were now gleaming brightly, the scales of greenery showed forth with +wondrous vigour, the carrots glowed blood-red, the turnips shone as if +incandescent in the triumphant radiance of the sun. +</p> + +<p> +On Florent’s left some waggons were discharging fresh loads of cabbages. +He turned his eyes, and away in the distance saw carts yet streaming out of the +Rue Turbigo. The tide was still and ever rising. He had felt it about his +ankles, then on a level with his stomach, and now it was threatening to drown +him altogether. Blinded and submerged, his ears buzzing, his stomach +overpowered by all that he had seen, he asked for mercy; and wild grief took +possession of him at the thought of dying there of starvation in the very heart +of glutted Paris, amidst the effulgent awakening of her markets. Big hot tears +started from his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Walking on, he had now reached one of the larger alleys. Two women, one short +and old, the other tall and withered, passed him, talking together as they made +their way towards the pavilions. +</p> + +<p> +“So you’ve come to do your marketing, Mademoiselle Saget?” +said the tall withered woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes, Madame Lecœur, if you can give it such a name as marketing. +I’m a lone woman, you know, and live on next to nothing. I should have +liked a small cauliflower, but everything is so dear. How is butter selling +to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +“At thirty-four sous. I have some which is first rate. Will you come and +look at it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I don’t know if I shall want any to-day; I’ve still a +little lard left.” +</p> + +<p> +Making a supreme effort, Florent followed these two women. He recollected +having heard Claude name the old one—Mademoiselle Saget—when they +were in the Rue Pirouette; and he made up his mind to question her when she +should have parted from her tall withered acquaintance. +</p> + +<p> +“And how’s your niece?” Mademoiselle Saget now asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, La Sarriette does as she likes,” Madame Lecœur replied in a +bitter tone. “She’s chosen to set up for herself and her affairs no +longer concern me. When her lovers have beggared her, she needn’t come to +me for any bread.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you were so good to her, too! She ought to do well this year; fruit +is yielding big profits. And your brother-in-law, how is he?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he——” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lecœur bit her lips, and seemed disinclined to say anything more. +</p> + +<p> +“Still the same as ever, I suppose?” continued Mademoiselle Saget. +“He’s a very worthy man. Still, I once heard it said that he spent +his money in such a way that—” +</p> + +<p> +“But does anyone know how he spends his money?” interrupted Madame +Lecœur, with much asperity. “He’s a miserly niggard, a scurvy +fellow, that’s what I say! Do you know, mademoiselle, he’d see me +die of starvation rather than lend me five francs! He knows quite well that +there’s nothing to be made out of butter this season, any more than out +of cheese and eggs; whereas he can sell as much poultry as ever he chooses. But +not once, I assure you, not once has he offered to help me. I am too proud, as +you know, to accept any assistance from him; still it would have pleased me to +have had it offered.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, by the way, there he is, your brother-in-law!” suddenly +exclaimed Mademoiselle Saget, lowering her voice. +</p> + +<p> +The two women turned and gazed at a man who was crossing the road to enter the +covered way close by. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m in a hurry,” murmured Madame Lecœur. “I left my +stall without anyone to look after it; and, besides, I don’t want to +speak to him.” +</p> + +<p> +However, Florent also had mechanically turned round and glanced at the +individual referred to. This was a short, squarely-built man, with a cheery +look and grey, close-cut brush-like hair. Under each arm he was carrying a fat +goose, whose head hung down and flapped against his legs. And then all at once +Florent made a gesture of delight. Forgetting his fatigue, he ran after the +man, and, overtaking him, tapped him on the shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Gavard!” he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +The other raised his head and stared with surprise at Florent’s tall +black figure, which he did not at first recognise. Then all at once: +“What! is it you?” he cried, as if overcome with amazement. +“Is it really you?” +</p> + +<p> +He all but let his geese fall, and seemed unable to master his surprise. On +catching sight, however, of his sister-in-law and Mademoiselle Saget, who were +watching the meeting at a distance, he began to walk on again. +</p> + +<p> +“Come along; don’t let us stop here,” he said. “There +are too many eyes and tongues about.” +</p> + +<p> +When they were in the covered way they began to chat. Florent related how he +had gone to the Rue Pirouette, at which Gavard seemed much amused and laughed +heartily. Then he told Florent that his brother Quenu had moved from that +street and had reopened his pork shop close by, in the Rue Rambuteau, just in +front of the markets. And afterwards he was again highly amused to hear that +Florent had been wandering about all that morning with Claude Lantier, an odd +kind of fish, who, strangely enough, said he, was Madame Quenu’s nephew. +Thus chatting, Gavard was on the point of taking Florent straight to the pork +shop, but, on hearing that he had returned to France with false papers, he +suddenly assumed all sorts of solemn and mysterious airs, and insisted upon +walking some fifteen paces in front of him, to avoid attracting attention. +After passing through the poultry pavilion, where he hung his geese up in his +stall, he began to cross the Rue Rambuteau, still followed by Florent; and +then, halting in the middle of the road, he glanced significantly towards a +large and well-appointed pork shop. +</p> + +<p> +The sun was obliquely enfilading the Rue Rambuteau, lighting up the fronts of +the houses, in the midst of which the Rue Pirouette formed a dark gap. At the +other end the great pile of Saint Eustache glittered brightly in the sunlight +like some huge reliquary. And right through the crowd, from the distant +crossway, an army of street-sweepers was advancing in file down the road, the +brooms swishing rhythmically, while scavengers provided with forks pitched the +collected refuse into tumbrels, which at intervals of a score of paces halted +with a noise like the chattering of broken pots. However, all Florent’s +attention was concentrated on the pork shop, open and radiant in the rising +sun. +</p> + +<p> +It stood very near the corner of the Rue Pirouette and provided quite a feast +for the eyes. Its aspect was bright and smiling, touches of brilliant colour +showing conspicuously amidst all the snowy marble. The sign board, on which the +name of QUENU-GRADELLE glittered in fat gilt letters encircled by leaves and +branches painted on a soft-hued background, was protected by a sheet of glass. +On two panels, one on each side of the shop-front, and both, like the board +above, covered with glass, were paintings representing various chubby little +cupids playing amidst boars’ heads, pork chops and strings of sausages; +and these latter still-life subjects, embellished with scrolls and bows, had +been painted in such soft tones that the uncooked pork which they represented +had the pinkiness of raspberry jam. Within this pleasing framework arose the +window display, arranged upon a bed of fine blue-paper shavings. Here and there +fern-leaves, tastefully disposed, changed the plates which they encircled into +bouquets fringed with foliage. There was a wealth of rich, luscious, melting +things. Down below, quite close to the window, jars of preserved sausage-meat +were interspersed with pots of mustard. Above these were some small, plump, +boned hams. Golden with their dressings of toasted bread-crumbs, and adorned at +the knuckles with green rosettes. Next came the larger dishes, some containing +preserved Strasburg tongues, enclosed in bladders coloured a bright red and +varnished, so that they looked quite sanguineous beside the pale sausages and +trotters; then there were black-puddings coiled like harmless snakes, healthy +looking chitterlings piled up two by two; Lyons sausages in little silver copes +that made them look like choristers; hot pies, with little banner-like tickets +stuck in them; big hams, and great glazed joints of veal and pork, whose jelly +was as limpid as sugar-candy. In the rear were other dishes and earthen pans in +which meat, minced and sliced, slumbered beneath lakes of melted fat. And +betwixt the various plates and dishes, jars and bottle of sauce, cullis, stock +and preserved truffles, pans of <i>foie gras</i> and boxes of sardines and +tunny-fish were strewn over the bed of paper shavings. A box of creamy cheeses, +and one of edible snails, the apertures of whose shells were dressed with +butter and parsley, had been placed carelessly at either corner. Finally, from +a bar overhead strings of sausages and saveloys of various sizes hung down +symmetrically like cords and tassels; while in the rear fragments of intestinal +membranes showed like lacework, like some <i>guipure</i> of white flesh. And on +the highest tier in this sanctuary of gluttony, amidst the membranes and +between two bouquets of purple gladioli, the window stand was crowned by a +small square aquarium, ornamented with rock-work, and containing a couple of +gold-fish, which were continually swimming round it. +</p> + +<p> +Florent’s whole body thrilled at the sight. Then he perceived a woman +standing in the sunlight at the door of the shop. With her prosperous, happy +look in the midst of all those inviting things she added to the cherry aspect +of the place. She was a fine woman and quite blocked the doorway. Still, she +was not over stout, but simply buxom, with the full ripeness of her thirty +years. She had only just risen, yet her glossy hair was already brushed smooth +and arranged in little flat bands over her temples, giving her an appearance of +extreme neatness. She had the fine skin, the pinky-white complexion common to +those whose life is spent in an atmosphere of raw meat and fat. There was a +touch of gravity about her demeanour, her movements were calm and slow; what +mirth or pleasure she felt she expressed by her eyes, her lips retaining all +their seriousness. A collar of starched linen encircled her neck, white +sleevelets reached to her elbows, and a white apron fell even over the tips of +her shoes, so that you saw but little of her black cashmere dress, which clung +tightly to her well-rounded shoulders and swelling bosom. The sun rays poured +hotly upon all the whiteness she displayed. However, although her bluish-black +hair, her rosy face, and bright sleeves and apron were steeped in the glow of +light, she never once blinked, but enjoyed her morning bath of sunshine with +blissful tranquillity, her soft eyes smiling the while at the flow and riot of +the markets. She had the appearance of a very worthy woman. +</p> + +<p> +“That is your brother’s wife, your sister-in-law, Lisa,” +Gavard said to Florent. +</p> + +<p> +He had saluted her with a slight inclination of the head. Then he darted along +the house passage, continuing to take the most minute precautions, and +unwilling to let Florent enter the premises through the shop, though there was +no one there. It was evident that he felt great pleasure in dabbling in what he +considered to be a compromising business. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait here,” he said, “while I go to see whether your brother +is alone. You can come in when I clap my hands.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon he opened a door at the end of the passage. But as soon as Florent +heard his brother’s voice behind it, he sprang inside at a bound. Quenu, +who was much attached to him, threw his arms round his neck, and they kissed +each other like children. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! dash it all! Is it really you, my dear fellow?” stammered the +pork butcher. “I never expected to see you again. I felt sure you were +dead! Why, only yesterday I was saying to Lisa, ‘That poor fellow, +Florent!’” +</p> + +<p> +However, he stopped short, and popping his head into the shop, called out, +“Lisa! Lisa!” Then turning towards a little girl who had crept into +a corner, he added, “Pauline, go and find your mother.” +</p> + +<p> +The little one did not stir, however. She was an extremely fine child, five +years of age, with a plump chubby face, bearing a strong resemblance to that of +the pork butcher’s wife. In her arms she was holding a huge yellow cat, +which had cheerfully surrendered itself to her embrace, with its legs dangling +downwards; and she now squeezed it tightly with her little arms, as if she were +afraid that yonder shabby-looking gentleman might rob her of it. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa, however, leisurely made her appearance. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is my brother Florent!” exclaimed Quenu. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa addressed him as “Monsieur,” and gave him a kindly welcome. +She scanned him quietly from head to foot, without evincing any disagreeable +surprise. Merely a faint pout appeared for a moment on her lips. Then, standing +by, she began to smile at her husband’s demonstrations of affection. +Quenu, however, at last recovered his calmness, and noticing Florent’s +fleshless, poverty-stricken appearance, exclaimed: “Ah, my poor fellow, +you haven’t improved in your looks since you were over yonder. For my +part, I’ve grown fat; but what would you have!” +</p> + +<p> +He had indeed grown fat, too fat for his thirty years. He seemed to be bursting +through his shirt and apron, through all the snowy-white linen in which he was +swathed like a huge doll. With advancing years his clean-shaven face had become +elongated, assuming a faint resemblance to the snout of one of those pigs +amidst whose flesh his hands worked and lived the whole day through. Florent +scarcely recognised him. He had now seated himself, and his glance turned from +his brother to handsome Lisa and little Pauline. They were all brimful of +health, squarely built, sleek, in prime condition; and in their turn they +looked at Florent with the uneasy astonishment which corpulent people feel at +the sight of a scraggy person. The very cat, whose skin was distended by fat, +dilated its yellow eyes and scrutinised him with an air of distrust. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll wait till we have breakfast, won’t you?” asked +Quenu. “We have it early, at ten o’clock.” +</p> + +<p> +A penetrating odour of cookery pervaded the place; and Florent looked back upon +the terrible night which he had just spent, his arrival amongst the vegetables, +his agony in the midst of the markets, the endless avalanches of food from +which he had just escaped. And then in a low tone and with a gentle smile he +responded: +</p> + +<p> +“No; I’m really very hungry, you see.” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap02"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<p> +Florent had just begun to study law in Paris when his mother died. She lived at +Le Vigan, in the department of the Gard, and had taken for her second husband +one Quenu, a native of Yvetot in Normandy, whom some sub-prefect had +transplanted to the south and then forgotten there. He had remained in +employment at the sub-prefecture, finding the country charming, the wine good, +and the women very amiable. Three years after his marriage he had been carried +off by a bad attack of indigestion, leaving as sole legacy to his wife a sturdy +boy who resembled him. It was only with very great difficulty that the widow +could pay the college fees of Florent, her elder son, the issue of her first +marriage. He was a very gentle youth, devoted to his studies, and constantly +won the chief prizes at school. It was upon him that his mother lavished all +her affection and based all her hopes. Perhaps, in bestowing so much love on +this slim pale youth, she was giving evidence of her preference for her first +husband, a tender-hearted, caressing Provençal, who had loved her devotedly. +Quenu, whose good humour and amiability had at first attracted her, had perhaps +displayed too much self-satisfaction, and shown too plainly that he looked upon +himself as the main source of happiness. At all events she formed the opinion +that her younger son—and in southern families younger sons are still +often sacrificed—would never do any good; so she contented herself with +sending him to a school kept by a neighbouring old maid, where the lad learned +nothing but how to idle his time away. The two brothers grew up far apart from +each other, as though they were strangers. +</p> + +<p> +When Florent arrived at Le Vigan his mother was already buried. She had +insisted upon having her illness concealed from him till the very last moment, +for fear of disturbing his studies. Thus he found little Quenu, who was then +twelve years old, sitting and sobbing alone on a table in the middle of the +kitchen. A furniture dealer, a neighbour, gave him particulars of his +mother’s last hours. She had reached the end of her resources, had killed +herself by the hard work which she had undertaken to earn sufficient money that +her elder son might continue his legal studies. To her modest trade in ribbons, +the profits of which were but small, she had been obliged to add other +occupations, which kept her up very late at night. Her one idea of seeing +Florent established as an advocate, holding a good position in the town, had +gradually caused her to become hard and miserly, without pity for either +herself or others. Little Quenu was allowed to wander about in ragged breeches, +and in blouses from which the sleeves were falling away. He never dared to +serve himself at table, but waited till he received his allowance of bread from +his mother’s hands. She gave herself equally thin slices, and it was to +the effects of this regimen that she had succumbed, in deep despair at having +failed to accomplish her self-allotted task. +</p> + +<p> +This story made a most painful impression upon Florent’s tender nature, +and his sobs wellnigh choked him. He took his little half brother in his arms, +held him to his breast, and kissed him as though to restore to him the love of +which he had unwittingly deprived him. Then he looked at the lad’s gaping +shoes, torn sleeves, and dirty hands, at all the manifest signs of wretchedness +and neglect. And he told him that he would take him away, and that they would +both live happily together. The next day, when he began to inquire into +affairs, he felt afraid that he would not be able to keep sufficient money to +pay for the journey back to Paris. However, he was determined to leave Le Vigan +at any cost. He was fortunately able to sell the little ribbon business, and +this enabled him to discharge his mother’s debts, for despite her +strictness in money matters she had gradually run up bills. Then, as there was +nothing left, his mother’s neighbour, the furniture dealer, offered him +five hundred francs for her chattels and stock of linen. It was a very good +bargain for the dealer, but the young man thanked him with tears in his eyes. +He bought his brother some new clothes, and took him away that same evening. +</p> + +<p> +On his return to Paris he gave up all thought of continuing to attend the Law +School, and postponed every ambitious project. He obtained a few pupils, and +established himself with little Quenu in the Rue Royer Collard, at the corner +of the Rue Saint Jacques, in a big room which he furnished with two iron +bedsteads, a wardrobe, a table, and four chairs. He now had a child to look +after, and this assumed paternity was very pleasing to him. During the earlier +days he attempted to give the lad some lessons when he returned home in the +evening, but Quenu was an unwilling pupil. He was dull of understanding, and +refused to learn, bursting into tears and regretfully recalling the time when +his mother had allowed him to run wild in the streets. Florent thereupon +stopped his lessons in despair, and to console the lad promised him a holiday +of indefinite length. As an excuse for his own weakness he repeated that he had +not brought his brother to Paris to distress him. To see him grow up in +happiness became his chief desire. He quite worshipped the boy, was charmed +with his merry laughter, and felt infinite joy in seeing him about him, healthy +and vigorous, and without a care. Florent for his part remained very slim and +lean in his threadbare coat, and his face began to turn yellow amidst all the +drudgery and worry of teaching; but Quenu grew up plump and merry, a little +dense, indeed, and scarce able to read or write, but endowed with high spirits +which nothing could ruffle, and which filled the big gloomy room in the Rue +Royer Collard with gaiety. +</p> + +<p> +Years, meantime, passed by. Florent, who had inherited all his mother’s +spirit of devotion, kept Quenu at home as though he were a big, idle girl. He +did not even suffer him to perform any petty domestic duties, but always went +to buy the provisions himself, and attended to the cooking and other necessary +matters. This kept him, he said, from indulging in his own bad thoughts. He was +given to gloominess, and fancied that he was disposed to evil. When he returned +home in the evening, splashed with mud, and his head bowed by the annoyances to +which other people’s children had subjected him, his heart melted beneath +the embrace of the sturdy lad whom he found spinning his top on the tiled +flooring of the big room. Quenu laughed at his brother’s clumsiness in +making omelettes, and at the serious fashion in which he prepared the soup-beef +and vegetables. When the lamp was extinguished, and Florent lay in bed, he +sometimes gave way to feelings of sadness. He longed to resume his legal +studies, and strove to map out his duties in such wise as to secure time to +follow the programme of the faculty. He succeeded in doing this, and was then +perfectly happy. But a slight attack of fever, which confined him to his room +for a week, made such a hole in his purse, and caused him so much alarm, that +he abandoned all idea of completing his studies. The boy was now getting a big +fellow, and Florent took a post as teacher in a school in the Rue de +l’Estrapade, at a salary of eighteen hundred francs per annum. This +seemed like a fortune to him. By dint of economy he hoped to be able to amass a +sum of money which would set Quenu going in the world. When the lad reached his +eighteenth year Florent still treated him as though he were a daughter for whom +a dowry must be provided. +</p> + +<p> +However, during his brother’s brief illness Quenu himself had made +certain reflections. One morning he proclaimed his desire to work, saying that +he was now old enough to earn his own living. Florent was deeply touched at +this. Just opposite, on the other side of the street, lived a working +watchmaker whom Quenu, through the curtainless window, could see leaning over a +little table, manipulating all sorts of delicate things, and patiently gazing +at them through a magnifying glass all day long. The lad was much attracted by +the sight, and declared that he had a taste for watchmaking. At the end of a +fortnight, however, he became restless, and began to cry like a child of ten, +complaining that the work was too complicated, and that he would never be able +to understand all the silly little things that enter into the construction of a +watch. +</p> + +<p> +His next whim was to be a locksmith; but this calling he found too fatiguing. +In a couple of years he tried more than ten different trades. Florent opined +that he acted rightly, that it was wrong to take up a calling one did not like. +However, Quenu’s fine eagerness to work for his living strained the +resources of the little establishment very seriously. Since he had begun +flitting from one workshop to another there had been a constant succession of +fresh expenses; money had gone in new clothes, in meals taken away from home, +and in the payment of footings among fellow workmen. Florent’s salary of +eighteen hundred francs was no longer sufficient, and he was obliged to take a +couple of pupils in the evenings. For eight years he had continued to wear the +same old coat. +</p> + +<p> +However, the two brothers had made a friend. One side of the house in which +they lived overlooked the Rue Saint Jacques, where there was a large +poultry-roasting establishment[*] kept by a worthy man called Gavard, whose +wife was dying from consumption amidst an atmosphere redolent of plump fowls. +When Florent returned home too late to cook a scrap of meat, he was in the +habit of laying out a dozen sous or so on a small portion of turkey or goose at +this shop. Such days were feast days. Gavard in time grew interested in this +tall, scraggy customer, learned his history, and invited Quenu into his shop. +Before long the young fellow was constantly to be found there. As soon as his +brother left the house he came downstairs and installed himself at the rear of +the roasting shop, quite enraptured with the four huge spits which turned with +a gentle sound in front of the tall bright flames. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] These rotisseries, now all but extinct, were at one time a particular +feature of the Parisian provision trade. I can myself recollect several akin to +the one described by M. Zola. I suspect that they largely owed their origin to +the form and dimensions of the ordinary Parisian kitchen stove, which did not +enable people to roast poultry at home in a convenient way. In the old French +cuisine, moreover, roast joints of meat were virtually unknown; roasting was +almost entirely confined to chickens, geese, turkeys, pheasants, etc.; and +among the middle classes people largely bought their poultry already cooked of +the <i>rotisseur</i>, or else confided it to him for the purpose of roasting, +in the same way as our poorer classes still send their joints to the +baker’s. Roasting was also long looked upon in France as a very delicate +art. Brillat-Savarin, in his famous <i>Physiologie du Gout</i>, lays down the +dictum that “A man may become a cook, but is born a +<i>rotisseur</i>.”—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +The broad copper bands of the fireplace glistened brightly, the poultry +steamed, the fat bubbled melodiously in the dripping-pan, and the spits seemed +to talk amongst themselves and to address kindly words to Quenu, who, with a +long ladle, devoutly basted the golden breasts of the fat geese and turkeys. He +would stay there for hours, quite crimson in the dancing glow of the flames, +and laughing vaguely, with a somewhat stupid expression, at the birds roasting +in front of him. Indeed, he did not awake from this kind of trance until the +geese and turkeys were unspitted. They were placed on dishes, the spits emerged +from their carcasses smoking hot, and a rich gravy flowed from either end and +filled the shop with a penetrating odour. Then the lad, who, standing up, had +eagerly followed every phase of the dishing, would clap his hands and begin to +talk to the birds, telling them that they were very nice, and would be eaten +up, and that the cats would have nothing but their bones. And he would give a +start of delight whenever Gavard handed him a slice of bread, which he +forthwith put into the dripping-pan that it might soak and toast there for half +an hour. +</p> + +<p> +It was in this shop, no doubt, that Quenu’s love of cookery took its +birth. Later on, when he had tried all sorts of crafts, he returned, as though +driven by fate, to the spits and the poultry and the savoury gravy which +induces one to lick one’s fingers. At first he was afraid of vexing his +brother, who was a small eater and spoke of good fare with the disdain of a man +who is ignorant of it; but afterwards, on seeing that Florent listened to him +when he explained the preparation of some very elaborate dish, he confessed his +desires and presently found a situation at a large restaurant. From that time +forward the life of the two brothers was settled. They continued to live in the +room in the Rue Royer Collard, whither they returned every evening; the one +glowing and radiant from his hot fire, the other with the depressed countenance +of a shabby, impecunious teacher. Florent still wore his old black coat, as he +sat absorbed in correcting his pupils’ exercises; while Quenu, to put +himself more at ease, donned his white apron, cap, and jacket, and, flitting +about in front of the stove, amused himself by baking some dainty in the oven. +Sometimes they smiled at seeing themselves thus attired, the one all in black, +the other all in white. These different garbs, one bright and the other sombre, +seemed to make the big room half gay and half mournful. Never, however, was +there so much harmony in a household marked by such dissimilarity. Though the +elder brother grew thinner and thinner, consumed by the ardent temperament +which he had inherited from his Provençal father, and the younger one waxed +fatter and fatter like a true son of Normandy, they loved each other in the +brotherhood they derived from their mother—a mother who had been all +devotion. +</p> + +<p> +They had a relation in Paris, a brother of their mother’s, one Gradelle, +who was in business as a pork butcher in the Rue Pirouette, near the central +markets. He was a fat, hard-hearted, miserly fellow, and received his nephews +as though they were starving paupers the first time they paid him a visit. They +seldom went to see him afterwards. On his nameday Quenu would take him a bunch +of flowers, and receive a half-franc piece in return for it. Florent’s +proud and sensitive nature suffered keenly when Gradelle scrutinised his shabby +clothes with the anxious, suspicious glance of a miser apprehending a request +for a dinner, or the loan of a five-franc piece. One day, however, it occurred +to Florent in all artlessness to ask his uncle to change a hundred-franc note +for him, and after this the pork butcher showed less alarm at sight of the +lads, as he called them. Still, their friendship got no further than these +infrequent visits. +</p> + +<p> +These years were like a long, sweet, sad dream to Florent. As they passed he +tasted to the full all the bitter joys of self-sacrifice. At home, in the big +room, life was all love and tenderness; but out in the world, amidst the +humiliations inflicted on him by his pupils, and the rough jostling of the +streets, he felt himself yielding to wicked thoughts. His slain ambitions +embittered him. It was long before he could bring himself to bow to his fate, +and accept with equanimity the painful lot of a poor, plain, commonplace man. +At last, to guard against the temptations of wickedness, he plunged into ideal +goodness, and sought refuge in a self-created sphere of absolute truth and +justice. It was then that he became a republican, entering into the republican +idea even as heart-broken girls enter a convent. And not finding a republic +where sufficient peace and kindliness prevailed to lull his troubles to sleep, +he created one for himself. He took no pleasure in books. All the blackened +paper amidst which he lived spoke of evil-smelling class-rooms, of pellets of +paper chewed by unruly schoolboys, of long, profitless hours of torture. +Besides, books only suggested to him a spirit of mutiny and pride, whereas it +was of peace and oblivion that he felt most need. To lull and soothe himself +with the ideal imaginings, to dream that he was perfectly happy, and that all +the world would likewise become so, to erect in his brain the republican city +in which he would fain have lived, such now became his recreation, the task, +again and again renewed, of all his leisure hours. He no longer read any books +beyond those which his duties compelled him to peruse; he preferred to tramp +along the Rue Saint Jacques as far as the outer boulevards, occasionally going +yet a greater distance and returning by the Barriere d’Italie; and all +along the road, with his eyes on the Quartier Mouffetard spread out at his +feet, he would devise reforms of great moral and humanitarian scope, such as he +thought would change that city of suffering into an abode of bliss. During the +turmoil of February 1848, when Paris was stained with blood he became quite +heartbroken, and rushed from one to another of the public clubs demanding that +the blood which had been shed should find atonement in “the fraternal +embrace of all republicans throughout the world.” He became one of those +enthusiastic orators who preached revolution as a new religion, full of +gentleness and salvation. The terrible days of December 1851, the days of the +Coup d’Etat, were required to wean him from his doctrines of universal +love. He was then without arms; allowed himself to be captured like a sheep, +and was treated as though he were a wolf. He awoke from his sermon on universal +brotherhood to find himself starving on the cold stones of a casemate at +Bicêtre. +</p> + +<p> +Quenu, when two and twenty, was distressed with anguish when his brother did +not return home. On the following day he went to seek his corpse at the +cemetery of Montmartre, where the bodies of those shot down on the boulevards +had been laid out in a line and covered with straw, from beneath which only +their ghastly heads projected. However, Quenu’s courage failed him, he +was blinded by his tears, and had to pass twice along the line of corpses +before acquiring the certainty that Florent’s was not among them. At +last, at the end of a long and wretched week, he learned at the Prefecture of +Police that his brother was a prisoner. He was not allowed to see him, and when +he pressed the matter the police threatened to arrest him also. Then he +hastened off to his uncle Gradelle, whom he looked upon as a person of +importance, hoping that he might be able to enlist his influence in +Florent’s behalf. But Gradelle waxed wrathful, declared that Florent +deserved his fate, that he ought to have known better than to have mixed +himself up with those rascally republicans. And he even added that Florent was +destined to turn out badly, that it was written on his face. +</p> + +<p> +Quenu wept copiously and remained there, almost choked by his sobs. His uncle, +a little ashamed of his harshness, and feeling that he ought to do something +for him, offered to receive him into his house. He wanted an assistant, and +knew that his nephew was a good cook. Quenu was so much alarmed by the mere +thought of going back to live alone in the big room in the Rue Royer Collard, +that then and there he accepted Gradelle’s offer. That same night he +slept in his uncle’s house, in a dark hole of a garret just under the +room, where there was scarcely space for him to lie at full length. However, he +was less wretched there than he would have been opposite his brother’s +empty couch. +</p> + +<p> +He succeeded at length in obtaining permission to see Florent; but on his +return from Bicêtre he was obliged to take to his bed. For nearly three weeks +he lay fever-stricken, in a stupefied, comatose state. Gradelle meantime called +down all sorts of maledictions on his republican nephew; and one morning, when +he heard of Florent’s departure for Cayenne, he went upstairs, tapped +Quenu on the hands, awoke him, and bluntly told him the news, thereby bringing +about such a reaction that on the following day the young man was up and about +again. His grief wore itself out, and his soft flabby flesh seemed to absorb +his tears. A month later he laughed again, and then grew vexed and unhappy with +himself for having been merry; but his natural light-heartedness soon gained +the mastery, and he laughed afresh in unconscious happiness. +</p> + +<p> +He now learned his uncle’s business, from which he derived even more +enjoyment than from cookery. Gradelle told him, however, that he must not +neglect his pots and pans, that it was rare to find a pork butcher who was also +a good cook, and that he had been lucky in serving in a restaurant before +coming to the shop. Gradelle, moreover, made full use of his nephew’s +acquirements, employed him to cook the dinners sent out to certain customers, +and placed all the broiling, and the preparation of pork chops garnished with +gherkins in his special charge. As the young man was of real service to him, he +grew fond of him after his own fashion, and would nip his plump arms when he +was in a good humour. Gradelle had sold the scanty furniture of the room in the +Rue Royer Collard and retained possession of the proceeds—some forty +francs or so—in order, said he, to prevent the foolish lad, Quenu, from +making ducks and drakes of the cash. After a time, however, he allowed his +nephew six francs a month a pocket-money. +</p> + +<p> +Quenu now became quite happy, in spite of the emptiness of his purse and the +harshness with which he was occasionally treated. He liked to have life doled +out to him; Florent had treated him too much like an indolent girl. Moreover, +he had made a friend at his uncle’s. Gradelle, when his wife died, had +been obliged to engage a girl to attend to the shop, and had taken care to +choose a healthy and attractive one, knowing that a good-looking girl would set +off his viands and help to tempt custom. Amongst his acquaintances was a widow, +living in the Rue Cuvier, near the Jardin des Plantes, whose deceased husband +had been postmaster at Plassans, the seat of a sub-prefecture in the south of +France. This lady, who lived in a very modest fashion on a small annuity, had +brought with her from Plassans a plump, pretty child, whom she treated as her +own daughter. Lisa, as the young one was called, attended upon her with much +placidity and serenity of disposition. Somewhat seriously inclined, she looked +quite beautiful when she smiled. Indeed, her great charm came from the +exquisite manner in which she allowed this infrequent smile of hers to escape +her. Her eyes then became most caressing, and her habitual gravity imparted +inestimable value to these sudden, seductive flashes. The old lady had often +said that one of Lisa’s smiles would suffice to lure her to perdition. +</p> + +<p> +When the widow died she left all her savings, amounting to some ten thousand +francs, to her adopted daughter. For a week Lisa lived alone in the Rue Cuvier; +it was there that Gradelle came in search of her. He had become acquainted with +her by often seeing her with her mistress when the latter called on him in the +Rue Pirouette; and at the funeral she had struck him as having grown so +handsome and sturdy that he had followed the hearse all the way to the +cemetery, though he had not intended to do so. As the coffin was being lowered +into the grave, he reflected what a splendid girl she would be for the counter +of a pork butcher’s shop. He thought the matter over, and finally +resolved to offer her thirty francs a month, with board and lodging. When he +made this proposal, Lisa asked for twenty-four hours to consider it. Then she +arrived one morning with a little bundle of clothes, and her ten thousand +francs concealed in the bosom of her dress. A month later the whole place +belonged to her; she enslaved Gradelle, Quenu, and even the smallest +kitchen-boy. For his part, Quenu would have cut off his fingers to please her. +When she happened to smile, he remained rooted to the floor, laughing with +delight as he gazed at her. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa was the eldest daughter of the Macquarts of Plassans, and her father was +still alive.[*] But she said that he was abroad, and never wrote to him. +Sometimes she just dropped a hint that her mother, now deceased, had been a +hard worker, and that she took after her. She worked, indeed, very assiduously. +However, she sometimes added that the worthy woman had slaved herself to death +in striving to support her family. Then she would speak of the respective +duties of husband and wife in such a practical though modest fashion as to +enchant Quenu. He assured her that he fully shared her ideas. These were that +everyone, man or woman, ought to work for his or her living, that everyone was +charged with the duty of achieving personal happiness, that great harm was done +by encouraging habits of idleness, and that the presence of so much misery in +the world was greatly due to sloth. This theory of hers was a sweeping +condemnation of drunkenness, of all the legendary loafing ways of her father +Macquart. But, though she did not know it, there was much of Macquart’s +nature in herself. She was merely a steady, sensible Macquart with a logical +desire for comfort, having grasped the truth of the proverb that as you make +your bed so you lie on it. To sleep in blissful warmth there is no better plan +than to prepare oneself a soft and downy couch; and to the preparation of such +a couch she gave all her time and all her thoughts. When no more than six years +old she had consented to remain quietly on her chair the whole day through on +condition that she should be rewarded with a cake in the evening. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] See M. Zola’s novel, <i>The Fortune of the +Rougons</i>.—Translator +</p> + +<p> +At Gradelle’s establishment Lisa went on leading the calm, methodical +life which her exquisite smiles illumined. She had not accepted the pork +butcher’s offer at random. She reckoned upon finding a guardian in him; +with the keen scent of those who are born lucky she perhaps foresaw that the +gloomy shop in the Rue Pirouette would bring her the comfortable future she +dreamed of—a life of healthy enjoyment, and work without fatigue, each +hour of which would bring its own reward. She attended to her counter with the +quiet earnestness with which she had waited upon the postmaster’s widow; +and the cleanliness of her aprons soon became proverbial in the neighbourhood. +Uncle Gradelle was so charmed with this pretty girl that sometimes, as he was +stringing his sausages, he would say to Quenu: “Upon my word, if I +weren’t turned sixty, I think I should be foolish enough to marry her. A +wife like she’d make is worth her weight in gold to a shopkeeper, my +lad.” +</p> + +<p> +Quenu himself was growing still fonder of her, though he laughed merrily one +day when a neighbour accused him of being in love with Lisa. He was not worried +with love-sickness. The two were very good friends, however. In the evening +they went up to their bedrooms together. Lisa slept in a little chamber +adjoining the dark hole which the young man occupied. She had made this room of +hers quite bright by hanging it with muslin curtains. The pair would stand +together for a moment on the landing, holding their candles in their hands, and +chatting as they unlocked their doors. Then, as they closed them, they said in +friendly tones: +</p> + +<p> +“Good night, Mademoiselle Lisa.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good night, Monsieur Quenu.” +</p> + +<p> +As Quenu undressed himself he listened to Lisa making her own preparations. The +partition between the two rooms was very thin. “There, she is drawing her +curtains now,” he would say to himself; “what can she be doing, I +wonder, in front of her chest of drawers? Ah! she’s sitting down now and +taking off her shoes. Now she’s blown her candle out. Well, good night. I +must get to sleep”; and at times, when he heard her bed creak as she got +into it, he would say to himself with a smile, “Dash it all! Mademoiselle +Lisa is no feather.” This idea seemed to amuse him, and presently he +would fall asleep thinking about the hams and salt pork that he had to prepare +the next morning. +</p> + +<p> +This state of affairs went on for a year without causing Lisa a single blush or +Quenu a moment’s embarrassment. When the girl came into the kitchen in +the morning at the busiest moment of the day’s work, they grasped hands +over the dishes of sausage-meat. Sometimes she helped him, holding the skins +with her plump fingers while he filled them with meat and fat. Sometimes, too, +with the tips of their tongues they just tasted the raw sausage-meat, to see if +it was properly seasoned. She was able to give Quenu some useful hints, for she +knew of many favourite southern recipes, with which he experimented with much +success. He was often aware that she was standing behind his shoulder, prying +into the pans. If he wanted a spoon or a dish, she would hand it to him. The +heat of the fire would bring their blood to their skins; still, nothing in the +world would have induced the young man to cease stirring the fatty +<i>bouillis</i> which were thickening over the fire while the girl stood +gravely by him, discussing the amount of boiling that was necessary. In the +afternoon, when the shop lacked customers, they quietly chatted together for +hours at a time. Lisa sat behind the counter, leaning back, and knitting in an +easy, regular fashion; while Quenu installed himself on a big oak block, +dangling his legs and tapping his heels against the wood. They got on +wonderfully well together, discussing all sorts of subjects, generally cookery, +and then Uncle Gradelle and the neighbours. Lisa also amused the young man with +stories, just as though he were a child. She knew some very pretty +ones—some miraculous legends, full of lambs and little angels, which she +narrated in a piping voice, with all her wonted seriousness. If a customer +happened to come in, she saved herself the trouble of moving by asking Quenu to +get the required pot of lard or box of snails. And at eleven o’clock they +went slowly up to bed as on the previous night. As they closed their doors, +they calmly repeated the words: +</p> + +<p> +“Good night, Mademoiselle Lisa.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good night, Monsieur Quenu.” +</p> + +<p> +One morning Uncle Gradelle was struck dead by apoplexy while preparing a +galantine. He fell forward, with his face against the chopping-block. Lisa did +not lose her self-possession. She remarked that the dead man could not be left +lying in the middle of the kitchen, and had the body removed into a little back +room where Gradelle had slept. Then she arranged with the assistants what +should be said. It must be given out that the master had died in his bed; +otherwise the whole district would be disgusted, and the shop would lose its +customers. Quenu helped to carry the dead man away, feeling quite confused, and +astonished at being unable to shed any tears. Presently, however, he and Lisa +cried together. Quenu and his brother Florent were the sole heirs. The gossips +of the neighbourhood credited old Gradelle with the possession of a +considerable fortune. However, not a single crown could be discovered. Lisa +seemed very restless and uneasy. Quenu noticed how pensive she became, how she +kept on looking around her from morning till night, as though she had lost +something. At last she decided to have a thorough cleaning of the premises, +declaring that people were beginning to talk, that the story of the old +man’s death had got about, and that it was necessary they should make a +great show of cleanliness. One afternoon, after remaining in the cellar for a +couple of hours, whither she herself had gone to wash the salting-tubs, she +came up again, carrying something in her apron. Quenu was just then cutting up +a pig’s fry. She waited till he had finished, talking awhile in an easy, +indifferent fashion. But there was an unusual glitter in her eyes, and she +smiled her most charming smile as she told him that she wanted to speak to him. +She led the way upstairs with seeming difficulty, impeded by what she had in +her apron, which was strained almost to bursting. +</p> + +<p> +By the time she reached the third floor she found herself short of breath, and +for a moment was obliged to lean against the balustrade. Quenu, much +astonished, followed her into her bedroom without saying a word. It was the +first time she had ever invited him to enter it. She closed the door, and +letting go the corners of her apron, which her stiffened fingers could no +longer hold up, she allowed a stream of gold and silver coins to flow gently +upon her bed. She had discovered Uncle Gradelle’s treasure at the bottom +of a salting-tub. The heap of money made a deep impression in the softy downy +bed. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa and Quenu evinced a quiet delight. They sat down on the edge of the bed, +Lisa at the head and Quenu at the foot, on either side of the heap of coins, +and they counted the money out upon the counterpane, so as to avoid making any +noise. There were forty thousand francs in gold, and three thousand francs in +silver, whilst in a tin box they found bank notes to the value of forty-two +thousand francs. It took them two hours to count up the treasure. Quenu’s +hands trembled slightly, and it was Lisa who did most of the work. +</p> + +<p> +They arranged the gold on the pillow in little heaps, leaving the silver in the +hollow depression of the counterpane. When they had ascertained the total +amount—eighty-five thousand francs, to them an enormous sum—they +began to chat. And their conversation naturally turned upon their future, and +they spoke of their marriage, although there had never been any previous +mention of love between them. But this heap of money seemed to loosen their +tongues. They had gradually seated themselves further back on the bed, leaning +against the wall, beneath the white muslin curtains; and as they talked +together, their hands, playing with the heap of silver between them, met, and +remained linked amidst the pile of five-franc pieces. Twilight surprised them +still sitting together. Then, for the first time, Lisa blushed at finding the +young man by her side. For a few moments, indeed, although not a thought of +evil had come to them, they felt much embarrassed. Then Lisa went to get her +own ten thousand francs. Quenu wanted her to put them with his uncle’s +savings. He mixed the two sums together, saying with a laugh that the money +must be married also. Then it was agreed that Lisa should keep the hoard in her +chest of drawers. When she had locked it up they both quietly went downstairs. +They were now practically husband and wife. +</p> + +<p> +The wedding took place during the following month. The neighbours considered +the match a very natural one, and in every way suitable. They had vaguely heard +the story of the treasure, and Lisa’s honesty was the subject of endless +eulogy. After all, said the gossips, she might well have kept the money +herself, and not have spoken a word to Quenu about it; if she had spoken, it +was out of pure honesty, for no one had seen her find the hoard. She well +deserved, they added, that Quenu should make her his wife. That Quenu, by the +way, was a lucky fellow; he wasn’t a beauty himself, yet he had secured a +beautiful wife, who had disinterred a fortune for him. Some even went so far as +to whisper that Lisa was a simpleton for having acted as she had done; but the +young woman only smiled when people speaking to her vaguely alluded to all +these things. She and her husband lived on as previously, in happy placidity +and quiet affection. She still assisted him as before, their hands still met +amidst the sausage-meat, she still glanced over his shoulder into the pots and +pans, and still nothing but the great fire in the kitchen brought the blood to +their cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +However, Lisa was a woman of practical common sense, and speedily saw the folly +of allowing eighty-five thousand francs to lie idle in a chest of drawers. +Quenu would have willingly stowed them away again at the bottom of the +salting-tub until he had gained as much more, when they could have retired from +business and have gone to live at Suresnes, a suburb to which both were +partial. Lisa, however, had other ambitions. The Rue Pirouette did not accord +with her ideas of cleanliness, her craving for fresh air, light, and healthy +life. The shop where Uncle Gradelle had accumulated his fortune, sou by sou, +was a long, dark place, one of those suspicious looking pork butchers’ +shops of the old quarters of the city, where the well-worn flagstones retain a +strong odour of meat in spite of constant washings. Now the young woman longed +for one of those bright modern shops, ornamented like a drawing-room, and +fringing the footway of some broad street with windows of crystalline +transparence. She was not actuated by any petty ambition to play the fine lady +behind a stylish counter, but clearly realised that commerce in its latest +development needed elegant surroundings. Quenu showed much alarm the first time +his wife suggested that they ought to move and spend some of their money in +decorating a new shop. However, Lisa only shrugged her shoulders and smiled at +finding him so timorous. +</p> + +<p> +One evening, when night was falling and the shop had grown dark, Quenu and Lisa +overheard a woman of the neighbourhood talking to a friend outside their door. +</p> + +<p> +“No, indeed! I’ve given up dealing with them,” said she. +“I wouldn’t buy a bit of black-pudding from them now on any +account. They had a dead man in their kitchen, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +Quenu wept with vexation. The story of Gradelle’s death in the kitchen +was clearly getting about; and his nephew began to blush before his customers +when he saw them sniffing his wares too closely. So, of his own accord, he +spoke to his wife of her proposal to take a new shop. Lisa, without saying +anything, had already been looking out for other premises, and had found some, +admirably situated, only a few yards away, in the Rue Rambuteau. The immediate +neighbourhood of the central markets, which were being opened just opposite, +would triple their business, and make their shop known all over Paris. +</p> + +<p> +Quenu allowed himself to be drawn into a lavish expenditure of money; he laid +out over thirty thousand francs in marble, glass, and gilding. Lisa spent hours +with the workmen, giving her views about the slightest details. When she was at +last installed behind the counter, customers arrived in a perfect procession, +merely for the sake of examining the shop. The inside walls were lined from top +to bottom with white marble. The ceiling was covered with a huge square mirror, +framed by a broad gilded cornice, richly ornamented, whilst from the centre +hung a crystal chandelier with four branches. And behind the counter, and on +the left, and at the far end of the shop were other mirrors, fitted between the +marble panels and looking like doors opening into an infinite series of +brightly lighted halls, where all sorts of appetising edibles were displayed. +The huge counter on the right hand was considered a very fine piece of work. At +intervals along the front were lozenge-shaped panels of pinky marble. The +flooring was of tiles, alternately white and pink, with a deep red fretting as +border. The whole neighbourhood was proud of the shop, and no one again thought +of referring to the kitchen in the Rue Pirouette, where a man had died. For +quite a month women stopped short on the footway to look at Lisa between the +saveloys and bladders in the window. Her white and pink flesh excited as much +admiration as the marbles. She seemed to be the soul, the living light, the +healthy, sturdy idol of the pork trade; and thenceforth one and all baptised +her “Lisa the beauty.” +</p> + +<p> +To the right of the shop was the dining-room, a neat looking apartment +containing a sideboard, a table, and several cane-seated chairs of light oak. +The matting on the floor, the wallpaper of a soft yellow tint, the oil-cloth +table-cover, coloured to imitate oak, gave the room a somewhat cold appearance, +which was relieved only by the glitter of a brass hanging lamp, suspended from +the ceiling, and spreading its big shade of transparent porcelain over the +table. One of the dining-room doors opened into the huge square kitchen, at the +end of which was a small paved courtyard, serving for the storage of +lumber—tubs, barrels and pans, and all kinds of utensils not in use. To +the left of the water-tap, alongside the gutter which carried off the greasy +water, stood pots of faded flowers, removed from the shop window, and slowly +dying. +</p> + +<p> +Business was excellent. Quenu, who had been much alarmed by the initial outlay, +now regarded his wife with something like respect, and told his friends that +she had “a wonderful head.” At the end of five years they had +nearly eighty thousand francs invested in the State funds. Lisa would say that +they were not ambitious, that they had no desire to pile up money too quickly, +or else she would have enabled her husband to gain hundreds and thousands of +francs by prompting him to embark in the wholesale pig trade. But they were +still young, and had plenty of time before them; besides, they didn’t +care about a rough, scrambling business, but preferred to work at their ease, +and enjoy life, instead of wearing themselves out with endless anxieties. +</p> + +<p> +“For instance,” Lisa would add in her expansive moments, “I +have, you know, a cousin in Paris. I never see him, as the two families have +fallen out. He has taken the name of Saccard,[*] on account of certain matters +which he wants to be forgotten. Well, this cousin of mine, I’m told, +makes millions and millions of francs; but he gets no enjoyment out of life. +He’s always in a state of feverish excitement, always rushing hither and +thither, up to his neck in all sorts of worrying business. Well, it’s +impossible, isn’t it, for such a man to eat his dinner peaceably in the +evening? We, at any rate, can take our meals comfortably, and make sure of what +we eat, and we are not harassed by worries as he is. The only reason why people +should care for money is that money’s wanted for one to live. People like +comfort; that’s natural. But as for making money simply for the sake of +making it, and giving yourself far more trouble and anxiety to gain it than you +can ever get pleasure from it when it’s gained, why, as for me, I’d +rather sit still and cross my arms. And besides, I should like to see all those +millions of my cousin’s. I can’t say that I altogether believe in +them. I caught sight of him the other day in his carriage. He was quite yellow, +and looked ever so sly. A man who’s making money doesn’t have that +kind of expression. But it’s his business, and not mine. For our part, we +prefer to make merely a hundred sous at a time, and to get a hundred +sous’ worth of enjoyment out of them.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] See M. Zola’s novel, <i>Money</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The household was undoubtedly thriving. A daughter had been born to the young +couple during their first year of wedlock, and all three of them looked +blooming. The business went on prosperously, without any laborious fatigue, +just as Lisa desired. She had carefully kept free of any possible source of +trouble or anxiety, and the days went by in an atmosphere of peaceful, unctuous +prosperity. Their home was a nook of sensible happiness—a comfortable +manger, so to speak, where father, mother, and daughter could grow sleek and +fat. It was only Quenu who occasionally felt sad, through thinking of his +brother Florent. Up to the year 1856 he had received letters from him at long +intervals. Then no more came, and he had learned from a newspaper that three +convicts having attempted to escape from the Île du Diable, had been drowned +before they were able to reach the mainland. He had made inquiries at the +Prefecture of Police, but had not learnt anything definite; it seemed probable +that his brother was dead. However, he did not lose all hope, though months +passed without any tidings. Florent, in the meantime, was wandering about Dutch +Guiana, and refrained from writing home as he was ever in hope of being able to +return to France. Quenu at last began to mourn for him as one mourns for those +whom one has been unable to bid farewell. Lisa had never known Florent, but she +spoke very kindly whenever she saw her husband give way to his sorrow; and she +evinced no impatience when for the hundredth time or so he began to relate +stories of his early days, of his life in the big room in the Rue Royer +Collard, the thirty-six trades which he had taken up one after another, and the +dainties which he had cooked at the stove, dressed all in white, while Florent +was dressed all in black. To such talk as this, indeed, she listened placidly, +with a complacency which never wearied. +</p> + +<p> +It was into the midst of all this happiness, ripening after careful culture, +that Florent dropped one September morning just as Lisa was taking her +matutinal bath of sunshine, and Quenu, with his eyes still heavy with sleep, +was lazily applying his fingers to the congealed fat left in the pans from the +previous evening. Florent’s arrival caused a great commotion. Gavard +advised them to conceal the “outlaw,” as he somewhat pompously +called Florent. Lisa, who looked pale, and more serious than was her wont, at +last took him to the fifth floor, where she gave him the room belonging to the +girl who assisted her in the shop. Quenu had cut some slices of bread and ham, +but Florent was scarcely able to eat. He was overcome by dizziness and nausea, +and went to bed, where he remained for five days in a state of delirium, the +outcome of an attack of brain-fever, which fortunately received energetic +treatment. When he recovered consciousness he perceived Lisa sitting by his +bedside, silently stirring some cooling drink in a cup. As he tried to thank +her, she told him that he must keep perfectly quiet, and that they could talk +together later on. At the end of another three days Florent was on his feet +again. Then one morning Quenu went up to tell him that Lisa awaited them in her +room on the first floor. +</p> + +<p> +Quenu and his wife there occupied a suite of three rooms and a dressing-room. +You first passed through an antechamber, containing nothing but chairs, and +then a small sitting-room, whose furniture, shrouded in white covers, slumbered +in the gloom cast by the Venetian shutters, which were always kept closed so as +to prevent the light blue of the upholstery from fading. Then came the bedroom, +the only one of the three which was really used. It was very comfortably +furnished in mahogany. The bed, bulky and drowsy of aspect in the depths of the +damp alcove, was really wonderful, with its four mattresses, its four pillows, +its layers of blankets, and its corpulent <i>édredon</i>. It was evidently a +bed intended for slumber. A mirrored wardrobe, a washstand with drawers, a +small central table with a worked cover, and several chairs whose seats were +protected by squares of lace, gave the room an aspect of plain but substantial +middle-class luxury. On the left-hand wall, on either side of the mantelpiece, +which was ornamented with some landscape-painted vases mounted on bronze +stands, and a gilt timepiece on which a figure of Gutenberg, also gilt, stood +in an attitude of deep thought, hung portraits in oils of Quenu and Lisa, in +ornate oval frames. Quenu had a smiling face, while Lisa wore an air of grave +propriety; and both were dressed in black and depicted in flattering fashion, +their features idealised, their skins wondrously smooth, their complexions soft +and pinky. A carpet, in the Wilton style, with a complicated pattern of roses +mingling with stars, concealed the flooring; while in front of the bed was a +fluffy mat, made out of long pieces of curly wool, a work of patience at which +Lisa herself had toiled while seated behind her counter. But the most striking +object of all in the midst of this array of new furniture was a great square, +thick-set secrétaire, which had been re-polished in vain, for the cracks and +notches in the marble top and the scratches on the old mahogany front, quite +black with age, still showed plainly. Lisa had desired to retain this piece of +furniture, however, as Uncle Gradelle had used it for more than forty years. It +would bring them good luck, she said. It’s metal fastenings were truly +something terrible, it’s lock was like that of a prison gate, and it was +so heavy that it could scarcely be moved. +</p> + +<p> +When Florent and Quenu entered the room they found Lisa seated at the lowered +desk of the secrétaire, writing and putting down figures in a big, round, and +very legible hand. She signed to them not to disturb her, and the two men sat +down. Florent looked round the room, and notably at the two portraits, the bed +and the timepiece, with an air of surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“There!” at last exclaimed Lisa, after having carefully verified a +whole page of calculations. “Listen to me now; we have an account to +render to you, my dear Florent.” +</p> + +<p> +It was the first time that she had so addressed him. However, taking up the +page of figures, she continued: “Your Uncle Gradelle died without leaving +a will. Consequently you and your brother are his sole heirs. We now have to +hand your share over to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I do not ask you for anything!” exclaimed Florent, “I +don’t wish for anything!” +</p> + +<p> +Quenu had apparently been in ignorance of his wife’s intentions. He +turned rather pale and looked at her with an expression of displeasure. Of +course, he certainly loved his brother dearly; but there was no occasion to +hurl his uncle’s money at him in this way. There would have been plenty +of time to go into the matter later on. +</p> + +<p> +“I know very well, my dear Florent,” continued Lisa, “that +you did not come back with the intention of claiming from us what belongs to +you; but business is business, you know, and we had better get things settled +at once. Your uncle’s savings amounted to eighty-five thousand francs. I +have therefore put down forty-two thousand five hundred to your credit. +See!” +</p> + +<p> +She showed him the figures on the sheet of paper. +</p> + +<p> +“It is unfortunately not so easy to value the shop, plant, +stock-in-trade, and goodwill. I have only been able to put down approximate +amounts, but I don’t think I have underestimated anything. Well, the +total valuation which I have made comes to fifteen thousand three hundred and +ten francs; your half of which is seven thousand six hundred and fifty-five +francs, so that your share amounts, in all, to fifty thousand one hundred and +fifty-five francs. Please verify it for yourself, will you?” +</p> + +<p> +She had called out the figures in a clear, distinct voice, and she now handed +the paper to Florent, who was obliged to take it. +</p> + +<p> +“But the old man’s business was certainly never worth fifteen +thousand francs!” cried Quenu. “Why, I wouldn’t have given +ten thousand for it!” +</p> + +<p> +He had ended by getting quite angry with his wife. Really, it was absurd to +carry honesty to such a point as that! Had Florent said one word about the +business? No, indeed, he had declared that he didn’t wish for anything. +</p> + +<p> +“The business was worth fifteen thousand three hundred and ten +francs,” Lisa re-asserted, calmly. “You will agree with me, my dear +Florent, that it is quite unnecessary to bring a lawyer into our affairs. It is +for us to arrange the division between ourselves, since you have now turned up +again. I naturally thought of this as soon as you arrived; and, while you were +in bed with the fever, I did my best to draw up this little inventory. It +contains, as you see, a fairly complete statement of everything. I have been +through our old books, and have called up my memory to help me. Read it aloud, +and I will give you any additional information you may want.” +</p> + +<p> +Florent ended by smiling. He was touched by this easy and, as it were, natural +display of probity. Placing the sheet of figures on the young woman’s +knee, he took hold of her hand and said, “I am very glad, my dear Lisa, +to hear that you are prosperous, but I will not take your money. The heritage +belongs to you and my brother, who took care of my uncle up to the last. I +don’t require anything, and I don’t intend to hamper you in +carrying on your business.” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa insisted, and even showed some vexation, while Quenu gnawed his thumbs in +silence to restrain himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” resumed Florent with a laugh, “if Uncle Gradelle could +hear you, I think he’d come back and take the money away again. I was +never a favourite of his, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, no,” muttered Quenu, no longer able to keep still, “he +certainly wasn’t over fond of you.” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa, however, still pressed the matter. She did not like to have money in her +secrétaire that did not belong to her; it would worry her, said she; the +thought of it would disturb her peace. Thereupon Florent, still in a joking +way, proposed to invest his share in the business. Moreover, said he, he did +not intend to refuse their help; he would, no doubt, be unable to find +employment all at once; and then, too, he would need a complete outfit, for he +was scarcely presentable. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course,” cried Quenu, “you will board and lodge with us, +and we will buy you all that you want. That’s understood. You know very +well that we are not likely to leave you in the streets, I hope!” +</p> + +<p> +He was quite moved now, and even felt a trifle ashamed of the alarm he had +experienced at the thought of having to hand over a large amount of money all +at once. He began to joke, and told his brother that he would undertake to +fatten him. Florent gently shook his hand; while Lisa folded up the sheet of +figures and put it away in a drawer of the secrétaire. +</p> + +<p> +“You are wrong,” she said by way of conclusion. “I have done +what I was bound to do. Now it shall be as you wish. But, for my part, I should +never have had a moment’s peace if I had not put things before you. Bad +thoughts would quite upset me.” +</p> + +<p> +They then began to speak of another matter. It would be necessary to give some +reason for Florent’s presence, and at the same time avoid exciting the +suspicion of the police. He told them that in order to return to France he had +availed himself of the papers of a poor fellow who had died in his arms at +Surinam from yellow fever. By a singular coincidence this young fellow’s +Christian name was Florent. +</p> + +<p> +Florent Laquerriere, to give him his name in full, had left but one relation in +Paris, a female cousin, and had been informed of her death while in America. +Nothing could therefore be easier than for Quenu’s half brother to pass +himself off as the man who had died at Surinam. Lisa offered to take upon +herself the part of the female cousin. They then agreed to relate that their +cousin Florent had returned from abroad, where he had failed in his attempts to +make a fortune, and that they, the Quenu-Gradelles, as they were called in the +neighbourhood, had received him into their house until he could find suitable +employment. When this was all settled, Quenu insisted upon his brother making a +thorough inspection of the rooms, and would not spare him the examination of a +single stool. Whilst they were in the bare looking chamber containing nothing +but chairs, Lisa pushed open a door, and showing Florent a small dressing room, +told him that the shop girl should sleep in it, so that he could retain the +bedroom on the fifth floor. +</p> + +<p> +In the evening Florent was arrayed in new clothes from head to foot. He had +insisted upon again having a black coat and black trousers, much against the +advice of Quenu, upon whom black had a depressing effect. No further attempts +were made to conceal his presence in the house, and Lisa told the story which +had been planned to everyone who cared to hear it. Henceforth Florent spent +almost all his time on the premises, lingering on a chair in the kitchen or +leaning against the marble-work in the shop. At meal times Quenu plied him with +food, and evinced considerable vexation when he proved such a small eater and +left half the contents of his liberally filled plate untouched. Lisa had +resumed her old life, evincing a kindly tolerance of her brother-in-law’s +presence, even in the morning, when he somewhat interfered with the work. Then +she would momentarily forget him, and on suddenly perceiving his black form in +front of her give a slight start of surprise, followed, however, by one of her +sweet smiles, lest he might feel at all hurt. This skinny man’s +disinterestedness had impressed her, and she regarded him with a feeling akin +to respect, mingled with vague fear. Florent had for his part only felt that +there was great affection around him. +</p> + +<p> +When bedtime came he went upstairs, a little wearied by his lazy day, with the +two young men whom Quenu employed as assistants, and who slept in attics +adjoining his own. Leon, the apprentice, was barely fifteen years of age. He +was a slight, gentle looking lad, addicted to stealing stray slices of ham and +bits of sausages. These he would conceal under his pillow, eating them during +the night without any bread. Several times at about one o’clock in the +morning Florent almost fancied that Leon was giving a supper-party; for he +heard low whispering followed by a sound of munching jaws and rustling paper. +And then a rippling girlish laugh would break faintly on the deep silence of +the sleeping house like the soft trilling of a flageolet. +</p> + +<p> +The other assistant, Auguste Landois, came from Troyes. Bloated with unhealthy +fat, he had too large a head, and was already bald, although only twenty-eight +years of age. As he went upstairs with Florent on the first evening, he told +him his story in a confused, garrulous way. He had at first come to Paris +merely for the purpose of perfecting himself in the business, intending to +return to Troyes, where his cousin, Augustine Landois, was waiting for him, and +there setting up for himself as a pork butcher. He and she had had the same +godfather and bore virtually the same Christian name. However, he had grown +ambitious; and now hoped to establish himself in business in Paris by the aid +of the money left him by his mother, which he had deposited with a notary +before leaving Champagne. +</p> + +<p> +Auguste had got so far in his narrative when the fifth floor was reached; +however, he still detained Florent, in order to sound the praises of Madame +Quenu, who had consented to send for Augustine Landois to replace an assistant +who had turned out badly. He himself was now thoroughly acquainted with his +part of the business, and his cousin was perfecting herself in shop management. +In a year or eighteen months they would be married, and then they would set up +on their own account in some populous corner of Paris, at Plaisance most +likely. They were in no great hurry, he added, for the bacon trade was very bad +that year. Then he proceeded to tell Florent that he and his cousin had been +photographed together at the fair of St. Ouen, and he entered the attic to have +another look at the photograph, which Augustine had left on the mantelpiece, in +her desire that Madame Quenu’s cousin should have a pretty room. Auguste +lingered there for a moment, looking quite livid in the dim yellow light of his +candle, and casting his eyes around the little chamber which was still full of +memorials of the young girl. Next, stepping up to the bed, he asked Florent if +it was comfortable. His cousin slept below now, said he, and would be better +there in the winter, for the attics were very cold. Then at last he went off, +leaving Florent alone with the bed, and standing in front of the photograph. As +shown on the latter Auguste looked like a sort of pale Quenu, and Augustine +like an immature Lisa. +</p> + +<p> +Florent, although on friendly terms with the assistants, petted by his brother, +and cordially treated by Lisa, presently began to feel very bored. He had +tried, but without success, to obtain some pupils; moreover, he purposely +avoided the students’ quarter for fear of being recognised. Lisa gently +suggested to him that he had better try to obtain a situation in some +commercial house, where he could take charge of the correspondence and keep the +books. She returned to this subject again and again, and at last offered to +find a berth for him herself. She was gradually becoming impatient at finding +him so often in her way, idle, and not knowing what to do with himself. At +first this impatience was merely due to the dislike she felt of people who do +nothing but cross their arms and eat, and she had no thought of reproaching him +for consuming her substance. +</p> + +<p> +“For my own part,” she would say to him, “I could never spend +the whole day in dreamy lounging. You can’t have any appetite for your +meals. You ought to tire yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +Gavard, also, was seeking a situation for Florent, but in a very extraordinary +and most mysterious fashion. He would have liked to find some employment of a +dramatic character, or in which there should be a touch of bitter irony, as was +suitable for an outlaw. Gavard was a man who was always in opposition. He had +just completed his fiftieth year, and he boasted that he had already passed +judgment on four Governments. He still contemptuously shrugged his shoulders at +the thought of Charles X, the priests and nobles and other attendant rabble, +whom he had helped to sweep away. Louis Philippe, with his bourgeois following, +had been an imbecile, and he could tell how the citizen-king had hoarded his +coppers in a woollen stocking. As for the Republic of ‘48, that had been +a mere farce, the working classes had deceived him; however, he no longer +acknowledged that he had applauded the Coup d’Etat, for he now looked +upon Napoleon III as his personal enemy, a scoundrel who shut himself up with +Morny and others to indulge in gluttonous orgies. He was never weary of holding +forth upon this subject. Lowering his voice a little, he would declare that +women were brought to the Tuileries in closed carriages every evening, and that +he, who was speaking, had one night heard the echoes of the orgies while +crossing the Place du Carrousel. It was Gavard’s religion to make himself +as disagreeable as possible to any existing Government. He would seek to spite +it in all sorts of ways, and laugh in secret for several months at the pranks +he played. To begin with, he voted for candidates who would worry the Ministers +at the Corps Législatif. Then, if he could rob the revenue, or baffle the +police, and bring about a row of some kind or other, he strove to give the +affair as much of an insurrectionary character as possible. He told a great +many lies, too; set himself up as being a very dangerous man; talked as though +“the satellites of the Tuileries” were well acquainted with him and +trembled at the sight of him; and asserted that one half of them must be +guillotined, and the other half transported, the next time there was “a +flare-up.” His violent political creed found food in boastful, bragging +talk of this sort; he displayed all the partiality for a lark and a rumpus +which prompts a Parisian shopkeeper to take down his shutters on a day of +barricade-fighting to get a good view of the corpses of the slain. When Florent +returned from Cayenne, Gavard opined that he had got hold of a splendid chance +for some abominable trick, and bestowed much thought upon the question of how +he might best vent his spleen on the Emperor and Ministers and everyone in +office, down to the very lowest police constable. +</p> + +<p> +Gavard’s manners with Florent were altogether those of a man tasting some +forbidden pleasure. He contemplated him with blinking eyes, lowered his voice +even when making the most trifling remark, and grasped his hand with all sorts +of masonic flummery. He had at last lighted upon something in the way of an +adventure; he had a friend who was really compromised, and could, without +falsehood speak of the dangers he incurred. He undoubtedly experienced a secret +alarm at the sight of this man who had returned from transportation, and whose +fleshlessness testified to the long sufferings he had endured; however, this +touch of alarm was delightful, for it increased his notion of his own +importance, and convinced him that he was really doing something wonderful in +treating a dangerous character as a friend. Florent became a sort of sacred +being in his eyes: he swore by him alone, and had recourse to his name whenever +arguments failed him and he wanted to crush the Government once and for all. +</p> + +<p> +Gavard had lost his wife in the Rue Saint Jacques some months after the Coup +d’Etat; however, he had kept on his roasting shop till 1856. At that time +it was reported that he had made large sums of money by going into partnership +with a neighbouring grocer who had obtained a contract for supplying dried +vegetables to the Crimean expeditionary corps. The truth was, however, that, +having sold his shop, he lived on his income for a year without doing anything. +He himself did not care to talk about the real origin of his fortune, for to +have revealed it would have prevented him from plainly expressing his opinion +of the Crimean War, which he referred to as a mere adventurous expedition, +“undertaken simply to consolidate the throne and to fill certain +persons’ pockets.” At the end of a year he had grown utterly weary +of life in his bachelor quarters. As he was in the habit of visiting the +Quenu-Gradelles almost daily, he determined to take up his residence nearer to +them, and came to live in the Rue de la Cossonnerie. The neighbouring markets, +with their noisy uproar and endless chatter, quite fascinated him; and he +decided to hire a stall in the poultry pavilion, just for the purpose of +amusing himself and occupying his idle hours with all the gossip. Thenceforth +he lived amidst ceaseless tittle-tattle, acquainted with every little scandal +in the neighbourhood, his head buzzing with the incessant yelping around him. +He blissfully tasted a thousand titillating delights, having at last found his +true element, and bathing in it, with the voluptuous pleasure of a carp +swimming in the sunshine. Florent would sometimes go to see him at his stall. +The afternoons were still very warm. All along the narrow alleys sat women +plucking poultry. Rays of light streamed in between the awnings, and in the +warm atmosphere, in the golden dust of the sunbeams, feathers fluttered hither +and thither like dancing snowflakes. A trail of coaxing calls and offers +followed Florent as he passed along. “Can I sell you a fine duck, +monsieur?” “I’ve some very fine fat chickens here, monsieur; +come and see!” “Monsieur! monsieur, do just buy this pair of +pigeons!” Deafened and embarrassed he freed himself from the women, who +still went on plucking as they fought for possession of him; and the fine down +flew about and wellnigh choked him, like hot smoke reeking with the strong +odour of the poultry. At last, in the middle of the alley, near the water-taps, +he found Gavard ranting away in his shirt-sleeves, in front of his stall, with +his arms crossed over the bib of his blue apron. He reigned there, in a +gracious, condescending way, over a group of ten or twelve women. He was the +only male dealer in that part of the market. He was so fond of wagging his +tongue that he had quarrelled with five or six girls whom he had successively +engaged to attend to his stall, and had now made up his mind to sell his goods +himself, naively explaining that the silly women spent the whole blessed day in +gossiping, and that it was beyond his power to manage them. As someone, +however, was still necessary to supply his place whenever he absented himself +he took in Marjolin, who was prowling about, after attempting in turn all the +petty market callings. +</p> + +<p> +Florent sometimes remained for an hour with Gavard, amazed by his ceaseless +flow of chatter, and his calm serenity and assurance amid the crowd of +petticoats. He would interrupt one woman, pick a quarrel with another ten +stalls away, snatch a customer from a third, and make as much noise himself as +his hundred and odd garrulous neighbours, whose incessant clamour kept the iron +plates of the pavilion vibrating sonorously like so many gongs. +</p> + +<p> +The poultry dealer’s only relations were a sister-in-law and a niece. +When his wife died, her eldest sister, Madame Lecœur, who had become a widow +about a year previously, had mourned for her in an exaggerated fashion, and +gone almost every evening to tender consolation to the bereaved husband. She +had doubtless cherished the hope that she might win his affection and fill the +yet warm place of the deceased. Gavard, however, abominated lean women; and +would, indeed, only stroke such cats and dogs as were very fat; so that Madame +Lecœur, who was long and withered, failed in her designs. +</p> + +<p> +With her feelings greatly hurt, furious at the ex-roaster’s five-franc +pieces eluding her grasp, she nurtured great spite against him. He became the +enemy to whom she devoted all her time. When she saw him set up in the markets +only a few yards away from the pavilion where she herself sold butter and eggs +and cheese, she accused him of doing so simply for the sake of annoying her and +bringing her bad luck. From that moment she began to lament, and turned so +yellow and melancholy that she indeed ended by losing her customers and getting +into difficulties. She had for a long time kept with her the daughter of one of +her sisters, a peasant woman who had sent her the child and then taken no +further trouble about it. +</p> + +<p> +This child grew up in the markets. Her surname was Sarriet, and so she soon +became generally known as La Sarriette. At sixteen years of age she had +developed into such a charming sly-looking puss that gentlemen came to buy +cheeses at her aunt’s stall simply for the purpose of ogling her. She did +not care for the gentlemen, however; with her dark hair, pale face, and eyes +glistening like live embers, her sympathies were with the lower ranks of the +people. At last she chose as her lover a young man from Menilmontant who was +employed by her aunt as a porter. At twenty she set up in business as a fruit +dealer with the help of some funds procured no one knew how; and thenceforth +Monsieur Jules, as her lover was called, displayed spotless hands, a clean +blouse, and a velvet cap; and only came down to the market in the afternoon, in +his slippers. They lived together on the third storey of a large house in the +Rue Vauvilliers, on the ground floor of which was a disreputable café. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lecœur’s acerbity of temper was brought to a pitch by what she +called La Sarriette’s ingratitude, and she spoke of the girl in the most +violent and abusive language. They broke off all intercourse, the aunt fairly +exasperated, and the niece and Monsieur Jules concocting stories about the +aunt, which the young man would repeat to the other dealers in the butter +pavilion. Gavard found La Sarriette very entertaining, and treated her with +great indulgence. Whenever they met he would good-naturedly pat her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon, whilst Florent was sitting in his brother’s shop, tired +out with the fruitless pilgrimages he had made during the morning in search of +work, Marjolin made his appearance there. This big lad, who had the massiveness +and gentleness of a Fleming, was a protege of Lisa’s. She would say that +there was no evil in him; that he was indeed a little bit stupid, but as strong +as a horse, and particularly interesting from the fact that nobody knew +anything of his parentage. It was she who had got Gavard to employ him. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa was sitting behind the counter, feeling annoyed by the sight of +Florent’s muddy boots which were soiling the pink and white tiles of the +flooring. Twice already had she risen to scatter sawdust about the shop. +However, she smiled at Marjolin as he entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Gavard,” began the young man, “has sent me to +ask—” +</p> + +<p> +But all at once he stopped and glanced round; then in a lower voice he resumed: +“He told me to wait till there was no one with you, and then to repeat +these words, which he made me learn by heart: ‘Ask them if there is no +danger, and if I can come and talk to them of the matter they know +about.’” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell Monsieur Gavard that we are expecting him,” replied Lisa, who +was quite accustomed to the poultry dealer’s mysterious ways. +</p> + +<p> +Marjolin, however, did not go away; but remained in ecstasy before the handsome +mistress of the shop, contemplating her with an expression of fawning humility. +</p> + +<p> +Touched, as it were, by this mute adoration, Lisa spoke to him again. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you comfortable with Monsieur Gavard?” she asked. +“He’s not an unkind man, and you ought to try to please him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Madame Lisa.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you don’t behave as you should, you know. Only yesterday I saw +you clambering about the roofs of the market again; and, besides, you are +constantly with a lot of disreputable lads and lasses. You ought to remember +that you are a man now, and begin to think of the future.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Madame Lisa.” +</p> + +<p> +However, Lisa had to get up to wait upon a lady who came in and wanted a pound +of pork chops. She left the counter and went to the block at the far end of the +shop. Here, with a long, slender knife, she cut three chops in a loin of pork; +and then, raising a small cleaver with her strong hand, dealt three sharp blows +which separated the chops from the loin. At each blow she dealt, her black +merino dress rose slightly behind her, and the ribs of her stays showed beneath +her tightly stretched bodice. She slowly took up the chops and weighed them +with an air of gravity, her eyes gleaming and her lips tightly closed. +</p> + +<p> +When the lady had gone, and Lisa perceived Marjolin still full of delight at +having seen her deal those three clean, forcible blows with the cleaver, she at +once called out to him, “What! haven’t you gone yet?” +</p> + +<p> +He thereupon turned to go, but she detained him for a moment longer. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, don’t let me see you again with that hussy Cadine,” she +said. “Oh, it’s no use to deny it! I saw you together this morning +in the tripe market, watching men breaking the sheep’s heads. I +can’t understand what attraction a good-looking young fellow like you can +find in such a slipshod slattern as Cadine. Now then, go and tell Monsieur +Gavard that he had better come at once, while there’s no one +about.” +</p> + +<p> +Marjolin thereupon went off in confusion, without saying a word. +</p> + +<p> +Handsome Lisa remained standing behind her counter, with her head turned +slightly in the direction of her markets, and Florent gazed at her in silence, +surprised to see her looking so beautiful. He had never looked at her properly +before; indeed, he did not know the right way to look at a woman. He now saw +her rising above the viands on the counter. In front of her was an array of +white china dishes, containing long Arles and Lyons sausages, slices of which +had already been cut off, with tongues and pieces of boiled pork; then a +pig’s head in a mass of jelly; an open pot of preserved sausage-meat, and +a large box of sardines disclosing a pool of oil. On the right and left, upon +wooden platters, were mounds of French and Italian brawn, a common French ham, +of a pinky hue, and a Yorkshire ham, whose deep red lean showed beneath a broad +band of fat. There were other dishes too, round ones and oval ones, containing +spiced tongue, truffled galantine, and a boar’s head stuffed with +pistachio nuts; while close to her, in reach of her hand, stood some yellow +earthen pans containing larded veal, <i>paté de foie gras</i>, and hare-pie. +</p> + +<p> +As there were no signs of Gavard’s coming, she arranged some fore-end +bacon upon a little marble shelf at the end of the counter, put the jars of +lard and dripping back into their places, wiped the plates of each pair of +scales, and saw to the fire of the heater, which was getting low. Then she +turned her head again, and gazed in silence towards the markets. The smell of +all the viands ascended around her, she was enveloped, as it were, by the aroma +of truffles. She looked beautifully fresh that afternoon. The whiteness of all +the dishes was supplemented by that of her sleevelets and apron, above which +appeared her plump neck and rosy cheeks, which recalled the soft tones of the +hams and the pallor of all the transparent fat. +</p> + +<p> +As Florent continued to gaze at her he began to feel intimidated, disquieted by +her prim, sedate demeanour; and in lieu of openly looking at her he ended by +glancing surreptitiously in the mirrors around the shop, in which her back and +face and profile could be seen. The mirror on the ceiling, too, reflected the +top of her head, with its tightly rolled chignon and the little bands lowered +over her temples. There seemed, indeed, to be a perfect crowd of Lisas, with +broad shoulders, powerful arms, and round, full bosoms. At last Florent checked +his roving eyes, and let them rest on a particularly pleasing side view of the +young woman as mirrored between two pieces of pork. From the hooks running +along the whole line of mirrors and marbles hung sides of pork and bands of +larding fat; and Lisa, with her massive neck, rounded hips, and swelling bosom +seen in profile, looked like some waxwork queen in the midst of the dangling +fat and meat. However, she bent forward and smiled in a friendly way at the two +gold-fish which were ever and ever swimming round the aquarium in the window. +</p> + +<p> +Gavard entered the shop. With an air of great importance he went to fetch Quenu +from the kitchen. Then he seated himself upon a small marble-topped table, +while Florent remained on his chair and Lisa behind the counter; Quenu meantime +leaning his back against a side of pork. And thereupon Gavard announced that he +had at last found a situation for Florent. They would be vastly amused when +they heard what it was, and the Government would be nicely caught. +</p> + +<p> +But all at once he stopped short, for a passing neighbour, Mademoiselle Saget, +having seen such a large party gossiping together at the +Quenu-Gradelles’, had opened the door and entered the shop. Carrying her +everlasting black ribbonless straw hat, which appropriately cast a shadow over +her prying white face, she saluted the men with a slight bow and Lisa with a +sharp smile. +</p> + +<p> +She was an acquaintance of the family, and still lived in the house in the Rue +Pirouette where she had resided for the last forty years, probably on a small +private income; but of that she never spoke. She had, however, one day talked +of Cherbourg, mentioning that she had been born there. Nothing further was ever +known of her antecedents. All her conversation was about other people; she +could tell the whole story of their daily lives, even to the number of things +they sent to be washed each month; and she carried her prying curiosity +concerning her neighbours’ affairs so far as to listen behind their doors +and open their letters. Her tongue was feared from the Rue Saint Denis to the +Rue Jean-Jacques Rousseau, and from the Rue Saint Honoré to the Rue Mauconseil. +All day long she went ferreting about with her empty bag, pretending that she +was marketing, but in reality buying nothing, as her sole purpose was to retail +scandal and gossip, and keep herself fully informed of every trifling incident +that happened. Indeed, she had turned her brain into an encyclopaedia brimful +of every possible particular concerning the people of the neighbourhood and +their homes. +</p> + +<p> +Quenu had always accused her of having spread the story of his Uncle +Gradelle’s death on the chopping-block, and had borne her a grudge ever +since. She was extremely well posted in the history of Uncle Gradelle and the +Quenus, and knew them, she would say, by heart. For the last fortnight, +however, Florent’s arrival had greatly perplexed her, filled her, indeed, +with a perfect fever of curiosity. She became quite ill when she discovered any +unforeseen gap in her information. And yet she could have sworn that she had +seen that tall lanky fellow somewhere or other before. +</p> + +<p> +She remained standing in front of the counter, examining the dishes one after +another, and saying in a shrill voice: +</p> + +<p> +“I hardly know what to have. When the afternoon comes I feel quite +famished for my dinner, and then, later on, I don’t seem able to fancy +anything at all. Have you got a cutlet rolled in bread-crumbs left, Madame +Quenu?” +</p> + +<p> +Without waiting for a reply, she removed one of the covers of the heater. It +was that of the compartment reserved for the chitterlings, sausages, and +black-puddings. However, the chafing-dish was quite cold, and there was nothing +left but one stray forgotten sausage. +</p> + +<p> +“Look under the other cover, Mademoiselle Saget,” said Lisa. +“I believe there’s a cutlet there.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it doesn’t tempt me,” muttered the little old woman, +poking her nose under the other cover, however, all the same. “I felt +rather a fancy for one, but I’m afraid a cutlet would be rather too heavy +in the evening. I’d rather have something, too, that I need not +warm.” +</p> + +<p> +While speaking she had turned towards Florent and looked at him; then she +looked at Gavard, who was beating a tattoo with his finger-tips on the marble +table. She smiled at them, as though inviting them to continue their +conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“Wouldn’t a little piece of salt pork suit you?” asked Lisa. +</p> + +<p> +“A piece of salt pork? Yes, that might do.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon she took up the fork with plated handle, which was lying at the edge +of the dish, and began to turn all the pieces of pork about, prodding them, +lightly tapping the bones to judge of their thickness, and minutely +scrutinising the shreds of pinky meat. And as she turned them over she +repeated, “No, no; it doesn’t tempt me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, have a sheep’s tongue, or a bit of brawn, or a slice +of larded veal,” suggested Lisa patiently. +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget, however, shook her head. She remained there for a few +minutes longer, pulling dissatisfied faces over the different dishes; then, +seeing that the others were determined to remain silent, and that she would not +be able to learn anything, she took herself off. +</p> + +<p> +“No; I rather felt a fancy for a cutlet rolled in bread-crumbs,” +she said as she left the shop, “but the one you have left is too fat. I +must come another time.” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa bent forward to watch her through the sausage-skins hanging in the +shop-front, and saw her cross the road and enter the fruit market. +</p> + +<p> +“The old she-goat!” growled Gavard. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as they were now alone again, he began to tell them of the situation he +had found for Florent. A friend of his, he said, Monsieur Verlaque, one of the +fish market inspectors, was so ill that he was obliged to take a rest; and that +very morning the poor man had told him that he should be very glad to find a +substitute who would keep his berth open for him in case he should recover. +</p> + +<p> +“Verlaque, you know, won’t last another six months,” added +Gavard, “and Florent will keep the place. It’s a splendid idea, +isn’t it? And it will be such a take-in for the police! The berth is +under the Prefecture, you know. What glorious fun to see Florent getting paid +by the police, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +He burst into a hearty laugh; the idea struck him as so extremely comical. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t take the place,” Florent bluntly replied. +“I’ve sworn I’ll never accept anything from the Empire, and I +would rather die of starvation than serve under the Prefecture. It is quite out +of the question, Gavard, quite so!” +</p> + +<p> +Gavard seemed somewhat put out on hearing this. Quenu had lowered his head, +while Lisa, turning round, looked keenly at Florent, her neck swollen, her +bosom straining her bodice almost to bursting point. She was just going to open +her mouth when La Sarriette entered the shop, and there was another pause in +the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear me!” exclaimed La Sarriette with her soft laugh, +“I’d almost forgotten to get any bacon fat. Please, Madame Quenu, +cut me a dozen thin strips—very thin ones, you know; I want them for +larding larks. Jules has taken it into his head to eat some larks. Ah! how do +you do, uncle?” +</p> + +<p> +She filled the whole shop with her dancing skirts and smiled brightly at +everyone. Her face looked fresh and creamy, and on one side her hair was coming +down, loosened by the wind which blew through the markets. Gavard grasped her +hands, while she with merry impudence resumed: “I’ll bet that you +were talking about me just as I came in. Tell me what you were saying, +uncle.” +</p> + +<p> +However, Lisa now called to her, “Just look and tell me if this is thin +enough.” +</p> + +<p> +She was cutting the strips of bacon fat with great care on a piece of board in +front of her. Then as she wrapped them up she inquired, “Can I give you +anything else?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes,” replied La Sarriette; “since I’m about it, +I think I’ll have a pound of lard. I’m awfully fond of fried +potatoes; I can make a breakfast off a penn’orth of potatoes and a bunch +of radishes. Yes, I’ll have a pound of lard, please, Madame Quenu.” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa placed a sheet of stout paper in the pan of the scales. Then she took the +lard out of a jar under the shelves with a boxwood spatula, gently adding small +quantities to the fatty heap, which began to melt and run slightly. When the +plate of the scale fell, she took up the paper, folded it, and rapidly twisted +the ends with her finger-tips. +</p> + +<p> +“That makes twenty-four sous,” she said; “the bacon is six +sous—thirty sous altogether. There’s nothing else you want, is +there?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said La Sarriette, “nothing.” She paid her money, +still laughing and showing her teeth, and staring the men in the face. Her grey +skirt was all awry, and her loosely fastened red neckerchief allowed a little +of her white bosom to appear. Before she went away she stepped up to Gavard +again, and pretending to threaten him exclaimed: “So you won’t tell +me what you were talking about as I came in? I could see you laughing from the +street. Oh, you sly fellow! Ah! I sha’n’t love you any +longer!” +</p> + +<p> +Then she left the shop and ran across the road. +</p> + +<p> +“It was Mademoiselle Saget who sent her here,” remarked handsome +Lisa drily. +</p> + +<p> +Then silence fell again for some moments. Gavard was dismayed at +Florent’s reception of his proposal. Lisa was the first to speak. +“It was wrong of you to refuse the post, Florent,” she said in the +most friendly tones. “You know how difficult it is to find any +employment, and you are not in a position to be over-exacting.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have my reasons,” Florent replied. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa shrugged her shoulders. “Come now,” said she, “you +really can’t be serious, I’m sure. I can understand that you are +not in love with the Government, but it would be too absurd to let your +opinions prevent you from earning your living. And, besides, my dear fellow, +the Emperor isn’t at all a bad sort of man. You don’t suppose, do +you, that he knew you were eating mouldy bread and tainted meat? He can’t +be everywhere, you know, and you can see for yourself that he hasn’t +prevented us here from doing pretty well. You are not at all just; indeed you +are not.” +</p> + +<p> +Gavard, however, was getting very fidgety. He could not bear to hear people +speak well of the Emperor. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, Madame Quenu,” he interrupted; “you are going too +far. It is a scoundrelly system altogether.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, as for you,” exclaimed Lisa vivaciously, “you’ll +never rest until you’ve got yourself plundered and knocked on the head as +the result of all your wild talk. Don’t let us discuss politics; you +would only make me angry. The question is Florent, isn’t it? Well, for my +part, I say that he ought to accept this inspectorship. Don’t you think +so too, Quenu?” +</p> + +<p> +Quenu, who had not yet said a word, was very much put out by his wife’s +sudden appeal. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a good berth,” he replied, without compromising +himself. +</p> + +<p> +Then, amidst another interval of awkward silence, Florent resumed: “I beg +you, let us drop the subject. My mind is quite made up. I shall wait.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will wait!” cried Lisa, losing patience. +</p> + +<p> +Two rosy fires had risen to her cheeks. As she stood there, erect, in her white +apron, with rounded, swelling hips, it was with difficulty that she restrained +herself from breaking out into bitter words. However, the entrance of another +person into the shop arrested her anger. The new arrival was Madame Lecœur. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you let me have half a pound of mixed meats at fifty sous the +pound?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +She at first pretended not to notice her brother-in-law; but presently she just +nodded her head to him, without speaking. Then she scrutinised the three men +from head to foot, doubtless hoping to divine their secret by the manner in +which they waited for her to go. She could see that she was putting them out, +and the knowledge of this rendered her yet more sour and angular, as she stood +there in her limp skirts, with her long, spider-like arms bent and her knotted +fingers clasped beneath her apron. Then, as she coughed slightly, Gavard, whom +the silence embarrassed, inquired if she had a cold. +</p> + +<p> +She curtly answered in the negative. Her tightly stretched skin was of a +red-brick colour on those parts of her face where her bones protruded, and the +dull fire burning in her eyes and scorching their lids testified to some liver +complaint nurtured by the querulous jealousy of her disposition. She turned +round again towards the counter, and watched each movement made by Lisa as she +served her with the distrustful glance of one who is convinced that an attempt +will be made to defraud her. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t give me any saveloy,” she exclaimed; “I +don’t like it.” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa had taken up a slender knife, and was cutting some thin slices of sausage. +She next passed on to the smoked ham and the common ham, cutting delicate +slices from each, and bending forward slightly as she did so, with her eyes +ever fixed on the knife. Her plump rosy hands, flitting about the viands with +light and gentle touches, seemed to have derived suppleness from contact with +all the fat. +</p> + +<p> +“You would like some larded veal, wouldn’t you?” she asked, +bringing a yellow pan towards her. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lecœur seemed to be thinking the matter over at considerable length; +however, she at last said that she would have some. Lisa had now begun to cut +into the contents of the pans, from which she removed slices of larded veal and +hare <i>paté</i> on the tip of a broad-bladed knife. And she deposited each +successive slice on the middle of a sheet of paper placed on the scales. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you going to give me some of the boar’s head with +pistachio nuts?” asked Madame Lecœur in her querulous voice. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa was obliged to add some of the boar’s head. But the butter dealer +was getting exacting, and asked for two slices of galantine. She was very fond +of it. Lisa, who was already irritated, played impatiently with the handles of +the knives, and told her that the galantine was truffled, and that she could +only include it in an “assortment” at three francs the pound. +Madame Lecœur, however, continued to pry into the dishes, trying to find +something else to ask for. When the “assortment” was weighed she +made Lisa add some jelly and gherkins to it. The block of jelly, shaped like a +Savoy cake, shook on its white china dish beneath the angry violence of +Lisa’s hand; and as with her finger-tips she took a couple of gherkins +from a jar behind the heater, she made the vinegar spurt over the sides. +</p> + +<p> +“Twenty-five sous, isn’t it?” Madame Lecœur leisurely +inquired. +</p> + +<p> +She fully perceived Lisa’s covert irritation, and greatly enjoyed the +sight of it, producing her money as slowly as possible, as though, indeed, her +silver had got lost amongst the coppers in her pocket. And she glanced askance +at Gavard, relishing the embarrassed silence which her presence was prolonging, +and vowing that she would not go off, since they were hiding some trickery or +other from her. However, Lisa at last put the parcel in her hands, and she was +then obliged to make her departure. She went away without saying a word, but +darting a searching glance all round the shop. +</p> + +<p> +“It was that Saget who sent her too!” burst out Lisa, as soon as +the old woman was gone. “Is the old wretch going to send the whole market +here to try to find out what we talk about? What a prying, malicious set they +are! Did anyone ever hear before of crumbed cutlets and +‘assortments’ being bought at five o’clock in the afternoon? +But then they’d rack themselves with indigestion rather than not find +out! Upon my word, though, if La Saget sends anyone else here, you’ll see +the reception she’ll get. I would bundle her out of the shop, even if she +were my own sister!” +</p> + +<p> +The three men remained silent in presence of this explosion of anger. Gavard +had gone to lean over the brass rail of the window-front, where, seemingly lost +in thought, he began playing with one of the cut-glass balusters detached from +its wire fastening. Presently, however, he raised his head. “Well, for my +part,” he said, “I looked upon it all as an excellent joke.” +</p> + +<p> +“Looked upon what as a joke?” asked Lisa, still quivering with +indignation. +</p> + +<p> +“The inspectorship.” +</p> + +<p> +She raised her hands, gave a last glance at Florent, and then sat down upon the +cushioned bench behind the counter and said nothing further. Gavard, however, +began to explain his views at length; the drift of his argument being that it +was the Government which would look foolish in the matter, since Florent would +be taking its money. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear fellow,” he said complacently, “those scoundrels all +but starved you to death, didn’t they? Well, you must make them feed you +now. It’s a splendid idea; it caught my fancy at once!” +</p> + +<p> +Florent smiled, but still persisted in his refusal. Quenu, in the hope of +pleasing his wife, did his best to find some good arguments. Lisa, however, +appeared to pay no further attention to them. For the last moment or two she +had been looking attentively in the direction of the markets. And all at once +she sprang to her feet again, exclaiming, “Ah! it is La Normande that +they are sending to play the spy on us now! Well, so much the worse for La +Normande; she shall pay for the others!” +</p> + +<p> +A tall female pushed the shop door open. It was the handsome fish-girl, Louise +Mehudin, generally known as La Normande. She was a bold-looking beauty, with a +delicate white skin, and was almost as plump as Lisa, but there was more +effrontery in her glance, and her bosom heaved with warmer life. She came into +the shop with a light swinging step, her gold chain jingling on her apron, her +bare hair arranged in the latest style, and a bow at her throat, a lace bow, +which made her one of the most coquettish-looking queens of the markets. She +brought a vague odour of fish with her, and a herring-scale showed like a tiny +patch of mother-of-pearl near the little finger of one of her hands. She and +Lisa having lived in the same house in the Rue Pirouette, were intimate +friends, linked by a touch of rivalry which kept each of them busy with +thoughts of the other. In the neighbourhood people spoke of “the +beautiful Norman,” just as they spoke of “beautiful Lisa.” +This brought them into opposition and comparison, and compelled each of them to +do her utmost to sustain her reputation for beauty. Lisa from her counter +could, by stooping a little, perceive the fish-girl amidst her salmon and +turbot in the pavilion opposite; and each kept a watch on the other. Beautiful +Lisa laced herself more tightly in her stays; and the beautiful Norman replied +by placing additional rings on her fingers and additional bows on her +shoulders. When they met they were very bland and unctuous and profuse in +compliments; but all the while their eyes were furtively glancing from under +their lowered lids, in the hope of discovering some flaw. They made a point of +always dealing with each other, and professed great mutual affection. +</p> + +<p> +“I say,” said La Normande, with her smiling air, “it’s +to-morrow evening that you make your black-puddings, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa maintained a cold demeanour. She seldom showed any anger; but when she did +it was tenacious, and slow to be appeased. “Yes,” she replied +drily, with the tips of her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m so fond of black-puddings, you know, when they come straight +out of the pot,” resumed La Normande. “I’ll come and get some +of you to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +She was conscious of her rival’s unfriendly greeting. However, she +glanced at Florent, who seemed to interest her; and then, unwilling to go off +without having the last word, she was imprudent enough to add: “I bought +some black-pudding of you the day before yesterday, you know, and it +wasn’t quite sweet.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not quite sweet!” repeated Lisa, very pale, and her lips +quivering. +</p> + +<p> +She might, perhaps, have once more restrained herself, for fear of La Normande +imagining that she was overcome by envious spite at the sight of the lace bow; +but the girl, not content with playing the spy, proceeded to insult her, and +that was beyond endurance. So, leaning forward, with her hands clenched on the +counter, she exclaimed, in a somewhat hoarse voice: “I say! when you sold +me that pair of soles last week, did I come and tell you, before everybody that +they were stinking?” +</p> + +<p> +“Stinking! My soles stinking!” cried the fish dealer, flushing +scarlet. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment they remained silent, choking with anger, but glaring fiercely at +each other over the array of dishes. All their honeyed friendship had vanished; +a word had sufficed to reveal what sharp teeth there were behind their smiling +lips. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a vulgar, low creature!” cried the beautiful Norman. +“You’ll never catch me setting foot in here again, I can tell +you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Get along with you, get along with you,” exclaimed beautiful Lisa. +“I know quite well whom I’ve got to deal with!” +</p> + +<p> +The fish-girl went off, hurling behind her a coarse expression which left Lisa +quivering. The whole scene had passed so quickly that the three men, overcome +with amazement, had not had time to interfere. Lisa soon recovered herself, and +was resuming the conversation, without making any allusion to what had just +occurred, when the shop girl, Augustine, returned from an errand on which she +had been sent. Lisa thereupon took Gavard aside, and after telling him to say +nothing for the present to Monsieur Verlaque, promised that she would undertake +to convince her brother-in-law in a couple of days’ time at the utmost. +Quenu then returned to his kitchen, while Gavard took Florent off with him. And +as they were just going into Monsieur Lebigre’s to drink a drop of +vermouth together he called his attention to three women standing in the +covered way between the fish and poultry pavilions. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re cackling together!” he said with an envious air. +</p> + +<p> +The markets were growing empty, and Mademoiselle Saget, Madame Lecœur, and La +Sarriette alone lingered on the edge of the footway. The old maid was holding +forth. +</p> + +<p> +“As I told you before, Madame Lecœur,” said she, +“they’ve always got your brother-in-law in their shop. You saw him +there yourself just now, didn’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, indeed! He was sitting on a table, and seemed quite at +home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, for my part,” interrupted La Sarriette, “I heard +nothing wrong; and I can’t understand why you’re making such a +fuss.” +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget shrugged her shoulders. “Ah, you’re very +innocent yet, my dear,” she said. “Can’t you see why the +Quenus are always attracting Monsieur Gavard to their place? Well, I’ll +wager that he’ll leave all he has to their little Pauline.” +</p> + +<p> +“You believe that, do you?” cried Madame Lecœur, white with rage. +Then, in a mournful voice, as though she had just received some heavy blow, she +continued: “I am alone in the world, and have no one to take my part; he +is quite at liberty to do as he pleases. His niece sides with him too—you +heard her just now. She has quite forgotten all that she cost me, and +wouldn’t stir a hand to help me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, aunt,” exclaimed La Sarriette, “you are quite wrong +there! It’s you who’ve never had anything but unkind words for +me.” +</p> + +<p> +They became reconciled on the spot, and kissed one another. The niece promised +that she would play no more pranks, and the aunt swore by all she held most +sacred that she looked upon La Sarriette as her own daughter. Then Mademoiselle +Saget advised them as to the steps they ought to take to prevent Gavard from +squandering his money. And they all agreed that the Quenu-Gradelles were very +disreputable folks, and required closely watching. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what they’re up to just now,” said the +old maid, “but there’s something suspicious going on, I’m +sure. What’s your opinion, now, of that fellow Florent, that cousin of +Madame Quenu’s?” +</p> + +<p> +The three women drew more closely together, and lowered their voices. +</p> + +<p> +“You remember,” said Madame Lecœur, “that we saw him one +morning with his boots all split, and his clothes covered with dust, looking +just like a thief who’s been up to some roguery. That fellow quite +frightens me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he’s certainly very thin,” said La Sarriette, +“but he isn’t ugly.” +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget was reflecting, and she expressed her thoughts aloud. +“I’ve been trying to find out something about him for the last +fortnight, but I can make nothing of it. Monsieur Gavard certainly knows him. I +must have met him myself somewhere before, but I can’t remember +where.” +</p> + +<p> +She was still ransacking her memory when La Normande swept up to them like a +whirlwind. She had just left the pork shop. +</p> + +<p> +“That big booby Lisa has got nice manners, I must say!” she cried, +delighted to be able to relieve herself. “Fancy her telling me that I +sold nothing but stinking fish! But I gave her as good as she deserved, I can +tell you! A nice den they keep, with their tainted pig meat which poisons all +their customers!” +</p> + +<p> +“But what had you been saying to her?” asked the old maid, quite +frisky with excitement, and delighted to hear that the two women had +quarrelled. +</p> + +<p> +“I! I’d said just nothing at all—no, not that! I just went +into the shop and told her very civilly that I’d buy some black-pudding +to-morrow evening, and then she overwhelmed me with abuse. A dirty hypocrite +she is, with her saint-like airs! But she’ll pay more dearly for this +than she fancies!” +</p> + +<p> +The three women felt that La Normande was not telling them the truth, but this +did not prevent them from taking her part with a rush of bad language. They +turned towards the Rue Rambuteau with insulting mien, inventing all sorts of +stories about the uncleanliness of the cookery at the Quenu’s shop, and +making the most extraordinary accusations. If the Quenus had been detected +selling human flesh the women could not have displayed more violent and +threatening anger. The fish-girl was obliged to tell her story three times +over. +</p> + +<p> +“And what did the cousin say?” asked Mademoiselle Saget, with +wicked intent. +</p> + +<p> +“The cousin!” repeated La Normande, in a shrill voice. “Do +you really believe that he’s a cousin? He’s some lover or other, +I’ll wager, the great booby!” +</p> + +<p> +The three others protested against this. Lisa’s honourability was an +article of faith in the neighbourhood. +</p> + +<p> +“Stuff and nonsense!” retorted La Normande. “You can never be +sure about those smug, sleek hypocrites.” +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget nodded her head as if to say that she was not very far from +sharing La Normande’s opinion. And she softly added: “Especially as +this cousin has sprung from no one knows where; for it’s a very doubtful +sort of account that the Quenus give of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he’s the fat woman’s sweetheart, I tell you!” +reaffirmed the fish-girl; “some scamp or vagabond picked up in the +streets. It’s easy enough to see it.” +</p> + +<p> +“She has given him a complete outfit,” remarked Madame Lecœur. +“He must be costing her a pretty penny.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” muttered the old maid; “perhaps you are right. I +must really get to know something about him.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they all promised to keep one another thoroughly informed of whatever +might take place in the Quenu-Gradelle establishment. The butter dealer +pretended that she wished to open her brother-in-law’s eyes as to the +sort of places he frequented. However, La Normande’s anger had by this +time toned down, and, a good sort of girl at heart, she went off, weary of +having talked so much on the matter. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure that La Normande said something or other insolent,” +remarked Madame Lecœur knowingly, when the fish-girl had left them. “It +is just her way; and it scarcely becomes a creature like her to talk as she did +of Lisa.” +</p> + +<p> +The three women looked at each other and smiled. Then, when Madame Lecœur also +had gone off, La Sarriette remarked to Mademoiselle Saget: “It is foolish +of my aunt to worry herself so much about all these affairs. It’s that +which makes her so thin. Ah! she’d have willingly taken Gavard for a +husband if she could only have got him. Yet she used to beat me if ever a young +man looked my way.” +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget smiled once more. And when she found herself alone, and went +back towards the Rue Pirouette, she reflected that those three cackling hussies +were not worth a rope to hang them. She was, indeed, a little afraid that she +might have been seen with them, and the idea somewhat troubled her, for she +realised that it would be bad policy to fall out with the Quenu-Gradelles, who, +after all, were well-to-do folks and much esteemed. So she went a little out of +her way on purpose to call at Taboureau the baker’s in the Rue +Turbigo—the finest baker’s shop in the whole neighbourhood. Madame +Taboureau was not only an intimate friend of Lisa’s, but an accepted +authority on every subject. When it was remarked that “Madame Taboureau +had said this,” or “Madame Taboureau had said that,” there +was no more to be urged. So the old maid, calling at the baker’s under +pretence of inquiring at what time the oven would be hot, as she wished to +bring a dish of pears to be baked, took the opportunity to eulogise Lisa, and +lavish praise upon the sweetness and excellence of her black-puddings. Then, +well pleased at having prepared this moral alibi and delighted at having done +what she could to fan the flames of a quarrel without involving herself in it, +she briskly returned home, feeling much easier in her mind, but still striving +to recall where she had previously seen Madame Quenu’s so-called cousin. +</p> + +<p> +That same evening, after dinner, Florent went out and strolled for some time in +one of the covered ways of the markets. A fine mist was rising, and a grey +sadness, which the gas lights studded as with yellow tears, hung over the +deserted pavilions. For the first time Florent began to feel that he was in the +way, and to recognise the unmannerly fashion in which he, thin and artless, had +tumbled into this world of fat people; and he frankly admitted to himself that +his presence was disturbing the whole neighbourhood, and that he was a source +of discomfort to the Quenus—a spurious cousin of far too compromising +appearance. These reflections made him very sad; not, indeed, that they had +noticed the slightest harshness on the part of his brother or Lisa: it was +their very kindness, rather, that was troubling him, and he accused himself of +a lack of delicacy in quartering himself upon them. He was beginning to doubt +the propriety of his conduct. The recollection of the conversation in the shop +during the afternoon caused him a vague disquietude. The odour of the viands on +Lisa’s counter seemed to penetrate him; he felt himself gliding into +nerveless, satiated cowardice. Perhaps he had acted wrongly in refusing the +inspectorship offered him. This reflection gave birth to a stormy struggle in +his mind, and he was obliged to brace and shake himself before he could recover +his wonted rigidity of principles. However, a moist breeze had risen, and was +blowing along the covered way, and he regained some degree of calmness and +resolution on being obliged to button up his coat. The wind seemingly swept +from his clothes all the greasy odour of the pork shop, which had made him feel +so languid. +</p> + +<p> +He was returning home when he met Claude Lantier. The artist, hidden in the +folds of his greenish overcoat, spoke in a hollow voice full of suppressed +anger. He was in a passion with painting, declared that it was a dog’s +trade, and swore that he would not take up a brush again as long as he lived. +That very afternoon he had thrust his foot through a study which he had been +making of the head of that hussy Cadine. +</p> + +<p> +Claude was subject to these outbursts, the fruit of his inability to execute +the lasting, living works which he dreamed of. And at such times life became an +utter blank to him, and he wandered about the streets, wrapped in the gloomiest +thoughts, and waiting for the morning as for a sort of resurrection. He used to +say that he felt bright and cheerful in the morning, and horribly miserable in +the evening.[*] Each of his days was a long effort ending in disappointment. +Florent scarcely recognised in him the careless night wanderer of the markets. +They had already met again at the pork shop, and Claude, who knew the +fugitive’s story, had grasped his hand and told him that he was a +sterling fellow. It was very seldom, however, that the artist went to the +Quenus’. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] Claude Lantier’s struggle for fame is fully described in M. +Zola’s novel, <i>L’Oeuvre</i> (“His Masterpiece”). +—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you still at my aunt’s?” he asked. “I can’t +imagine how you manage to exist amidst all that cookery. The places reeks with +the smell of meat. When I’ve been there for an hour I feel as though I +shouldn’t want anything to eat for another three days. I ought not to +have gone there this morning; it was that which made me make a mess of my +work.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, after he and Florent had taken a few steps in silence, he resumed: +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! the good people! They quite grieve me with their fine health. I had +thought of painting their portraits, but I’ve never been able to succeed +with such round faces, in which there is never a bone. Ah! You wouldn’t +find my aunt Lisa kicking her foot through her pans! I was an idiot to have +destroyed Cadine’s head! Now that I come to think of it, it wasn’t +so very bad, perhaps, after all.” +</p> + +<p> +Then they began to talk about Aunt Lisa. Claude said that his mother[*] had not +seen anything of her for a long time, and he hinted that the pork +butcher’s wife was somewhat ashamed of her sister having married a common +working man; moreover, she wasn’t at all fond of unfortunate folks. +Speaking of himself, he told Florent that a benevolent gentleman had sent him +to college, being very pleased with the donkeys and old women that he had +managed to draw when only eight years old; but the good soul had died, leaving +him an income of a thousand francs, which just saved him from perishing of +hunger. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] Gervaise, the heroine of the <i>Assommoir</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“All the same, I would rather have been a working man,” continued +Claude. “Look at the carpenters, for instance. They are very happy folks, +the carpenters. They have a table to make, say; well, they make it, and then go +off to bed, happy at having finished the table, and perfectly satisfied with +themselves. Now I, on the other hand, scarcely get any sleep at nights. All +those confounded pictures which I can’t finish go flying about my brain. +I never get anything finished and done with—never, never!” +</p> + +<p> +His voice almost broke into a sob. Then he attempted to laugh; and afterwards +began to swear and pour forth coarse expressions, with the cold rage of one +who, endowed with a delicate, sensitive mind, doubts his own powers, and dreams +of wallowing in the mire. He ended by squatting down before one of the gratings +which admit air into the cellars beneath the markets—cellars where the +gas is continually kept burning. And in the depths below he pointed out +Marjolin and Cadine tranquilly eating their supper, whilst seated on one of the +stone blocks used for killing the poultry. The two young vagabonds had +discovered a means of hiding themselves and making themselves at home in the +cellars after the doors had been closed. +</p> + +<p> +“What a magnificent animal he is, eh!” exclaimed Claude, with +envious admiration, speaking of Marjolin. “He and Cadine are happy, at +all events! All they care for is eating and kissing. They haven’t a care +in the world. Ah, you do quite right, after all, to remain at the pork shop; +perhaps you’ll grow sleek and plump there.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he suddenly went off. Florent climbed up to his garret, disturbed by +Claude’s nervous restlessness, which revived his own uncertainty. On the +morrow, he avoided the pork shop all the morning, and went for a long walk on +the quays. When he returned to lunch, however, he was struck by Lisa’s +kindliness. Without any undue insistence she again spoke to him about the +inspectorship, as of something which was well worth his consideration. As he +listened to her, with a full plate in front of him, he was affected, in spite +of himself, by the prim comfort of his surroundings. The matting beneath his +feet seemed very soft; the gleams of the brass hanging lamp, the soft, yellow +tint of the wallpaper, and the bright oak of the furniture filled him with +appreciation of a life spent in comfort, which disturbed his notions of right +and wrong. He still, however, had sufficient strength to persist in his +refusal, and repeated his reasons; albeit conscious of the bad taste he was +showing in thus ostentatiously parading his animosity and obstinacy in such a +place. Lisa showed no signs of vexation; on the contrary, she smiled, and the +sweetness of her smile embarrassed Florent far more than her suppressed +irritation of the previous evening. At dinner the subject was not renewed; they +talked solely of the great winter saltings, which would keep the whole staff of +the establishment busily employed. +</p> + +<p> +The evenings were growing cold, and as soon as they had dined they retired into +the kitchen, where it was very warm. The room was so large, too, that several +people could sit comfortably at the square central table, without in any way +impeding the work that was going on. Lighted by gas, the walls were coated with +white and blue tiles to a height of some five or six feet from the floor. On +the left was a great iron stove, in the three apertures of which were set three +large round pots, their bottoms black with soot. At the end was a small range, +which, fitted with an oven and a smoking-place, served for the broiling; and up +above, over the skimming-spoons, ladles, and long-handled forks, were several +numbered drawers, containing rasped bread, both fine and coarse, toasted +crumbs, spices, cloves, nutmegs, and pepper. On the right, leaning heavily +against the wall, was the chopping-block, a huge mass of oak, slashed and +scored all over. Attached to it were several appliances, an injecting pump, a +forcing-machine, and a mechanical mincer, which, with their wheels and cranks, +imparted to the place an uncanny and mysterious aspect, suggesting some kitchen +of the infernal regions. +</p> + +<p> +Then, all round the walls upon shelves, and even under the tables, were iron +pots, earthenware pans, dishes, pails, various kinds of tin utensils, a perfect +battery of deep copper saucepans, and swelling funnels, racks of knives and +choppers, rows of larding-pins and needles—a perfect world of greasy +things. In spite of the extreme cleanliness, grease was paramount; it oozed +forth from between the blue and white tiles on the wall, glistened on the red +tiles of the flooring, gave a greyish glitter to the stove, and polished the +edges of the chopping-block with the transparent sheen of varnished oak. And, +indeed, amidst the ever-rising steam, the continuous evaporation from the three +big pots, in which pork was boiling and melting, there was not a single nail +from ceiling to floor from which grease did not exude. +</p> + +<p> +The Quenu-Gradelles prepared nearly all their stock themselves. All that they +procured from outside were the potted meats of celebrated firms, with jars of +pickles and preserves, sardines, cheese, and edible snails. They consequently +became very busy after September in filling the cellars which had been emptied +during the summer. They continued working even after the shop had been closed +for the night. Assisted by Auguste and Leon, Quenu would stuff sausages-skins, +prepare hams, melt down lard, and salt the different sorts of bacon. There was +a tremendous noise of cauldrons and cleavers, and the odour of cooking spread +through the whole house. All this was quite independent of the daily business +in fresh pork, <i>paté de fois gras</i>, hare patty, galantine, saveloys and +black-puddings. +</p> + +<p> +That evening, at about eleven o’clock, Quenu, after placing a couple of +pots on the fire in order to melt down some lard, began to prepare the +black-puddings. Auguste assisted him. At one corner of the square table Lisa +and Augustine sat mending linen, whilst opposite to them, on the other side, +with his face turned towards the fireplace, was Florent. Leon was mincing some +sausage-meat on the oak block in a slow, rhythmical fashion. +</p> + +<p> +Auguste first of all went out into the yard to fetch a couple of jug-like cans +full of pigs’ blood. It was he who stuck the animals in the slaughter +house. He himself would carry away the blood and interior portions of the pigs, +leaving the men who scalded the carcasses to bring them home completely dressed +in their carts. Quenu asserted that no assistant in all Paris was +Auguste’ equal as a pig-sticker. The truth was that Auguste was a +wonderfully keen judge of the quality of the blood; and the black-pudding +proved good every time that he said such would be the case. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, will the black-pudding be good this time?” asked Lisa. +</p> + +<p> +August put down the two cans and slowly answered: “I believe so, Madame +Quenu; yes, I believe so. I tell it at first by the way the blood flows. If it +spurts out very gently when I pull out the knife, that’s a bad sign, and +shows that the blood is poor.” +</p> + +<p> +“But doesn’t that depend on how far the knife has been stuck +in?” asked Quenu. +</p> + +<p> +A smile came over Auguste’s pale face. “No,” he replied; +“I always let four digits of the blade go in; that’s the right way +to measure. But the best sign of all is when the blood runs out and I beat it +with my hand when it pours into the pail; it ought to be of a good warmth, and +creamy, without being too thick.” +</p> + +<p> +Augustine had put down her needle, and with her eyes raised was now gazing at +Auguste. On her ruddy face, crowned by wiry chestnut hair, there was an +expression of profound attention. Lisa and even little Pauline were also +listening with deep interest. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I beat it, and beat it, and beat it,” continued the young +man, whisking his hand about as though he were whipping cream. “And then, +when I take my hand out and look at it, it ought to be greased, as it were, by +the blood and equally coated all over. And if that’s the case, anyone can +say without fear of mistake that the black-puddings will be good.” +</p> + +<p> +He remained for a moment in an easy attitude, complacently holding his hand in +the air. This hand, which spent so much of its time in pails of blood, had +brightly gleaming nails, and looked very rosy above his white sleeve. Quenu had +nodded his head in approbation, and an interval of silence followed. Leon was +still mincing. Pauline, however, after remaining thoughtful for a little while, +mounted upon Florent’s feet again, and in her clear voice exclaimed: +“I say, cousin, tell me the story of the gentleman who was eaten by the +wild beasts!” +</p> + +<p> +It was probably the mention of the pig’s blood which had aroused in the +child’s mind the recollection of “the gentleman who had been eaten +by the wild beasts.” Florent did not at first understand what she +referred to, and asked her what gentleman she meant. Lisa began to smile. +</p> + +<p> +“She wants you to tell her,” she said, “the story of that +unfortunate man—you know whom I mean—which you told to Gavard one +evening. She must have heard you.” +</p> + +<p> +At this Florent grew very grave. The little girl got up, and taking the big cat +in her arms, placed it on his knees, saying that Mouton also would like to hear +the story. Mouton, however, leapt on to the table, where, with rounded back, he +remained contemplating the tall, scraggy individual who for the last fortnight +had apparently afforded him matter for deep reflection. Pauline meantime began +to grow impatient, stamping her feet and insisting on hearing the story. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, tell her what she wants,” said Lisa, as the child persisted +and became quite unbearable; “she’ll leave us in peace then.” +</p> + +<p> +Florent remained silent for a moment longer, with his eyes turned towards the +floor. Then slowly raising his head he let his gaze rest first on the two women +who were plying their needles, and next on Quenu and Auguste, who were +preparing the pot for the black-puddings. The gas was burning quietly, the +stove diffused a gentle warmth, and all the grease of the kitchen glistened in +an atmosphere of comfort such as attends good digestion +</p> + +<p> +Then, taking little Pauline upon his knee, and smiling a sad smile, Florent +addressed himself to the child as follows[*]:— +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] Florent’s narrative is not romance, but is based on the statements of +several of the innocent victims whom the third Napoleon transported to Cayenne +when wading through blood to the power which he so misused.—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +“Once upon a time there was a poor man who was sent away, a long, long +way off, right across the sea. On the ship which carried him were four hundred +convicts, and he was thrown among them. He was forced to live for five weeks +amidst all those scoundrels, dressed like them in coarse canvas, and feeding at +their mess. Foul insects preyed on him, and terrible sweats robbed him of all +his strength. The kitchen, the bakehouse, and the engine-room made the orlop +deck so terribly hot that ten of the convicts died from it. In the daytime they +were sent up in batches of fifty to get a little fresh air from the sea; and as +the crew of the ship feared them, a couple of cannons were pointed at the +little bit of deck where they took exercise. The poor fellow was very glad +indeed when his turn to go up came. His terrible perspiration then abated +somewhat; still, he could not eat, and felt very ill. During the night, when he +was manacled again, and the rolling of the ship in the rough sea kept knocking +him against his companions, he quite broke down, and began to cry, glad to be +able to do so without being seen.” +</p> + +<p> +Pauline was listening with dilated eyes, and her little hands crossed primly in +front of her. +</p> + +<p> +“But this isn’t the story of the gentleman who was eaten by the +wild beasts,” she interrupted. “This is quite a different story; +isn’t it now, cousin?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a bit, and you’ll see,” replied Florent gently. +“I shall come to the gentleman presently. I’m telling you the whole +story from the beginning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, thank you,” murmured the child, with a delighted expression. +However, she remained thoughtful, evidently struggling with some great +difficulty to which she could find no explanation. At last she spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“But what had the poor man done,” she asked, “that he was +sent away and put in the ship?” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa and Augustine smiled. They were quite charmed with the child’s +intelligence; and Lisa, without giving the little one a direct reply, took +advantage of the opportunity to teach her a lesson by telling her that naughty +children were also sent away in boats like that. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, then,” remarked Pauline judiciously, “perhaps it served +my cousin’s poor man quite right if he cried all night long.” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa resumed her sewing, bending over her work. Quenu had not listened. He had +been cutting some little rounds of onion over a pot placed on the fire; and +almost at once the onions began to crackle, raising a clear shrill chirrup like +that of grasshoppers basking in the heat. They gave out a pleasant odour too, +and when Quenu plunged his great wooden spoon into the pot the chirruping +became yet louder, and the whole kitchen was filled with the penetrating +perfume of the onions. Auguste meantime was preparing some bacon fat in a dish, +and Leon’s chopper fell faster and faster, and every now and then scraped +the block so as to gather together the sausage-meat, now almost a paste. +</p> + +<p> +“When they got across the sea,” Florent continued, “they took +the man to an island called the Devil’s Island,[*] where he found himself +amongst others who had been carried away from their own country. They were all +very unhappy. At first they were kept to hard labour, just like convicts. The +gendarme who had charge of them counted them three times every day, so as to be +sure that none were missing. Later on, they were left free to do as they liked, +being merely locked up at night in a big wooden hut, where they slept in +hammocks stretched between two bars. At the end of the year they went about +barefooted, as their boots were quite worn out, and their clothes had become so +ragged that their flesh showed through them. They had built themselves some +huts with trunks of trees as a shelter against the sun, which is terribly hot +in those parts; but these huts did not shield them against the mosquitoes, +which covered them with pimples and swellings during the night. Many of them +died, and the others turned quite yellow, so shrunken and wretched, with their +long, unkempt beards, that one could not behold them without pity.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] The Île du Diable. This spot was selected as the place of detention of +Captain Dreyfus, the French officer convicted in 1894 of having divulged +important military documents to foreign powers.—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +“Auguste, give me the fat,” cried Quenu; and when the apprentice +had handed him the dish he let the pieces of bacon-fat slide gently into the +pot, and then stirred them with his spoon. A yet denser steam now rose from the +fireplace. +</p> + +<p> +“What did they give them to eat?” asked little Pauline, who seemed +deeply interested. +</p> + +<p> +“They gave them maggoty rice and foul meat,” answered Florent, +whose voice grew lower as he spoke. “The rice could scarcely be eaten. +When the meat was roasted and very well done it was just possible to swallow +it; but if it was boiled, it smelt so dreadfully that the men had nausea and +stomach ache.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d rather have lived upon dry bread,” said the child, after +thinking the matter carefully over. +</p> + +<p> +Leon, having finished the mincing, now placed the sausage-meat upon the square +table in a dish. Mouton, who had remained seated with his eyes fixed upon +Florent, as though filled with amazement by his story, was obliged to retreat a +few steps, which he did with a very bad grace. Then he rolled himself up, with +his nose close to the sausage-meat, and began to purr. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa was unable to conceal her disgust and amazement. That foul rice, that +evil-smelling meat, seemed to her to be scarcely credible abominations, which +disgraced those who had eaten them as much as it did those who had provided +them; and her calm, handsome face and round neck quivered with vague fear of +the man who had lived upon such horrid food. +</p> + +<p> +“No, indeed, it was not a land of delights,” Florent resumed, +forgetting all about little Pauline, and fixing his dreamy eyes upon the +steaming pot. “Every day brought fresh annoyances—perpetual +grinding tyranny, the violation of every principle of justice, contempt for all +human charity, which exasperated the prisoners, and slowly consumed them with a +fever of sickly rancour. They lived like wild beasts, with the lash ceaselessly +raised over their backs. Those torturers would have liked to kill the poor +man—Oh, no; it can never be forgotten; it is impossible! Such sufferings +will some day claim vengeance.” +</p> + +<p> +His voice had fallen, and the pieces of fat hissing merrily in the pot drowned +it with the sound of their boiling. Lisa, however, heard him, and was +frightened by the implacable expression which had suddenly come over his face; +and, recollecting the gentle look which he habitually wore, she judged him to +be a hypocrite. +</p> + +<p> +Florent’s hollow voice had brought Pauline’s interest and delight +to the highest pitch, and she fidgeted with pleasure on his knee. +</p> + +<p> +“But the man?” she exclaimed. “Go on about the man!” +</p> + +<p> +Florent looked at her, and then appeared to remember, and smiled his sad smile +again. +</p> + +<p> +“The man,” he continued, “was weary of remaining on the +island, and had but one thought—that of making his escape by crossing the +sea and reaching the mainland, whose white coast line could be seen on the +horizon in clear weather. But it was no easy matter to escape. It was necessary +that a raft should be built, and as several of the prisoners had already made +their escape, all the trees on the island had been felled to prevent the others +from obtaining timber. The island was, indeed, so bare and naked, so scorched +by the blazing sun, that life in it had become yet more perilous and terrible. +However, it occurred to the man and two of his companions to employ the timbers +of which their huts were built; and one evening they put out to sea on some +rotten beams, which they had fastened together with dry branches. The wind +carried them towards the coast. Just as daylight was about to appear, the raft +struck on a sandbank with such violence that the beams were severed from their +lashings and carried out to sea. The three poor fellows were almost engulfed in +the sand. Two of them sank in it to their waists, while the third disappeared +up to his chin, and his companions were obliged to pull him out. At last they +reached a rock, so small that there was scarcely room for them to sit down upon +it. When the sun rose they could see the coast in front of them, a bar of grey +cliffs stretching all along the horizon. Two, who knew how to swim, determined +to reach those cliffs. They preferred to run the risk of being drowned at once +to that of slowly starving on the rock. But they promised their companion that +they would return for him when they had reached land and had been able to +procure a boat.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, I know now!” cried little Pauline, clapping her hands with +glee. “It’s the story of the gentleman who was eaten by the +crabs!” +</p> + +<p> +“They succeeded in reaching the coast,” continued Florent, +“but it was quite deserted; and it was only at the end of four days that +they were able to get a boat. When they returned to the rock, they found their +companion lying on his back, dead, and half-eaten by crabs, which were still +swarming over what remained of his body.”[*] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] In deference to the easily shocked feelings of the average English reader I +have somewhat modified this passage. In the original M. Zola fully describes +the awful appearance of the body.—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +A murmur of disgust escaped Lisa and Augustine, and a horrified grimace passed +over the face of Leon, who was preparing the skins for the black-puddings. +Quenu stopped in the midst of his work and looked at Auguste, who seemed to +have turned faint. Only little Pauline was smiling. In imagination the others +could picture those swarming, ravenous crabs crawling all over the kitchen, and +mingling gruesome odours with the aroma of the bacon-fat and onions. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me the blood,” cried Quenu, who had not been following the +story. +</p> + +<p> +Auguste came up to him with the two cans, from which he slowly poured the +blood, while Quenu, as it fell, vigorously stirred the now thickening contents +of the pot. When the cans were emptied, Quenu reached up to one of the drawers +above the range, and took out some pinches of spice. Then he added a plentiful +seasoning of pepper. +</p> + +<p> +“They left him there, didn’t they,” Lisa now asked of +Florent, “and returned themselves in safety?” +</p> + +<p> +“As they were going back,” continued Florent, “the wind +changed, and they were driven out into the open sea. A wave carried away one of +their oars, and the water swept so furiously into the boat that their whole +time was taken up in baling it out with their hands. They tossed about in this +way in sight of the coast, carried away by squalls and then brought back again +by the tide, without a mouthful of bread to eat, for their scanty stock of +provisions had been consumed. This went on for three days.” +</p> + +<p> +“Three days!” cried Lisa in stupefaction; “three days without +food!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, three days without food. When the east wind at last brought them to +shore, one of them was so weak that he lay on the beach the whole day. In the +evening he died. His companion had vainly attempted to get him to chew some +leaves which he gathered from the trees.” +</p> + +<p> +At this point Augustine broke into a slight laugh. Then, ashamed at having done +so and not wishing to be considered heartless, she stammered out in confusion: +“Oh! I wasn’t laughing at that. It was Mouton. Do just look at +Mouton, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Lisa in her turn began to smile. Mouton, who had been lying all this time +with his nose close to the dish of sausage-meat, had probably begun to feel +distressed and disgusted by the presence of all this food, for he had risen and +was rapidly scratching the table with his paws as though he wanted to bury the +dish and its contents. At last, however, turning his back to it and lying down +on his side, he stretched himself out, half closing his eyes and rubbing his +head against the table with languid pleasure. Then they all began to compliment +Mouton. He never stole anything, they said, and could be safely left with the +meat. Pauline related that he licked her fingers and washed her face after +dinner without trying to bite her. +</p> + +<p> +However, Lisa now came back to the question as to whether it were possible to +live for three days without food. In her opinion it was not. “No,” +she said, “I can’t believe it. No one ever goes three days without +food. When people talk of a person dying of hunger, it is a mere expression. +They always get something to eat, more or less. It is only the most abandoned +wretches, people who are utterly lost——” +</p> + +<p> +She was doubtless going to add, “vagrant rogues,” but she stopped +short and looked at Florent. The scornful pout of her lips and the expression +of her bright eyes plainly signified that in her belief only villains made such +prolonged fasts. It seemed to her that a man able to remain without food for +three days must necessarily be a very dangerous character. For, indeed, honest +folks never placed themselves in such a position. +</p> + +<p> +Florent was now almost stifling. In front of him the stove, into which Leon had +just thrown several shovelfuls of coal, was snoring like a lay clerk asleep in +the sun; and the heat was very great. Auguste, who had taken charge of the lard +melting in the pots, was watching over it in a state of perspiration, and Quenu +wiped his brow with his sleeve whilst waiting for the blood to mix. A +drowsiness such as follows gross feeding, an atmosphere heavy with indigestion, +pervaded the kitchen. +</p> + +<p> +“When the man had buried his comrade in the sand,” Florent +continued slowly, “he walked off alone straight in front of him. Dutch +Guiana, in which country he now was, is a land of forests intermingled with +rivers and swamps. The man walked on for more than a week without coming across +a single human dwelling-place. All around, death seemed to be lurking and lying +in wait for him. Though his stomach was racked by hunger, he often did not dare +to eat the bright-coloured fruits which hung from the trees; he was afraid to +touch the glittering berries, fearing lest they should be poisonous. For whole +days he did not see a patch of sky, but tramped on beneath a canopy of +branches, amidst a greenish gloom that swarmed with horrible living creatures. +Great birds flew over his head with a terrible flapping of wings and sudden +strange calls resembling death groans; apes sprang, wild animals rushed through +the thickets around him, bending the saplings and bringing down a rain of +leaves, as though a gale were passing. But it was particularly the serpents +that turned his blood cold when, stepping upon a matting of moving, withered +leaves, he caught sight of their slim heads gliding amidst a horrid maze of +roots. In certain nooks, nooks of dank shadow, swarming colonies of +reptiles—some black, some yellow, some purple, some striped, some +spotted, and some resembling withered reeds—suddenly awakened into life +and wriggled away. At such times the man would stop and look about for a stone +on which he might take refuge from the soft yielding ground into which his feet +sank; and there he would remain for hours, terror-stricken on espying in some +open space near by a boa, who, with tail coiled and head erect, swayed like the +trunk of a big tree splotched with gold. +</p> + +<p> +“At night he used to sleep in the trees, alarmed by the slightest +rustling of the branches, and fancying that he could hear endless swarms of +serpents gliding through the gloom. He almost stifled beneath the interminable +expanse of foliage. The gloomy shade reeked with close, oppressive heat, a +clammy dankness and pestilential sweat, impregnated with the coarse aroma of +scented wood and malodorous flowers. +</p> + +<p> +“And when at last, after a long weary tramp, the man made his way out of +the forest and beheld the sky again, he found himself confronted by wide rivers +which barred his way. He skirted their banks, keeping a watchful eye on the +grey backs of the alligators and the masses of drifting vegetation, and then, +when he came to a less suspicious-looking spot, he swam across. And beyond the +rivers the forests began again. At other times there were vast prairie lands, +leagues of thick vegetation, in which, at distant intervals, small lakes +gleamed bluely. The man then made a wide detour, and sounded the ground beneath +him before advancing, having but narrowly escaped from being swallowed up and +buried beneath one of those smiling plains which he could hear cracking at each +step he took. The giant grass, nourished by all the collected humus, concealed +pestiferous marshes, depths of liquid mud; and amongst the expanses of verdure +spread over the glaucous immensity to the very horizon there were only narrow +stretches of firm ground with which the traveller must be acquainted if he +would avoid disappearing for ever. One night the man sank down as far as his +waist. At each effort he made to extricate himself the mud threatened to rise +to his mouth. Then he remained quite still for nearly a couple of hours; and +when the moon rose he was fortunately able to catch hold of a branch of a tree +above his head. By the time he reached a human dwelling his hands and feet were +bruised and bleeding, swollen with poisonous stings. He presented such a +pitiable, famished appearance that those who saw him were afraid of him. They +tossed him some food fifty yards away from the house, and the master of it kept +guard over his door with a loaded gun.” +</p> + +<p> +Florent stopped, his voice choked by emotion, and his eyes gazing blankly +before him. For some minutes he had seemed to be speaking to himself alone. +Little Pauline, who had grown drowsy, was lying in his arms with her head +thrown back, though striving to keep her wondering eyes open. And Quenu, for +his part, appeared to be getting impatient. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, you stupid!” he shouted to Leon, “don’t you know +how to hold a skin yet? What do you stand staring at me for? It’s the +skin you should look at, not me! There, hold it like that, and don’t move +again!” +</p> + +<p> +With his right hand Leon was raising a long string of sausage-skin, at one end +of which a very wide funnel was inserted; while with his left hand he coiled +the black-pudding round a metal bowl as fast as Quenu filled the funnel with +big spoonfuls of the meat. The latter, black and steaming, flowed through the +funnel, gradually inflating the skin, which fell down again, gorged to +repletion and curving languidly. As Quenu had removed the pot from the range +both he and Leon stood out prominently, he broad visaged, and the lad slender +of profile, in the burning glow which cast over their pale faces and white +garments a flood of rosy light. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa and Augustine watched the filling of the skin with great interest, Lisa +especially; and she in her turn found fault with Leon because he nipped the +skin too tightly with his fingers, which caused knots to form, she said. When +the skin was quite full, Quenu let it slip gently into a pot of boiling water; +and seemed quite easy in his mind again, for now nothing remained but to leave +it to boil. +</p> + +<p> +“And the man—go on about the man!” murmured Pauline, opening +her eyes, and surprised at no longer hearing the narrative. +</p> + +<p> +Florent rocked her on his knee, and resumed his story in a slow, murmuring +voice, suggestive of that of a nurse singing an infant to sleep. +</p> + +<p> +“The man,” he said, “arrived at a large town. There he was at +first taken for an escaped convict, and was kept in prison for several months. +Then he was released, and turned his hand to all sorts of work. He kept +accounts and taught children to read, and at one time he was even employed as a +navvy in making an embankment. He was continually hoping to return to his own +country. He had saved the necessary amount of money when he was attacked by +yellow fever. Then, believing him to be dead, those about him divided his +clothes amongst themselves; so that when he at last recovered he had not even a +shirt left. He had to begin all over again. The man was very weak, and was +afraid he might have to remain where he was. But at last he was able to get +away, and he returned.” +</p> + +<p> +His voice had sunk lower and lower, and now died away altogether in a final +quivering of his lips. The close of the story had lulled little Pauline to +sleep, and she was now slumbering with her head on Florent’s shoulder. He +held her with one arm, and still gently rocked her on his knee. No one seemed +to pay any further attention to him, so he remained still and quiet where he +was, holding the sleeping child. +</p> + +<p> +Now came the tug of war, as Quenu said. He had to remove the black-puddings +from the pot. In order to avoid breaking them or getting them entangled, he +coiled them round a thick wooden pin as he drew them out, and then carried them +into the yard and hung them on screens, where they quickly dried. Leon helped +him, holding up the drooping ends. And as these reeking festoons of +black-pudding crossed the kitchen they left behind them a trail of odorous +steam, which still further thickened the dense atmosphere. +</p> + +<p> +Auguste, on his side, after giving a hasty glance at the lard moulds, now took +the covers off the two pots in which the fat was simmering, and each bursting +bubble discharged an acrid vapour into the kitchen. The greasy haze had been +gradually rising ever since the beginning of the evening, and now it shrouded +the gas and pervaded the whole room, streaming everywhere, and veiling the +ruddy whiteness of Quenu and his two assistants. Lisa and Augustine had risen +from their seats; and all were panting as though they had eaten too much. +</p> + +<p> +Augustine carried the sleeping Pauline upstairs; and Quenu, who liked to fasten +up the kitchen himself, gave Auguste and Leon leave to go to bed, saying that +he would fetch the black-pudding himself. The younger apprentice stole off with +a very red face, having managed to secrete under his shirt nearly a yard of the +pudding, which must have almost scalded him. Then the Quenus and Florent +remained alone, in silence. Lisa stood nibbling a little piece of the hot +pudding, keeping her pretty lips well apart all the while, for fear of burning +them, and gradually the black compound vanished in her rosy mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” said she, “La Normande was foolish in behaving so +rudely; the black-pudding’s excellent to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +However, there was a knock at the passage door, and Gavard, who stayed at +Monsieur Lebigre’s every evening until midnight, came in. He had called +for a definite answer about the fish inspectorship. +</p> + +<p> +“You must understand,” he said, “that Monsieur Verlaque +cannot wait any longer; he is too ill. So Florent must make up his mind. I have +promised to give a positive answer early to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Florent accepts,” Lisa quietly remarked, taking another +nibble at some black-pudding. +</p> + +<p> +Florent, who had remained in his chair, overcome by a strange feeling of +prostration, vainly endeavoured to rise and protest. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, say nothing,” continued Lisa; “the matter is quite +settled. You have suffered quite enough already, my dear Florent. What you have +just been telling us is enough to make one shudder. It is time now for you to +settle down. You belong to a respectable family, you received a good education, +and it is really not fitting that you should go wandering about the highways +like a vagrant. At your age childishness is no longer excusable. You have been +foolish; well, all that will be forgotten and forgiven. You will take your +place again among those of your own class—the class of respectable +folks—and live in future like other people.” +</p> + +<p> +Florent listened in astonishment, quite unable to say a word. Lisa was, +doubtless, right. She looked so healthy, so serene, that it was impossible to +imagine that she desired anything but what was proper. It was he, with his +fleshless body and dark, equivocal-looking countenance, who must be in the +wrong, and indulging in unrighteous dreams. He could, indeed, no longer +understand why he had hitherto resisted. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa, however, continued to talk to him with an abundant flow of words, as +though he were a little boy found in fault and threatened with the police. She +assumed, indeed, a most maternal manner, and plied him with the most convincing +reasons. And at last, as a final argument, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“Do it for us, Florent. We occupy a fair position in the neighbourhood +which obliges us to use a certain amount of circumspection; and, to tell you +the truth, between ourselves, I’m afraid that people will begin to talk. +This inspectorship will set everything right; you will be somebody; you will +even be an honour to us.” +</p> + +<p> +Her manner had become caressingly persuasive, and Florent was penetrated by all +the surrounding plenteousness, all the aroma filling the kitchen, where he fed, +as it were, on the nourishment floating in the atmosphere. He sank into +blissful meanness, born of all the copious feeding that went on in the sphere +of plenty in which he had been living during the last fortnight. He felt, as it +were, the titillation of forming fat which spread slowly all over his body. He +experienced the languid beatitude of shopkeepers, whose chief concern is to +fill their bellies. At this late hour of night, in the warm atmosphere of the +kitchen, all his acerbity and determination melted away. That peaceable +evening, with the odour of the black-pudding and the lard, and the sight of +plump little Pauline slumbering on his knee, had so enervated him that he found +himself wishing for a succession of such evenings—endless ones which +would make him fat. +</p> + +<p> +However, it was the sight of Mouton that chiefly decided him. Mouton was sound +asleep, with his stomach turned upwards, one of his paws resting on his nose, +and his tail twisted over this side, as though to keep him warm; and he was +slumbering with such an expression of feline happiness that Florent, as he +gazed at him, murmured: “No, it would be too foolish! I accept the berth. +Say that I accept it, Gavard.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Lisa finished eating her black-pudding, and wiped her fingers on the edge +of her apron. And next she got her brother-in-law’s candle ready for him, +while Gavard and Quenu congratulated him on his decision. It was always +necessary for a man to settle down, said they; the breakneck freaks of politics +did not provide one with food. And, meantime, Lisa, standing there with the +lighted candle in her hand, looked at him with an expression of satisfaction +resting on her handsome face, placid like that of some sacred cow. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap03"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p> +Three days later the necessary formalities were gone through, and without demur +the police authorities at the Prefecture accepted Florent on Monsieur +Verlaque’s recommendation as his substitute. Gavard, by the way, had made +it a point to accompany them. When he again found himself alone with Florent he +kept nudging his ribs with his elbow as they walked along together, and +laughed, without saying anything, while winking his eyes in a jeering way. He +seemed to find something very ridiculous in the appearance of the police +officers whom they met on the Quai de l’Horloge, for, as he passed them, +he slightly shrugged his shoulders and made the grimace of a man seeking to +restrain himself from laughing in people’s faces. +</p> + +<p> +On the following morning Monsieur Verlaque began to initiate the new inspector +into the duties of his office. It had been arranged that during the next few +days he should make him acquainted with the turbulent sphere which he would +have to supervise. Poor Verlaque, as Gavard called him was a pale little man, +swathed in flannels, handkerchiefs, and mufflers. Constantly coughing, he made +his way through the cool, moist atmosphere, and running waters of the fish +market, on a pair of scraggy legs like those of a sickly child. +</p> + +<p> +When Florent made his appearance on the first morning, at seven o’clock, +he felt quite distracted; his eyes were dazed, his head ached with all the +noise and riot. Retail dealers were already prowling about the auction +pavilion; clerks were arriving with their ledgers, and consigners’ +agents, with leather bags slung over their shoulders, sat on overturned chairs +by the salesmen’s desks, waiting to receive their cash. Fish was being +unloaded and unpacked not only in the enclosure, but even on the footways. All +along the latter were piles of small baskets, an endless arrival of cases and +hampers, and sacks of mussels, from which streamlets of water trickled. The +auctioneers’ assistants, all looking very busy, sprang over the heaps, +tore away the straw at the tops of the baskets, emptied the latter, and tossed +them aside. They then speedily transferred their contents in lots to huge +wickerwork trays, arranging them with a turn of the hand so that they might +show to the best advantage. And when the large tray-like baskets were all set +out, Florent could almost fancy that a whole shoal of fish had got stranded +there, still quivering with life, and gleaming with rosy nacre, scarlet coral, +and milky pearl, all the soft, pale, sheeny hues of the ocean. +</p> + +<p> +The deep-lying forests of seaweed, in which the mysterious life of the ocean +slumbers, seemed at one haul of the nets to have yielded up all they contained. +There were cod, keeling, whiting, flounders, plaice, dabs, and other sorts of +common fish of a dingy grey with whitish splotches; there were conger-eels, +huge serpent-like creatures, with small black eyes and muddy, bluish skins, so +slimy that they still seemed to be gliding along, yet alive. There were broad +flat skate with pale undersides edged with a soft red, and superb backs bumpy +with vertebrae, and marbled down to the tautly stretched ribs of their fins +with splotches of cinnabar, intersected by streaks of the tint of Florentine +bronze—a dark medley of colour suggestive of the hues of a toad or some +poisonous flower. Then, too, there were hideous dog-fish, with round heads, +widely-gaping mouths like those of Chinese idols, and short fins like +bats’ wings; fit monsters to keep yelping guard over the treasures of the +ocean grottoes. And next came the finer fish, displayed singly on the osier +trays; salmon that gleamed like chased silver, every scale seemingly outlined +by a graving-tool on a polished metal surface; mullet with larger scales and +coarser markings; large turbot and huge brill with firm flesh white like +curdled milk; tunny-fish, smooth and glossy, like bags of blackish leather; and +rounded bass, with widely gaping mouths which a soul too large for the body +seemed to have rent asunder as it forced its way out amidst the stupefaction of +death. And on all sides there were sole, brown and grey, in pairs; sand-eels, +slim and stiff, like shavings of pewter; herrings, slightly twisted, with +bleeding gills showing on their silver-worked skins; fat dories tinged with +just a suspicion of carmine; burnished mackerel with green-streaked backs, and +sides gleaming with ever-changing iridescence; and rosy gurnets with white +bellies, their head towards the centre of the baskets and their tails radiating +all around, so that they simulated some strange florescence splotched with +pearly white and brilliant vermilion. There were rock mullet, too, with +delicious flesh, flushed with the pinky tinge peculiar to the Cyprinus family; +boxes of whiting with opaline reflections; and baskets of smelts—neat +little baskets, pretty as those used for strawberries, and exhaling a strong +scent of violets. And meantime the tiny black eyes of the shrimps dotted as +with beads of jet their soft-toned mass of pink and grey; and spiny crawfish +and lobsters striped with black, all still alive, raised a grating sound as +they tried to crawl along with their broken claws. +</p> + +<p> +Florent gave but indifferent attention to Monsieur Verlaque’s +explanations. A flood of sunshine suddenly streamed through the lofty glass +roof of the covered way, lighting up all these precious colours, toned and +softened by the waves—the iridescent flesh-tints of the shell-fish, the +opal of the whiting, the pearly nacre of the mackerel, the ruddy gold of the +mullets, the plated skins of the herrings, and massive silver of the salmon. It +was as though the jewel-cases of some sea-nymph had been emptied there—a +mass of fantastical, undreamt-of ornaments, a streaming and heaping of +necklaces, monstrous bracelets, gigantic brooches, barbaric gems and jewels, +the use of which could not be divined. On the backs of the skate and the +dog-fish you saw, as it were, big dull green and purple stones set in dark +metal, while the slender forms of the sand-eels and the tails and fins of the +smelts displayed all the delicacy of finely wrought silver-work. +</p> + +<p> +And meantime Florent’s face was fanned by a fresh breeze, a sharp, salt +breeze redolent of the sea. It reminded him of the coasts of Guiana and his +voyages. He half fancied that he was gazing at some bay left dry by the +receding tide, with the seaweed steaming in the sun, the bare rocks drying, and +the beach smelling strongly of the brine. All around him the fish in their +perfect freshness exhaled a pleasant perfume, that slightly sharp, irritating +perfume which depraves the appetite. +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Verlaque coughed. The dampness was affecting him, and he wrapped his +muffler more closely about his neck. +</p> + +<p> +“Now,” said he, “we will pass on to the fresh water +fish.” +</p> + +<p> +This was in a pavilion beside the fruit market, the last one, indeed, in the +direction of the Rue Rambuteau. On either side of the space reserved for the +auctions were large circular stone basins, divided into separate compartments +by iron gratings. Slender streams of water flowed from brass jets shaped like +swan’s necks; and the compartments were filled with swarming colonies of +crawfish, black-backed carp ever on the move, and mazy tangles of eels, +incessantly knotting and unknotting themselves. Again was Monsieur Verlaque +attacked by an obstinate fit of coughing. The moisture of the atmosphere was +more insipid here than amongst the sea water fish: there was a riverside scent, +as of sun-warmed water slumbering on a bed of sand. +</p> + +<p> +A great number of crawfishes had arrived from Germany that morning in cases and +hampers, and the market was also crowded with river fish from Holland and +England. Several men were unpacking shiny carp from the Rhine, lustrous with +ruddy metallic hues, their scales resembling bronzed <i>cloisonne</i> enamel; +and others were busy with huge pike, the cruel iron-grey brigands of the +waters, who ravenously protruded their savage jaws; or with magnificent +dark-hued with verdigris. And amidst these suggestions of copper, iron, and +bronze, the gudgeon and perch, the trout, the bleak, and the flat-fish taken in +sweep-nets showed brightly white, the steel-blue tints of their backs gradually +toning down to the soft transparency of their bellies. However, it was the fat +snowy-white barbel that supplied the liveliest brightness in this gigantic +collection of still life. +</p> + +<p> +Bags of young carp were being gently emptied into the basins. The fish spun +round, then remained motionless for a moment, and at last shot away and +disappeared. Little eels were turned out of their hampers in a mass, and fell +to the bottom of the compartments like tangled knots of snakes; while the +larger ones—those whose bodies were about as thick as a child’s +arm—raised their heads and slipped of their own accord into the water +with the supple motion of serpents gliding into the concealment of a thicket. +And meantime the other fish, whose death agony had been lasting all the morning +as they lay on the soiled osiers of the basket-trays, slowly expired amidst all +the uproar of the auctions, opening their mouths as though to inhale the +moisture of the air, with great silent gasps, renewed every few seconds. +</p> + +<p> +However, Monsieur Verlaque brought Florent back to the salt water fish. He took +him all over the place and gave him the minutest particulars about everything. +Round the nine salesmen’s desks ranged along three sides of the pavilion +there was now a dense crowd of surging, swaying heads, above which appeared the +clerks, perched upon high chairs and making entries in their ledgers. +</p> + +<p> +“Are all these clerks employed by the salesmen?” asked Florent. +</p> + +<p> +By way of reply Monsieur Verlaque made a detour along the outside footway, led +him into the enclosure of one of the auctions, and then explained the working +of the various departments of the big yellow office, which smelt strongly of +fish and was stained all over by drippings and splashings from the hampers. In +a little glazed compartment up above, the collector of the municipal dues took +note of the prices realised by the different lots of fish. Lower down, seated +upon high chairs and with their wrists resting upon little desks, were two +female clerks, who kept account of the business on behalf of the salesmen. At +each end of the stone table in front of the office was a crier who brought the +basket-trays forward in turn, and in a bawling voice announced what each lot +consisted of; while above him the female clerk, pen in hand, waited to register +the price at which the lots were knocked down. And outside the enclosure, shut +up in another little office of yellow wood, Monsieur Verlaque showed Florent +the cashier, a fat old woman, who was ranging coppers and five-franc pieces in +piles. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a double control, you see,” said Monsieur Verlaque; +“the control of the Prefecture of the Seine and that of the Prefecture of +Police. The latter, which licenses the salesmen, claims to have the right of +supervision over them; and the municipality asserts its right to be represented +at the transactions as they are subject to taxation.” +</p> + +<p> +He went on expatiating at length in his faint cold voice respecting the rival +claims of the two Prefectures. Florent, however, was paying but little heed, +his attention being concentrated on a female clerk sitting on one of the high +chairs just in front of him. She was a tall, dark woman of thirty, with big +black eyes and an easy calmness of manner, and she wrote with outstretched +fingers like a girl who had been taught the regulation method of the art. +</p> + +<p> +However, Florent’s attention was diverted by the yelping of the crier, +who was just offering a magnificent turbot for sale. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve a bid of thirty francs! Thirty francs, now; thirty +francs!” +</p> + +<p> +He repeated these words in all sorts of keys, running up and down a strange +scale of notes full of sudden changes. Humpbacked and with his face twisted +askew, and his hair rough and disorderly, he wore a great blue apron with a +bib; and with flaming eyes and outstretched arms he cried vociferously: +“Thirty-one! thirty-two! thirty-three! Thirty-three francs fifty +centimes! thirty-three fifty!” +</p> + +<p> +Then he paused to take breath, turning the basket-tray and pushing it farther +upon the table. The fish-wives bent forward and gently touched the turbot with +their finger-tips. Then the crier began again with renewed energy, hurling his +figures towards the buyers with a wave of the hand and catching the slightest +indication of a fresh bid—the raising of a finger, a twist of the +eyebrows, a pouting of the lips, a wink, and all with such rapidity and such a +ceaseless jumble of words that Florent, utterly unable to follow him, felt +quite disconcerted when, in a sing-song voice like that of a priest intoning +the final words of a versicle, he chanted: “Forty-two! forty-two! The +turbot goes for forty-two francs.” +</p> + +<p> +It was the beautiful Norman who had made the last bid. Florent recognised her +as she stood in the line of fish-wives crowding against the iron rails which +surrounded the enclosure. The morning was fresh and sharp, and there was a row +of tippets above the display of big white aprons, covering the prominent bosoms +and stomachs and sturdy shoulders. With high-set chignon set off with curls, +and white and dainty skin, the beautiful Norman flaunted her lace bow amidst +tangled shocks of hair covered with dirty kerchiefs, red noses eloquent of +drink, sneering mouths, and battered faces suggestive of old pots. And she also +recognised Madame Quenu’s cousin, and was so surprised to see him there +that she began gossiping to her neighbours about him. +</p> + +<p> +The uproar of voices had become so great that Monsieur Verlaque renounced all +further attempt to explain matters to Florent. On the footway close by, men +were calling out the larger fish with prolonged shouts, which sounded as though +they came from gigantic speaking-trumpets; and there was one individual who +roared “Mussels! Mussels!” in such a hoarse, cracked, clamorous +voice that the very roofs of the market shook. Some sacks of mussels were +turned upside down, and their contents poured into hampers, while others were +emptied with shovels. And there was a ceaseless procession of basket-trays +containing skate, soles, mackerel, conger-eels, and salmon, carried backwards +and forwards amidst the ever-increasing cackle and pushing of the fish-women as +they crowded against the iron rails which creaked with their pressure. The +humpbacked crier, now fairly on the job, waved his skinny arms in the air and +protruded his jaws. Presently, seemingly lashed into a state of frenzy by the +flood of figures that spurted from his lips, he sprang upon a stool, where, +with his mouth twisted spasmodically and his hair streaming behind him, he +could force nothing more than unintelligible hisses from his parched throat. +And in the meantime, up above, the collector of municipal dues, a little old +man, muffled in a collar of imitation astrachan, remained with nothing but his +nose showing under his black velvet skullcap. And the tall, dark-complexioned +female clerk, with eyes shining calmly in her face, which had been slightly +reddened by the cold, sat on her high wooden chair, quietly writing, apparently +unruffled by the continuous rattle which came from the hunchback below her. +</p> + +<p> +“That fellow Logre is wonderful,” muttered Monsieur Verlaque with a +smile. “He is the best crier in the markets. I believe he could make +people buy boot soles in the belief they were fish!” +</p> + +<p> +Then he and Florent went back into the pavilion. As they again passed the spot +where the fresh water fish was being sold by auction, and where the bidding +seemed much quieter, Monsieur Verlaque explained that French river fishing was +in a bad way.[*] The crier here, a fair, sorry-looking fellow, who scarcely +moved his arms, was disposing of some lots of eels and crawfish in a monotonous +voice, while the assistants fished fresh supplies out of the stone basins with +their short-handled nets. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] M. Zola refers, of course, to the earlier years of the Second Empire. Under +the present republican Government, which has largely fostered fish culture, +matters have considerably improved.—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +However, the crowd round the salesmen’s desks was still increasing. +Monsieur Verlaque played his part as Florent’s instructor in the most +conscientious manner, clearing the way by means of his elbows, and guiding his +successor through the busiest parts. The upper-class retail dealers were there, +quietly waiting for some of the finer fish, or loading the porters with their +purchases of turbot, tunny, and salmon. The street-hawkers who had clubbed +together to buy lots of herrings and small flat-fish were dividing them on the +pavement. There were also some people of the smaller middle class, from distant +parts of the city, who had come down at four o’clock in the morning to +buy a really fresh fish, and had ended by allowing some enormous lot, costing +from forty to fifty francs, to be knocked down to them, with the result that +they would be obliged to spend the whole day in getting their friends and +acquaintances to take the surplus off their hands. Every now and then some +violent pushing would force a gap through part of the crowd. A fish-wife, who +had got tightly jammed, freed herself, shaking her fists and pouring out a +torrent of abuse. Then a compact mass of people again collected, and Florent, +almost suffocated, declared that he had seen quite enough, and understood all +that was necessary. +</p> + +<p> +As Monsieur Verlaque was helping him to extricate himself from the crowd, they +found themselves face to face with the handsome Norman. She remained +stock-still in front of them, and with her queenly air inquired: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, is it quite settled? You are going to desert us, Monsieur +Verlaque?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” replied the little man; “I am going to take a +rest in the country, at Clamart. The smell of the fish is bad for me, it seems. +Here, this is the gentleman who is going to take my place.” +</p> + +<p> +So speaking he turned round to introduce Florent to her. The handsome Norman +almost choked; however, as Florent went off, he fancied he could hear her +whisper to her neighbours, with a laugh: “Well, we shall have some fine +fun now, see if we don’t!” +</p> + +<p> +The fish-wives had begun to set out their stalls. From all the taps at the +corners of the marble slabs water was gushing freely; and there was a rustling +sound all round, like the plashing of rain, a streaming of stiff jets of water +hissing and spurting. And then, from the lower side of the sloping slabs, great +drops fell with a softened murmur, splashing on the flagstones where a mass of +tiny streams flowed along here and there, turning holes and depressions into +miniature lakes, and afterwards gliding in a thousand rills down the slope +towards the Rue Rambuteau. A moist haze ascended, a sort of rainy dust, +bringing fresh whiffs of air to Florent’s face, whiffs of that salt, +pungent sea breeze which he remembered so well; while in such fish as was +already laid out he once more beheld the rosy nacres, gleaming corals, and +milky pearls, all the rippling colour and glaucous pallidity of the ocean +world. +</p> + +<p> +That first morning left him much in doubt; indeed, he regretted that he had +yielded to Lisa’s insistence. Ever since his escape from the greasy +drowsiness of the kitchen he had been accusing himself of base weakness with +such violence that tears had almost risen in his eyes. But he did not dare to +go back on his word. He was a little afraid of Lisa, and could see the curl of +her lips and the look of mute reproach upon her handsome face. He felt that she +was too serious a woman to be trifled with. However, Gavard happily inspired +him with a consoling thought. On the evening of the day on which Monsieur +Verlaque had conducted him through the auction sales, Gavard took him aside and +told him, with a good deal of hesitation, that “the poor devil” was +not at all well off. And after various remarks about the scoundrelly Government +which ground the life out of its servants without allowing them even the means +to die in comfort, he ended by hinting that it would be charitable on +Florent’s part to surrender a part of his salary to the old inspector. +Florent welcomed the suggestion with delight. It was only right, he considered, +for he looked upon himself simply as Monsieur Verlaque’s temporary +substitute; and besides, he himself really required nothing, as he boarded and +lodged with his brother. Gavard added that he thought if Florent gave up fifty +francs out of the hundred and fifty which he would receive monthly, the +arrangement would be everything that could be desired; and, lowering his voice, +he added that it would not be for long, for the poor fellow was consumptive to +his very bones. Finally it was settled that Florent should see Monsieur +Verlaque’s wife, and arrange matters with her, to avoid any possibility +of hurting the old man’s feelings. +</p> + +<p> +The thought of this kindly action afforded Florent great relief, and he now +accepted his duties with the object of doing good, thus continuing to play the +part which he had been fulfilling all his life. However, he made the poultry +dealer promise that he would not speak of the matter to anyone; and as Gavard +also felt a vague fear of Lisa, he kept the secret, which was really very +meritorious in him. +</p> + +<p> +And now the whole pork shop seemed happy. Handsome Lisa manifested the greatest +friendliness towards her brother-in-law. She took care that he went to bed +early, so as to be able to rise in good time; she kept his breakfast hot for +him; and she no longer felt ashamed at being seen talking to him on the +footway, now that he wore a laced cap. Quenu, quite delighted by all these good +signs, sat down to table in the evening between his wife and brother with a +lighter heart than ever. They often lingered over dinner till nine +o’clock, leaving the shop in Augustine’s charge, and indulging in a +leisurely digestion interspersed with gossip about the neighbourhood, and the +dogmatic opinions of Lisa on political topics; Florent also had to relate how +matters had gone in the fish market that day. He gradually grew less frigid, +and began to taste the happiness of a well-regulated existence. There was a +well-to-do comfort and trimness about the light yellowish dining room which had +a softening influence upon him as soon as he crossed its threshold. Handsome +Lisa’s kindly attentions wrapped him, as it were, in cotton-wool; and +mutual esteem and concord reigned paramount. +</p> + +<p> +Gavard, however, considered the Quenu-Gradelles’ home to be too drowsy. +He forgave Lisa her weakness for the Emperor, because, he said, one ought never +to discuss politics with women, and beautiful Madame Quenu was, after all, a +very worthy person, who managed her business admirably. Nevertheless, he much +preferred to spend his evenings at Monsieur Lebigre’s, where he met a +group of friends who shared his own opinions. Thus when Florent was appointed +to the inspectorship of the fish market, Gavard began to lead him astray, +taking him off for hours, and prompting him to lead a bachelor’s life now +that he had obtained a berth. +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Lebigre was the proprietor of a very fine establishment, fitted up in +the modern luxurious style. Occupying the right-hand corner of the Rue +Pirouette, and looking on to the Rue Rambuteau, it formed, with its four small +Norwegian pines in green-painted tubs flanking the doorway, a worthy pendant to +the big pork shop of the Quenu-Gradelles. Through the clear glass windows you +could see the interior, which was decorated with festoons of foliage, vine +branches, and grapes, painted on a soft green ground. The floor was tiled with +large black and white squares. At the far end was the yawning cellar entrance, +above which rose a spiral staircase hung with red drapery, and leading to the +billiard-room on the first floor. The counter or “bar” on the right +looked especially rich, and glittered like polished silver. Its zinc-work, +hanging with a broad bulging border over the sub-structure of white and red +marble, edged it with a rippling sheet of metal as if it were some high altar +laden with embroidery. At one end, over a gas stove, stood porcelain pots, +decorated with circles of brass, and containing punch and hot wine. At the +other extremity was a tall and richly sculptured marble fountain, from which a +fine stream of water, so steady and continuous that it looked as though it were +motionless, flowed into a basin. In the centre, edged on three sides by the +sloping zinc surface of the counter, was a second basin for rinsing and cooling +purposes, where quart bottles of draught wine, partially empty, reared their +greenish necks. Then on the counter, to the right and left of this central +basin, were batches of glasses symmetrically arranged: little glasses for +brandy, thick tumblers for draught wine, cup glasses for brandied fruits, +glasses for absinthe, glass mugs for beer, and tall goblets, all turned upside +down and reflecting the glitter of the counter. On the left, moreover, was a +metal urn, serving as a receptacle for gratuities; whilst a similar one on the +right bristled with a fan-like arrangement of coffee spoons. +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Lebigre was generally to be found enthroned behind his counter upon a +seat covered with buttoned crimson leather. Within easy reach of his hand were +the liqueurs in cut-glass decanters protruding from the compartments of a +stand. His round back rested against a huge mirror which completely filled the +panel behind him; across it ran two glass shelves supporting an array of jars +and bottles. Upon one of them the glass jars of preserved fruits, cherries, +plums, and peaches, stood out darkly; while on the other, between symmetrically +arranged packets of finger biscuits, were bright flasks of soft green and red +and yellow glass, suggesting strange mysterious liqueurs, or floral extracts of +exquisite limpidity. Standing on the glass shelf in the white glow of the +mirror, these flasks, flashing as if on fire, seemed to be suspended in the +air. +</p> + +<p> +To give his premises the appearance of a café, Monsieur Lebigre had placed two +small tables of bronzed iron and four chairs against the wall, in front of the +counter. A chandelier with five lights and frosted globes hung down from the +ceiling. On the left was a round gilt timepiece, above a <i>tourniquet</i>[*] +fixed to the wall. Then at the far end came the private “cabinet,” +a corner of the shop shut off by a partition glazed with frosted glass of a +small square pattern. In the daytime this little room received a dim light from +a window that looked on to the Rue Pirouette; and in the evening, a gas jet +burnt over the two tables painted to resemble marble. It was there that Gavard +and his political friends met each evening after dinner. They looked upon +themselves as being quite at home there, and had prevailed on the landlord to +reserve the place for them. When Monsieur Lebigre had closed the door of the +glazed partition, they knew themselves to be so safely screened from intrusion +that they spoke quite unreservedly of the great “sweep out” which +they were fond of discussing. No unprivileged customer would have dared to +enter. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] This is a kind of dial turning on a pivot, and usually enclosed in a brass +frame, from which radiate a few small handles or spokes. Round the face of the +dial—usually of paper—are various numerals, and between the face +and its glass covering is a small marble or wooden ball. The appliance is used +in lieu of dice or coins when two or more customers are “tossing” +for drinks. Each in turn sends the dial spinning round, and wins or loses +according to the numeral against which the ball rests when the dial stops. As I +can find no English name for the appliance, I have thought it best to describe +it.—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +On the first day that Gavard took Florent off he gave him some particulars of +Monsieur Lebigre. He was a good fellow, he said, who sometimes came to drink +his coffee with them; and, as he had said one day that he had fought in +‘48, no one felt the least constraint in his presence. He spoke but +little, and seemed rather thick-headed. As the gentlemen passed him on their +way to the private room they grasped his hand in silence across the glasses and +bottles. By his side on the crimson leather seat behind the counter there was +generally a fair little woman, whom he had engaged as counter assistant in +addition to the white-aproned waiter who attended to the tables and the +billiard-room. The young woman’s name was Rose, and she seemed a very +gentle and submissive being. Gavard, with a wink of his eye, told Florent that +he fancied Lebigre had a weakness for her. It was she, by the way, who waited +upon the friends in the private room, coming and going, with her happy, humble +air, amidst the stormiest political discussions. +</p> + +<p> +Upon the day on which the poultry dealer took Florent to Lebigre’s to +present him to his friends, the only person whom the pair found in the little +room when they entered it was a man of some fifty years of age, of a mild and +thoughtful appearance. He wore a rather shabby-looking hat and a long +chestnut-coloured overcoat, and sat, with his chin resting on the ivory knob of +a thick cane, in front of a glass mug full of beer. His mouth was so completely +concealed by a vigorous growth of beard that his face had a dumb, lipless +appearance. +</p> + +<p> +“How are you, Robine?” exclaimed Gavard. +</p> + +<p> +Robine silently thrust out his hand, without making any reply, though his eyes +softened into a slight smile of welcome. Then he let his chin drop on to the +knob of his cane again, and looked at Florent over his beer. Florent had made +Gavard swear to keep his story a secret for fear of some dangerous +indiscretion; and he was not displeased to observe a touch of distrust in the +discreet demeanour of the gentleman with the heavy beard. However, he was +really mistaken in this, for Robine never talked more than he did now. He was +always the first to arrive, just as the clock struck eight; and he always sat +in the same corner, never letting go his hold of his cane, and never taking off +either his hat or his overcoat. No one had ever seen him without his hat upon +his head. He remained there listening to the talk of the others till midnight, +taking four hours to empty his mug of beer, and gazing successively at the +different speakers as though he heard them with his eyes. When Florent +afterwards questioned Gavard about Robine, the poultry dealer spoke of the +latter as though he held him in high esteem. Robine, he asserted, was an +extremely clever and able man, and, though he was unable to say exactly where +he had given proof of his hostility to the established order of things, he +declared that he was one of the most dreaded of the Government’s +opponents. He lived in the Rue Saint Denis, in rooms to which no one as a rule +could gain admission. The poultry dealer, however, asserted that he himself had +once been in them. The wax floors, he said, were protected by strips of green +linen; and there were covers over the furniture, and an alabaster timepiece +with columns. He had caught a glimpse of the back of a lady, who was just +disappearing through one doorway as he was entering by another, and had taken +her to be Madame Robine. She appeared to be an old lady of very genteel +appearance, with her hair arranged in corkscrew curls; but of this he could not +be quite certain. No one knew why they had taken up their abode amidst all the +uproar of a business neighbourhood; for the husband did nothing at all, +spending his days no one knew how and living on no one knew what, though he +made his appearance every evening as though he were tired but delighted with +some excursion into the highest regions of politics. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, have you read the speech from the throne?” asked Gavard, +taking up a newspaper that was lying on the table. +</p> + +<p> +Robine shrugged his shoulders. Just at that moment, however, the door of the +glazed partition clattered noisily, and a hunchback made his appearance. +Florent at once recognised the deformed crier of the fish market, though his +hands were now washed and he was neatly dressed, with his neck encircled by a +great red muffler, one end of which hung down over his hump like the skirt of a +Venetian cloak. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, here’s Logre!” exclaimed the poultry dealer. “Now +we shall hear what he thinks about the speech from the throne.” +</p> + +<p> +Logre, however, was apparently furious. To begin with he almost broke the pegs +off in hanging up his hat and muffler. Then he threw himself violently into a +chair, and brought his fist down on the table, while tossing away the +newspaper. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think I read their fearful lies?” he cried. +</p> + +<p> +Then he gave vent to the anger raging within him. “Did ever anyone +hear,” he cried, “of masters making such fools of their people? For +two whole hours I’ve been waiting for my pay! There were ten of us in the +office kicking our heels there. Then at last Monsieur Manoury arrived in a cab. +Where he had come from I don’t know, and don’t care, but I’m +quite sure it wasn’t any respectable place. Those salesmen are all a +parcel of thieves and libertines! And then, too, the hog actually gave me all +my money in small change!” +</p> + +<p> +Robine expressed his sympathy with Logre by the slight movement of his eyelids. +But suddenly the hunchback bethought him of a victim upon whom to pour out his +wrath. “Rose! Rose!” he cried, stretching his head out of the +little room. +</p> + +<p> +The young woman quickly responded to the call, trembling all over. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” shouted Logre, “what do you stand staring at me like +that for? Much good that’ll do! You saw me come in, didn’t you? Why +haven’t you brought me my glass of black coffee, then?” +</p> + +<p> +Gavard ordered two similar glasses, and Rose made all haste to bring what was +required, while Logre glared sternly at the glasses and little sugar trays as +if studying them. When he had taken a drink he seemed to grow somewhat calmer. +</p> + +<p> +“But it’s Charvet who must be getting bored,” he said +presently. “He is waiting outside on the pavement for Clemence.” +</p> + +<p> +Charvet, however, now made his appearance, followed by Clemence. He was a tall, +scraggy young man, carefully shaved, with a skinny nose and thin lips. He lived +in the Rue Vavin, behind the Luxembourg, and called himself a professor. In +politics he was a disciple of Hébert.[*] He wore his hair very long, and the +collar and lapels of his threadbare frock-coat were broadly turned back. +Affecting the manner and speech of a member of the National Convention, he +would pour out such a flood of bitter words and make such a haughty display of +pedantic learning that he generally crushed his adversaries. Gavard was afraid +of him, though he would not confess it; still, in Charvet’s absence he +would say that he really went too far. Robine, for his part, expressed approval +of everything with his eyes. Logre sometimes opposed Charvet on the question of +salaries; but the other was really the autocrat of the coterie, having the +greatest fund of information and the most overbearing manner. For more than ten +years he and Clemence had lived together as man and wife, in accordance with a +previously arranged contract, the terms of which were strictly observed by both +parties to it. Florent looked at the young woman with some little surprise, but +at last he recollected where he had previously seen her. This was at the fish +auction. She was, indeed, none other than the tall dark female clerk whom he +had observed writing with outstretched fingers, after the manner of one who had +been carefully instructed in the art of holding a pen. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] Hébert, as the reader will remember, was the furious demagogue with the +foul tongue and poisoned pen who edited the <i>Père Duchesne</i> at the time of +the first French Revolution. We had a revival of his politics and his journal +in Paris during the Commune of 1871.—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +Rose made her appearance at the heels of the two newcomers. Without saying a +word she placed a mug of beer before Charvet and a tray before Clemence, who in +a leisurely way began to compound a glass of “grog,” pouring some +hot water over a slice of lemon, which she crushed with her spoon, and glancing +carefully at the decanter as she poured out some rum, so as not to add more of +it than a small liqueur glass could contain. +</p> + +<p> +Gavard now presented Florent to the company, but more especially to Charvet. He +introduced them to one another as professors, and very able men, who would be +sure to get on well together. But it was probable that he had already been +guilty of some indiscretion, for all the men at once shook hands with a tight +and somewhat masonic squeeze of each other’s fingers. Charvet, for his +part, showed himself almost amiable; and whether he and the others knew +anything of Florent’s antecedents, they at all events indulged in no +embarrassing allusions. +</p> + +<p> +“Did Manoury pay you in small change?” Logre asked Clemence. +</p> + +<p> +She answered affirmatively, and produced a roll of francs and another of +two-franc pieces, and unwrapped them. Charvet watched her, and his eyes +followed the rolls as she replaced them in her pocket, after counting their +contents and satisfying herself that they were correct. +</p> + +<p> +“We have our accounts to settle,” he said in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, we’ll settle up to-night,” the young woman replied. +“But we are about even, I should think. I’ve breakfasted with you +four times, haven’t I? But I lent you a hundred sous last week, you +know.” +</p> + +<p> +Florent, surprised at hearing this, discreetly turned his head away. Then +Clemence slipped the last roll of silver into her pocket, drank a little of her +grog, and, leaning against the glazed partition, quietly settled herself down +to listen to the men talking politics. Gavard had taken up the newspaper again, +and, in tones which he strove to render comic, was reading out some passages of +the speech from the throne which had been delivered that morning at the opening +of the Chambers. Charvet made fine sport of the official phraseology; there was +not a single line of it which he did not tear to pieces. One sentence afforded +especial amusement to them all. It was this: “We are confident, +gentlemen, that, leaning on your lights[*] and the conservative sentiments of +the country, we shall succeed in increasing the national prosperity day by +day.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] In the sense of illumination of mind. It has been necessary to give a +literal translation of this phrase to enable the reader to realise the point of +subsequent witticisms in which Clemence and Gavard indulge. —Translator. +</p> + +<p> +Logre rose up and repeated this sentence, and by speaking through his nose +succeeded fairly well in mimicking the Emperor’s drawling voice. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s lovely, that prosperity of his; why, everyone’s dying +of hunger!” said Charvet. +</p> + +<p> +“Trade is shocking,” asserted Gavard. +</p> + +<p> +“And what in the name of goodness is the meaning of anybody +‘leaning on lights’?” continued Clemence, who prided herself +upon literary culture. +</p> + +<p> +Robine himself even allowed a faint laugh to escape from the depths of his +beard. The discussion began to grow warm. The party fell foul of the Corps +Législatif, and spoke of it with great severity. Logre did not cease ranting, +and Florent found him the same as when he cried the fish at the +auctions—protruding his jaws and hurling his words forward with a wave of +the arm, whilst retaining the crouching attitude of a snarling dog. Indeed, he +talked politics in just the same furious manner as he offered a tray full of +soles for sale. +</p> + +<p> +Charvet, on the other hand, became quieter and colder amidst the smoke of the +pipes and the fumes of the gas which were now filling the little den; and his +voice assumed a dry incisive tone, sharp like a guillotine blade, while Robine +gently wagged his head without once removing his chin from the ivory knob of +his cane. However, some remark of Gavard’s led the conversation to the +subject of women. +</p> + +<p> +“Woman,” declared Charvet drily, “is the equal of man; and, +that being so, she ought not to inconvenience him in the management of his +life. Marriage is a partnership, in which everything should be halved. +Isn’t that so, Clemence?” +</p> + +<p> +“Clearly so,” replied the young woman, leaning back with her head +against the wall and gazing into the air. +</p> + +<p> +However, Florent now saw Lacaille, the costermonger, and Alexandre, the porter, +Claude Lantier’s friend, come into the little room. In the past these two +had long remained at the other table in the sanctum; they did not belong to the +same class as the others. By the help of politics, however, their chairs had +drawn nearer, and they had ended by forming part of the circle. Charvet, in +whose eyes they represented “the people,” did his best to +indoctrinate them with his advanced political theories, while Gavard played the +part of the shopkeeper free from all social prejudices by clinking glasses with +them. Alexandre was a cheerful, good-humoured giant, with the manner of a big +merry lad. Lacaille, on the other hand, was embittered; his hair was already +grizzling; and, bent and wearied by his ceaseless perambulations through the +streets of Paris, he would at times glance loweringly at the placid figure of +Robine, and his sound boots and heavy coat. +</p> + +<p> +That evening both Lacaille and Alexandre called for a liqueur glass of brandy, +and then the conversation was renewed with increased warmth and excitement, the +party being now quite complete. A little later, while the door of the cabinet +was left ajar, Florent caught sight of Mademoiselle Saget standing in front of +the counter. She had taken a bottle from under her apron, and was watching Rose +as the latter poured into it a large measureful of black-currant syrup and a +smaller one of brandy. Then the bottle disappeared under the apron again, and +Mademoiselle Saget, with her hands out of sight, remained talking in the bright +glow of the counter, face to face with the big mirror, in which the flasks and +bottles of liqueurs were reflected like rows of Venetian lanterns. In the +evening all the metal and glass of the establishment helped to illuminate it +with wonderful brilliancy. The old maid, standing there in her black skirts, +looked almost like some big strange insect amidst all the crude brightness. +Florent noticed that she was trying to inveigle Rose into a conversation, and +shrewdly suspected that she had caught sight of him through the half open +doorway. Since he had been on duty at the markets he had met her at almost +every step, loitering in one or another of the covered ways, and generally in +the company of Madame Lecœur and La Sarriette. He had noticed also that the +three women stealthily examined him, and seemed lost in amazement at seeing him +installed in the position of inspector. That evening, however, Rose was no +doubt loath to enter into conversation with the old maid, for the latter at +last turned round, apparently with the intention of approaching Monsieur +Lebigre, who was playing piquet with a customer at one of the bronzed tables. +Creeping quietly along, Mademoiselle Saget had at last managed to install +herself beside the partition of the cabinet, when she was observed by Gavard, +who detested her. +</p> + +<p> +“Shut the door, Florent!” he cried unceremoniously. “We +can’t even be by ourselves, it seems!” +</p> + +<p> +When midnight came and Lacaille went away he exchanged a few whispered words +with Monsieur Lebigre, and as the latter shook hands with him he slipped four +five-franc pieces into his palm, without anyone noticing it. +“That’ll make twenty-two francs that you’ll have to pay +to-morrow, remember,” he whispered in his ear. “The person who +lends the money won’t do it for less in future. Don’t forget, too, +that you owe three days’ truck hire. You must pay everything off.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Monsieur Lebigre wished the friends good night. He was very sleepy and +should sleep well, he said, with a yawn which revealed his big teeth, while +Rose gazed at him with an air of submissive humility. However, he gave her a +push, and told her to go and turn out the gas in the little room. +</p> + +<p> +On reaching the pavement, Gavard stumbled and nearly fell. And being in a +humorous vein, he thereupon exclaimed: “Confound it all! At any rate, I +don’t seem to be leaning on anybody’s lights.” +</p> + +<p> +This remark seemed to amuse the others, and the party broke up. A little later +Florent returned to Lebigre’s, and indeed he became quite attached to the +“cabinet,” finding a seductive charm in Robine’s +contemplative silence, Logre’s fiery outbursts, and Charvet’s cool +venom. When he went home, he did not at once retire to bed. He had grown very +fond of his attic, that girlish bedroom, where Augustine had left scraps of +ribbons, souvenirs, and other feminine trifles lying about. There still +remained some hair-pins on the mantelpiece, with gilt cardboard boxes of +buttons and lozenges, cutout pictures, and empty pomade pots that retained an +odour of jasmine. Then there were some reels of thread, needles, and a missal +lying by the side of a soiled Dream-book in the drawer of the rickety deal +table. A white summer dress with yellow spots hung forgotten from a nail; while +upon the board which served as a toilet-table a big stain behind the water-jug +showed where a bottle of bandoline had been overturned. The little chamber, +with its narrow iron bed, its two rush-bottomed chairs, and its faded grey +wallpaper, was instinct with innocent simplicity. The plain white curtains, the +childishness suggested by the cardboard boxes and the Dream-book, and the +clumsy coquetry which had stained the walls, all charmed Florent and brought +him back to dreams of youth. He would have preferred not to have known that +plain, wiry-haired Augustine, but to have been able to imagine that he was +occupying the room of a sister, some bright sweet girl of whose budding +womanhood every trifle around him spoke. +</p> + +<p> +Yet another pleasure which he took was to lean out of the garret window at +nighttime. In front of it was a narrow ledge of roof, enclosed by an iron +railing, and forming a sort of balcony, on which Augustine had grown a +pomegranate in a box. Since the nights had turned cold, Florent had brought the +pomegranate indoors and kept it by the foot of his bed till morning. He would +linger for a few minutes by the open window, inhaling deep draughts of the +sharp fresh air which was wafted up from the Seine, over the housetops of the +Rue de Rivoli. Below him the roofs of the markets spread confusedly in a grey +expanse, like slumbering lakes on whose surface the furtive reflection of a +pane of glass gleamed every now and then like a silvery ripple. Farther away +the roofs of the meat and poultry pavilions lay in deeper gloom, and became +mere masses of shadow barring the horizon. Florent delighted in the great +stretch of open sky in front of him, in that spreading expanse of the markets +which amidst all the narrow city streets brought him a dim vision of some strip +of sea coast, of the still grey waters of a bay scarce quivering from the roll +of the distant billows. He used to lose himself in dreams as he stood there; +each night he conjured up the vision of some fresh coast line. To return in +mind to the eight years of despair which he had spent away from France rendered +him both very sad and very happy. Then at last, shivering all over, he would +close the window. Often, as he stood in front of the fireplace taking off his +collar, the photograph of Auguste and Augustine would fill him with +disquietude. They seemed to be watching him as they stood there, hand in hand, +smiling faintly. +</p> + +<p> +Florent’s first few weeks at the fish market were very painful to him. +The Mehudins treated him with open hostility, which infected the whole market +with a spirit of opposition. The beautiful Norman intended to revenge herself +on the handsome Lisa, and the latter’s cousin seemed a victim ready to +hand. +</p> + +<p> +The Mehudins came from Rouen. Louise’s mother still related how she had +first arrived in Paris with a basket of eels. She had ever afterwards remained +in the fish trade. She had married a man employed in the Octroi service, who +had died leaving her with two little girls. It was she who by her full figure +and glowing freshness had won for herself in earlier days the nickname of +“the beautiful Norman,” which her eldest daughter had inherited. +Now five and sixty years of age, Madame Mehudin had become flabby and +shapeless, and the damp air of the fish market had rendered her voice rough and +hoarse, and given a bluish tinge to her skin. Sedentary life had made her +extremely bulky, and her head was thrown backwards by the exuberance of her +bosom. She had never been willing to renounce the fashions of her younger days, +but still wore the flowered gown, the yellow kerchief, and turban-like +head-gear of the classic fish-wife, besides retaining the latter’s loud +voice and rapidity of gesture as she stood with her hands on her hips, shouting +out the whole abusive vocabulary of her calling. +</p> + +<p> +She looked back regretfully to the old Marché des Innocents, which the new +central markets had supplanted. She would talk of the ancient rights of the +market “ladies,” and mingle stories of fisticuffs exchanged with +the police with reminiscences of the visits she had paid the Court in the time +of Charles X and Louis Philippe, dressed in silk, and carrying a bouquet of +flowers in her hand. Old Mother Mehudin, as she was now generally called, had +for a long time been the banner-bearer of the Sisterhood of the Virgin at St. +Leu. She would relate that in the processions in the church there she had worn +a dress and cap of tulle trimmed with satin ribbons, whilst holding aloft in +her puffy fingers the gilded staff of the richly-fringed silk standard on which +the figure of the Holy Mother was embroidered. +</p> + +<p> +According to the gossip of the neighbourhood, the old woman had made a fairly +substantial fortune, though the only signs of it were the massive gold +ornaments with which she loaded her neck and arms and bosom on important +occasions. Her two daughters got on badly together as they grew up. The younger +one, Claire, an idle, fair-complexioned girl, complained of the ill-treatment +which she received from her sister Louise, protesting, in her languid voice, +that she could never submit to be the other’s servant. As they would +certainly have ended by coming to blows, their mother separated them. She gave +her stall in the fish market to Louise, while Claire, whom the smell of the +skate and the herrings affected in the lungs, installed herself among the fresh +water fish. And from that time the old mother, although she pretended to have +retired from business altogether, would flit from one stall to the other, still +interfering in the selling of the fish, and causing her daughters continual +annoyance by the foul insolence with which she would at times speak to +customers. +</p> + +<p> +Claire was a fantastical creature, very gentle in her manner, and yet +continually at loggerheads with others. People said that she invariably +followed her own whimsical inclinations. In spite of her dreamy, girlish face +she was imbued with a nature of silent firmness, a spirit of independence which +prompted her to live apart; she never took things as other people did, but +would one day evince perfect fairness, and the next day arrant injustice. She +would sometimes throw the market into confusion by suddenly increasing or +lowering the prices at her stall, without anyone being able to guess her reason +for doing so. She herself would refuse to explain her motive. By the time she +reached her thirtieth year, her delicate physique and fine skin, which the +water of the tanks seemed to keep continually fresh and soft, her small, +faintly-marked face and lissome limbs would probably become heavy, coarse, and +flabby, till she would look like some faded saint that had stepped from a +stained-glass window into the degrading sphere of the markets. At twenty-two, +however, Claire, in the midst of her carp and eels, was, to use Claude +Lantier’s expression, a Murillo. A Murillo, that is, whose hair was often +in disorder, who wore heavy shoes and clumsily cut dresses, which left her +without any figure. But she was free from all coquetry, and she assumed an air +of scornful contempt when Louise, displaying her bows and ribbons, chaffed her +about her clumsily knotted neckerchiefs. Moreover, she was virtuous; it was +said that the son of a rich shopkeeper in the neighbourhood had gone abroad in +despair at having failed to induce her to listen to his suit. +</p> + +<p> +Louise, the beautiful Norman, was of a different nature. She had been engaged +to be married to a clerk in the corn market; but a sack of flour falling upon +the young man had broken his back and killed him. Not very long afterwards +Louise had given birth to a boy. In the Mehudins’ circle of acquaintance +she was looked upon as a widow; and the old fish-wife in conversation would +occasionally refer to the time when her son-in-law was alive. +</p> + +<p> +The Mehudins were a power in the markets. When Monsieur Verlaque had finished +instructing Florent in his new duties, he advised him to conciliate certain of +the stall-holders, if he wished his life to be endurable; and he even carried +his sympathy so far as to put him in possession of the little secrets of the +office, such as the various little breaches of rule that it was necessary to +wink at, and those at which he would have to feign stern displeasure; and also +the circumstances under which he might accept a small present. A market +inspector is at once a constable and a magistrate; he has to maintain proper +order and cleanliness, and settle in a conciliatory spirit all disputes between +buyers and sellers. Florent, who was of a weak disposition put on an artificial +sternness when he was obliged to exercise his authority, and generally +over-acted his part. Moreover, his gloomy, pariah-like face and bitterness of +spirit, the result of long suffering, were against him. +</p> + +<p> +The beautiful Norman’s idea was to involve him in some quarrel or other. +She had sworn that he would not keep his berth a fortnight. “That fat +Lisa’s much mistaken,” said she one morning on meeting Madame +Lecœur, “if she thinks that she’s going to put people over us. We +don’t want such ugly wretches here. That sweetheart of hers is a perfect +fright!” +</p> + +<p> +After the auctions, when Florent commenced his round of inspection, strolling +slowly through the dripping alleys, he could plainly see the beautiful Norman +watching him with an impudent smile on her face. Her stall, which was in the +second row on the left, near the fresh water fish department faced the Rue +Rambuteau. She would turn round, however, and never take her eyes off her +victim whilst making fun of him with her neighbours. And when he passed in +front of her, slowly examining the slabs, she feigned hilarious merriment, +slapped her fish with her hand, and turned her jets of water on at full stream, +flooding the pathway. Nevertheless Florent remained perfectly calm. +</p> + +<p> +At last, one morning as was bound to happen, war broke out. As Florent reached +La Normande’s stall that day an unbearable stench assailed his nostrils. +On the marble slab, in addition to part of a magnificent salmon, showing its +soft roseate flesh, there lay some turbots of creamy whiteness, a few +conger-eels pierced with black pins to mark their divisions, several pairs of +soles, and some bass and red mullet—in fact, quite a display of fresh +fish. But in the midst of it, amongst all these fish whose eyes still gleamed +and whose gills were of a bright crimson, there lay a huge skate of a ruddy +tinge, splotched with dark stains—superb, indeed, with all its strange +colourings. Unfortunately, it was rotten; its tail was falling off and the ribs +of its fins were breaking through the skin. +</p> + +<p> +“You must throw that skate away,” said Florent as he came up. +</p> + +<p> +The beautiful Norman broke into a slight laugh. Florent raised his eyes and saw +her standing before him, with her back against the bronze lamp post which +lighted the stalls in her division. She had mounted upon a box to keep her feet +out of the damp, and appeared very tall as he glanced at her. She looked also +handsomer than usual, with her hair arranged in little curls, her sly face +slightly bent, her lips compressed, and her hands showing somewhat too rosily +against her big white apron. Florent had never before seen her decked with so +much jewellery. She had long pendants in her ears, a chain round her neck, a +brooch in her dress body, and quite a collection of rings on two fingers of her +left hand and one of her right. +</p> + +<p> +As she still continued to look slyly at Florent, without making any reply, the +latter continued: “Do you hear? You must remove that skate.” +</p> + +<p> +He had not yet noticed the presence of old Madame Mehudin, who sat all of a +heap on a chair in a corner. She now got up, however, and, with her fists +resting on the marble slap, insolently exclaimed: “Dear me! And why is +she to throw her skate away? You won’t pay her for it, I’ll +bet!” +</p> + +<p> +Florent immediately understood the position. The women at the other stalls +began to titter, and he felt that he was surrounded by covert rebellion, which +a word might cause to blaze forth. He therefore restrained himself, and in +person drew the refuse-pail from under the stall and dropped the skate into it. +Old Madame Mehudin had already stuck her hands on her hips, while the beautiful +Norman, who had not spoken a word, burst into another malicious laugh as +Florent strode sternly away amidst a chorus of jeers, which he pretended not to +hear. +</p> + +<p> +Each day now some new trick was played upon him, and he was obliged to walk +through the market alleys as warily as though he were in a hostile country. He +was splashed with water from the sponges employed to cleanse the slabs; he +stumbled and almost fell over slippery refuse intentionally spread in his way; +and even the porters contrived to run their baskets against the nape of his +neck. One day, moreover, when two of the fish-wives were quarrelling, and he +hastened up to prevent them coming to blows, he was obliged to duck in order to +escape being slapped on either cheek by a shower of little dabs which passed +over his head. There was a general outburst of laughter on this occasion, and +Florent always believed that the two fish-wives were in league with the +Mehudins. However, his old-time experiences as a teacher had endowed him with +angelic patience, and he was able to maintain a magisterial coolness of manner +even when anger was hotly rising within him, and his whole being quivered with +a sense of humiliation. Still, the young scamps of the Rue de l’Estrapade +had never manifested the savagery of these fish-wives, the cruel tenacity of +these huge females, whose massive figures heaved and shook with a giant-like +joy whenever he fell into any trap. They stared him out of countenance with +their red faces; and in the coarse tones of their voices and the impudent +gesture of their hands he could read volumes of filthy abuse levelled at +himself. Gavard would have been quite in his element amidst all these +petticoats, and would have freely cuffed them all round; but Florent, who had +always been afraid of women, gradually felt overwhelmed as by a sort of +nightmare in which giant women, buxom beyond all imagination, danced +threateningly around him, shouting at him in hoarse voices and brandishing bare +arms, as massive as any prize-fighter’s. +</p> + +<p> +Amongst this hoard of females, however, Florent had one friend. Claire +unhesitatingly declared that the new inspector was a very good fellow. When he +passed in front of her, pursued by the coarse abuse of the others, she gave him +a pleasant smile, sitting nonchalantly behind her stall, with unruly errant +locks of pale hair straying over her neck and her brow, and the bodice of her +dress pinned all askew. He also often saw her dipping her hands into her tanks, +transferring the fish from one compartment to another, and amusing herself by +turning on the brass taps, shaped like little dolphins with open mouths, from +which the water poured in streamlets. Amidst the rustling sound of the water +she had some of the quivering grace of a girl who has just been bathing and has +hurriedly slipped on her clothes. +</p> + +<p> +One morning she was particularly amiable. She called the inspector to her to +show him a huge eel which had been the wonder of the market when exhibited at +the auction. She opened the grating, which she had previously closed over the +basin in whose depths the eel seemed to be lying sound asleep. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a moment,” she said, “and I’ll show it to +you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she gently slipped her bare arm into the water; it was not a very plump +arm, and its veins showed softly blue beneath its satiny skin. As soon as the +eel felt her touch, it rapidly twisted round, and seemed to fill the narrow +trough with its glistening greenish coils. And directly it had settled down to +rest again Claire once more stirred it with her fingertips. +</p> + +<p> +“It is an enormous creature,” Florent felt bound to say. “I +have rarely seen such a fine one.” +</p> + +<p> +Claire thereupon confessed to him that she had at first been frightened of +eels; but now she had learned how to tighten her grip so that they could not +slip away. From another compartment she took a smaller one, which began to +wriggle both with head and tail, as she held it about the middle in her closed +fist. This made her laugh. She let it go, then seized another and another, +scouring the basin and stirring up the whole heap of snaky-looking creatures +with her slim fingers. +</p> + +<p> +Afterwards she began to speak of the slackness of trade. The hawkers on the +foot-pavement of the covered way did the regular saleswomen a great deal of +injury, she said. Meantime her bare arm, which she had not wiped, was +glistening and dripping with water. Big drops trickled from each finger. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” she exclaimed suddenly, “I must show you my carp, +too!” +</p> + +<p> +She now removed another grating, and, using both hands, lifted out a large +carp, which began to flap its tail and gasp. It was too big to be held +conveniently, so she sought another one. This was smaller, and she could hold +it with one hand, but the latter was forced slightly open by the panting of the +sides each time that the fish gasped. To amuse herself it occurred to Claire to +pop the tip of her thumb into the carp’s mouth whilst it was dilated. +“It won’t bite,” said she with her gentle laugh; +“it’s not spiteful. No more are the crawfishes; I’m not the +least afraid of them.” +</p> + +<p> +She plunged her arm into the water again, and from a compartment full of a +confused crawling mass brought up a crawfish that had caught her little finger +in its claws. She gave the creature a shake, but it no doubt gripped her too +tightly, for she turned very red, and snapped off its claw with a quick, angry +gesture, though still continuing to smile. +</p> + +<p> +“By the way,” she continued quickly, to conceal her emotion, +“I wouldn’t trust myself with a pike; he’d cut off my fingers +like a knife.” +</p> + +<p> +She thereupon showed him some big pike arranged in order of size upon clean +scoured shelves, beside some bronze-hued tench and little heaps of gudgeon. Her +hands were now quite slimy with handling the carp, and as she stood there in +the dampness rising from the tanks, she held them outstretched over the +dripping fish on the stall. She seemed enveloped by an odour of spawn, that +heavy scent which rises from among the reeds and water-lilies when the fish, +languid in the sunlight, discharge their eggs. Then she wiped her hands on her +apron, still smiling the placid smile of a girl who knew nothing of passion in +that quivering atmosphere of the frigid loves of the river. +</p> + +<p> +The kindliness which Claire showed to Florent was but a slight consolation to +him. By stopping to talk to the girl he only drew upon himself still coarser +jeers from the other stallkeepers. Claire shrugged her shoulders, and said that +her mother was an old jade, and her sister a worthless creature. The injustice +of the market folk towards the new inspector filled her with indignation. The +war between them, however, grew more bitter every day. Florent had serious +thoughts of resigning his post; indeed, he would not have retained it for +another twenty-four hours if he had not been afraid that Lisa might imagine him +to be a coward. He was frightened of what she might say and what she might +think. She was naturally well aware of the contest which was going on between +the fish-wives and their inspector; for the whole echoing market resounded with +it, and the entire neighbourhood discussed each fresh incident with endless +comments. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, well,” Lisa would often say in the evening, after dinner, +“I’d soon bring them to reason if I had anything to do with them! +Why, they are a lot of dirty jades that I wouldn’t touch with the tip of +my finger! That Normande is the lowest of the low! I’d soon crush her, +that I would! You should really use your authority, Florent. You are wrong to +behave as you do. Put your foot down, and they’ll all come to their +senses very quickly, you’ll see.” +</p> + +<p> +A terrible climax was presently reached. One morning the servant of Madame +Taboureau, the baker, came to the market to buy a brill; and the beautiful +Norman, having noticed her lingering near her stall for several minutes, began +to make overtures to her in a coaxing way: “Come and see me; I’ll +suit you,” she said. “Would you like a pair of soles, or a fine +turbot?” +</p> + +<p> +Then as the servant at last came up, and sniffed at a brill with that +dissatisfied pout which buyers assume in the hope of getting what they want at +a lower price, La Normande continued: +</p> + +<p> +“Just feel the weight of that, now,” and so saying she laid the +brill, wrapped in a sheet of thick yellow paper, on the woman’s open +palm. +</p> + +<p> +The servant, a mournful little woman from Auvergne, felt the weight of the +brill, and examined its gills, still pouting, and saying not a word. +</p> + +<p> +“And how much do you want for it?” she asked presently, in a +reluctant tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Fifteen francs,” replied La Normande. +</p> + +<p> +At this the servant hastily laid the brill on the stall again, and seemed +anxious to hurry away, but the other detained her. “Wait a moment,” +said she. “What do you offer?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, I can’t take it. It is much too dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, now, make me an offer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, will you take eight francs?” +</p> + +<p> +Old Madame Mehudin, who was there, suddenly seemed to wake up, and broke out +into a contemptuous laugh. Did people think that she and her daughter stole the +fish they sold? “Eight francs for a brill that size!” she +exclaimed. “You’ll be wanting one for nothing next, to use as a +cooling plaster!” +</p> + +<p> +Meantime La Normande turned her head away, as though greatly offended. However, +the servant came back twice and offered nine francs; and finally she increased +her bid to ten. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, come on, give me your money!” cried the fish-girl, +seeing that the woman was now really going away. +</p> + +<p> +The servant took her stand in front of the stall and entered into a friendly +gossip with old Madame Mehudin. Madame Taboureau, she said, was so exacting! +She had got some people coming to dinner that evening, some cousins from Blois +a notary and his wife. Madame Taboureau’s family, she added, was a very +respectable one, and she herself, although only a baker, had received an +excellent education. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll clean it nicely for me, won’t you?” added the +woman, pausing in her chatter. +</p> + +<p> +With a jerk of her finger La Normande had removed the fish’s entrails and +tossed them into a pail. Then she slipped a corner of her apron under its gills +to wipe away a few grains of sand. “There, my dear,” she said, +putting the fish into the servant’s basket, “you’ll come back +to thank me.” +</p> + +<p> +Certainly the servant did come back a quarter of an hour afterwards, but it was +with a flushed, red face. She had been crying, and her little body was +trembling all over with anger. Tossing the brill on to the marble slab, she +pointed to a broad gash in its belly that reached the bone. Then a flood of +broken words burst from her throat, which was still contracted by sobbing: +“Madame Taboureau won’t have it. She says she couldn’t put it +on her table. She told me, too, that I was an idiot, and let myself be cheated +by anyone. You can see for yourself that the fish is spoilt. I never thought of +turning it round; I quite trusted you. Give me my ten francs back.” +</p> + +<p> +“You should look at what you buy,” the handsome Norman calmly +observed. +</p> + +<p> +And then, as the servant was just raising her voice again, old Madame Mehudin +got up. “Just you shut up!” she cried. “We’re not going +to take back a fish that’s been knocking about in other people’s +houses. How do we know that you didn’t let it fall and damage it +yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“I! I damage it!” The little servant was choking with indignation. +“Ah! you’re a couple of thieves!” she cried, sobbing +bitterly. “Yes, a couple of thieves! Madame Taboureau herself told me +so!” +</p> + +<p> +Matters then became uproarious. Boiling over with rage and brandishing their +fists, both mother and daughter fairly exploded; while the poor little servant, +quite bewildered by their voices, the one hoarse and the other shrill, which +belaboured her with insults as though they were battledores and she a +shuttlecock, sobbed on more bitterly than ever. +</p> + +<p> +“Be off with you! Your Madame Taboureau would like to be half as fresh as +that fish is! She’d like us to sew it up for her, no doubt!” +</p> + +<p> +“A whole fish for ten francs! What’ll she want next!” +</p> + +<p> +Then came coarse words and foul accusations. Had the servant been the most +worthless of her sex she could not have been more bitterly upbraided. +</p> + +<p> +Florent, whom the market keeper had gone to fetch, made his appearance when the +quarrel was at its hottest. The whole pavilion seemed to be in a state of +insurrection. The fish-wives, who manifest the keenest jealousy of each other +when the sale of a penny herring is in question, display a united front when a +quarrel arises with a buyer. They sang the popular old ditty, “The +baker’s wife has heaps of crowns, which cost her precious little”; +they stamped their feet, and goaded the Mehudins as though the latter were dogs +which they were urging on to bite and devour. And there were even some, having +stalls at the other end of the alley, who rushed up wildly, as though they +meant to spring at the chignon of the poor little woman, she meantime being +quite submerged by the flood of insulting abuse poured upon her. +</p> + +<p> +“Return mademoiselle her ten francs,” said Florent sternly, when he +had learned what had taken place. +</p> + +<p> +But old Madame Mehudin had her blood up. “As for you, my little +man,” quoth she, “go to blazes! Here, that’s how I’ll +return the ten francs!” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke, she flung the brill with all her force at the head of Madame +Taboureau’s servant, who received it full in the face. The blood spurted +from her nose, and the brill, after adhering for a moment to her cheeks, fell +to the ground and burst with a flop like that of a wet clout. This brutal act +threw Florent into a fury. The beautiful Norman felt frightened and recoiled, +as he cried out: “I suspend you for a week, and I will have your licence +withdrawn. You hear me?” +</p> + +<p> +Then, as the other fish-wives were still jeering behind him, he turned round +with such a threatening air that they quailed like wild beasts mastered by the +tamer, and tried to assume an expression of innocence. When the Mehudins had +returned the ten francs, Florent peremptorily ordered them to cease selling at +once. The old woman was choking with rage, while the daughter kept silent, but +turned very white. She, the beautiful Norman, to be driven out of her stall! +</p> + +<p> +Claire said in her quiet voice that it served her mother and sister right, a +remark which nearly resulted in the two girls tearing each other’s hair +out that evening when they returned home to the Rue Pirouette. However, when +the Mehudins came back to the market at the week’s end, they remained +very quiet, reserved, and curt of speech, though full of a cold-blooded wrath. +Moreover, they found the pavilion quite calm and restored to order again. From +that day forward the beautiful Norman must have harboured the thought of some +terrible vengeance. She felt that she really had Lisa to thank for what had +happened. She had met her, the day after the battle, carrying her head so high, +that she had sworn she would make her pay dearly for her glance of triumph. She +held interminable confabulations with Madame Saget, Madame Lecœur, and La +Sarriette, in quiet corners of the market; however, all their chatter about the +shameless conduct which they slanderously ascribed to Lisa and her cousin, and +about the hairs which they declared were found in Quenu’s chitterlings, +brought La Normande little consolation. She was trying to think of some very +malicious plan of vengeance, which would strike her rival to the heart. +</p> + +<p> +Her child was growing up in the fish market in all freedom and neglect. When +but three years old the youngster had been brought there, and day by day +remained squatting on some rag amidst the fish. He would fall asleep beside the +big tunnies as though he were one of them, and awake among the mackerel and +whiting. The little rascal smelt of fish as strongly as though he were some big +fish’s offspring. For a long time his favourite pastime, whenever his +mother’s back was turned, was to build walls and houses of herrings; and +he would also play at soldiers on the marble slab, arranging the red gurnets in +confronting lines, pushing them against each other, and battering their heads, +while imitating the sound of drum and trumpet with his lips; after which he +would throw them all into a heap again, and exclaim that they were dead. When +he grew older he would prowl about his aunt Claire’s stall to get hold of +the bladders of the carp and pike which she gutted. He placed them on the +ground and made them burst, an amusement which afforded him vast delight. When +he was seven he rushed about the alleys, crawled under the stalls, ferreted +amongst the zinc bound fish boxes, and became the spoiled pet of all the women. +Whenever they showed him something fresh which pleased him, he would clasp his +hands and exclaim in ecstasy, “Oh, isn’t it stunning!” +<i>Muche</i> was the exact word which he used; <i>muche</i> being the +equivalent of “stunning” in the lingo of the markets; and he used +the expression so often that it clung to him as a nickname. He became known all +over the place as “Muche.” It was Muche here, there and everywhere; +no one called him anything else. He was to be met with in every nook; in +out-of-the-way corners of the offices in the auction pavilion; among the piles +of oyster baskets, and betwixt the buckets where the refuse was thrown. With a +pinky fairness of skin, he was like a young barbel frisking and gliding about +in deep water. He was as fond of running, streaming water as any young fry. He +was ever dabbling in the pools in the alleys. He wetted himself with the +drippings from the tables, and when no one was looking often slyly turned on +the taps, rejoicing in the bursting gush of water. But it was especially beside +the fountains near the cellar steps that his mother went to seek him in the +evening, and she would bring him thence with his hands quite blue, and his +shoes, and even his pockets, full of water. +</p> + +<p> +At seven years old Muche was as pretty as an angel, and as coarse in his +manners as any carter. He had curly chestnut hair, beautiful eyes, and an +innocent-looking mouth which gave vent to language that even a gendarme would +have hesitated to use. Brought up amidst all the ribaldry and profanity of the +markets, he had the whole vocabulary of the place on the tip of his tongue. +With his hands on his hips he often mimicked Grandmother Mehudin in her anger, +and at these times the coarsest and vilest expressions would stream from his +lips in a voice of crystalline purity that might have belonged to some little +chorister chanting the <i>Ave Maria</i>. He would even try to assume a hoarse +roughness of tone, seek to degrade and taint that exquisite freshness of +childhood which made him resemble a <i>bambino</i> on the Madonna’s +knees. The fish-wives laughed at him till they cried; and he, encouraged, could +scarcely say a couple of words without rapping out an oath. But in spite of all +this he still remained charming, understanding nothing of the dirt amidst which +he lived, kept in vigorous health by the fresh breezes and sharp odours of the +fish market, and reciting his vocabulary of coarse indecencies with as pure a +face as though he were saying his prayers. +</p> + +<p> +The winter was approaching, and Muche seemed very sensitive to the cold. As +soon as the chilly weather set in he manifested a strong predilection for the +inspector’s office. This was situated in the left-hand corner of the +pavilion, on the side of the Rue Rambuteau. The furniture consisted of a table, +a stack of drawers, an easy-chair, two other chairs, and a stove. It was this +stove which attracted Muche. Florent quite worshipped children, and when he saw +the little fellow, with his dripping legs, gazing wistfully through the window, +he made him come inside. His first conversation with the lad caused him +profound amazement. Muche sat down in front of the stove, and in his quiet +voice exclaimed: “I’ll just toast my toes, do you see? It’s +d——d cold this morning.” Then he broke into a rippling laugh, +and added: “Aunt Claire looks awfully blue this morning. Is it true, sir, +that you are sweet on her?” +</p> + +<p> +Amazed though he was, Florent felt quite interested in the odd little fellow. +The handsome Norman retained her surly bearing, but allowed her son to frequent +the inspector’s office without a word of objection. Florent consequently +concluded that he had the mother’s permission to receive the boy, and +every afternoon he asked him in; by degrees forming the idea of turning him +into a steady, respectable young fellow. He could almost fancy that his brother +Quenu had grown little again, and that they were both in the big room in the +Rue Royer-Collard once more. The life which his self-sacrificing nature +pictured to him as perfect happiness was a life spent with some young being who +would never grow up, whom he could go on teaching for ever, and in whose +innocence he might still love his fellow man. On the third day of his +acquaintance with Muche he brought an alphabet to the office, and the lad +delighted him by the intelligence he manifested. He learned his letters with +all the sharp precocity which marks the Parisian street arab, and derived great +amusement from the woodcuts illustrating the alphabet. +</p> + +<p> +He found opportunities, too, for plenty of fine fun in the little office, where +the stove still remained the chief attraction and a source of endless +enjoyment. At first he cooked potatoes and chestnuts at it, but presently these +seemed insipid, and he thereupon stole some gudgeons from his aunt Claire, +roasted them one by one, suspended from a string in front of the glowing fire, +and then devoured them with gusto, though he had no bread. One day he even +brought a carp with him; but it was impossible to roast it sufficiently, and it +made such a smell in the office that both window and door had to be thrown +open. Sometimes, when the odour of all these culinary operations became too +strong, Florent would throw the fish into the street, but as a rule he only +laughed. By the end of a couple of months Muche was able to read fairly well, +and his copy-books did him credit. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, every evening the lad wearied his mother with his talk about his good +friend Florent. His good friend Florent had drawn him pictures of trees and of +men in huts, said he. His good friend Florent waved his arm and said that men +would be far better if they all knew how to read. And at last La Normande heard +so much about Florent that she seemed to be almost intimate with this man +against whom she harboured so much rancour. One day she shut Muche up at home +to prevent him from going to the inspector’s, but he cried so bitterly +that she gave him his liberty again on the following morning. There was very +little determination about her, in spite of her broad shoulders and bold looks. +When the lad told her how nice and warm he had been in the office, and came +back to her with his clothes quite dry, she felt a sort of vague gratitude, a +pleasure in knowing that he had found a shelter-place where he could sit with +his feet in front of a fire. Later on, she was quite touched when he read her +some words from a scrap of soiled newspaper wrapped round a slice of +conger-eel. By degrees, indeed, she began to think, though without admitting +it, that Florent could not really be a bad sort of fellow. She felt respect for +his knowledge, mingled with an increasing curiosity to see more of him and +learn something of his life. Then, all at once, she found an excuse for +gratifying this inquisitiveness. She would use it as a means of vengeance. It +would be fine fun to make friends with Florent and embroil him with that great +fat Lisa. +</p> + +<p> +“Does your good friend Florent ever speak to you about me?” she +asked Muche one morning as she was dressing him. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no,” replied the boy. “We enjoy ourselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you can tell him that I’ve quite forgiven him, and that +I’m much obliged to him for having taught you to read.” +</p> + +<p> +Thenceforward the child was entrusted with some message every day. He went +backwards and forwards from his mother to the inspector, and from the inspector +to his mother, charged with kindly words and questions and answers, which he +repeated mechanically without knowing their meaning. He might, indeed, have +been safely trusted with the most compromising communications. However, the +beautiful Norman felt afraid of appearing timid, and so one day she herself +went to the inspector’s office and sat down on the second chair, while +Muche was having his writing lesson. She proved very suave and complimentary, +and Florent was by far the more embarrassed of the two. They only spoke of the +lad; and when Florent expressed a fear that he might not be able to continue +the lessons in the office, La Normande invited him to come to their home in the +evening. She spoke also of payment; but at this he blushed, and said that he +certainly would not come if any mention were made of money. Thereupon the young +woman determined in her own mind that she would recompense him with presents of +choice fish. +</p> + +<p> +Peace was thus made between them; the beautiful Norman even took Florent under +her protection. Apart from this, however, the whole market was becoming +reconciled to the new inspector, the fish-wives arriving at the conclusion that +he was really a better fellow than Monsieur Verlaque, notwithstanding his +strange eyes. It was only old Madame Mehudin who still shrugged her shoulders, +full of rancour as she was against the “long lanky-guts,” as she +contemptuously called him. And then, too, a strange thing happened. One +morning, when Florent stopped with a smile before Claire’s tanks, the +girl dropped an eel which she was holding and angrily turned her back upon him, +her cheeks quite swollen and reddened by temper. The inspector was so much +astonished that he spoke to La Normande about it. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, never mind her,” said the young woman; “she’s +cracked. She makes a point of always differing from everybody else. She only +behaved like that to annoy me.” +</p> + +<p> +La Normande was now triumphant—she strutted about her stall, and became +more coquettish than ever, arranging her hair in the most elaborate manner. +Meeting the handsome Lisa one day she returned her look of scorn, and even +burst out laughing in her face. The certainty she felt of driving the mistress +of the pork shop to despair by winning her cousin from her endowed her with a +gay, sonorous laugh, which rolled up from her chest and rippled her white plump +neck. She now had the whim of dressing Muche very showily in a little Highland +costume and velvet bonnet. The lad had never previously worn anything but a +tattered blouse. It unfortunately happened, however, that just about this time +he again became very fond of the water. The ice had melted and the weather was +mild, so he gave his Scotch jacket a bath, turning the fountain tap on at full +flow and letting the water pour down his arm from his elbow to his hand. He +called this “playing at gutters.” Then a little later, when his +mother came up and caught him, she found him with two other young scamps +watching a couple of little fishes swimming about in his velvet cap, which he +had filled with water. +</p> + +<p> +For nearly eight months Florent lived in the markets, feeling continual +drowsiness. After his seven years of suffering he had lighted upon such calm +quietude, such unbroken regularity of life, that he was scarcely conscious of +existing. He gave himself up to this jog-trot peacefulness with a dazed sort of +feeling, continually experiencing surprise at finding himself each morning in +the same armchair in the little office. This office with its bare hut-like +appearance had a charm for him. He here found a quiet and secluded refuge +amidst that ceaseless roar of the markets which made him dream of some surging +sea spreading around him, and isolating him from the world. Gradually, however, +a vague nervousness began to prey upon him; he became discontented, accused +himself of faults which he could not define, and began to rebel against the +emptiness which he experienced more and more acutely in mind and body. Then, +too, the evil smells of the fish market brought him nausea. By degrees he +became unhinged, his vague boredom developing into restless, nervous +excitement. +</p> + +<p> +All his days were precisely alike, spent among the same sounds and the same +odours. In the mornings the noisy buzzing of the auction sales resounded in his +ears like a distant echo of bells; and sometimes, when there was a delay in the +arrival of the fish, the auctions continued till very late. Upon these +occasions he remained in the pavilion till noon, disturbed at every moment by +quarrels and disputes, which he endeavoured to settle with scrupulous justice. +Hours elapsed before he could get free of some miserable matter or other which +was exciting the market. He paced up and down amidst the crush and uproar of +the sales, slowly perambulating the alleys and occasionally stopping in front +of the stalls which fringed the Rue Rambuteau, and where lay rosy heaps of +prawns and baskets of boiled lobsters with tails tied backwards, while live +ones were gradually dying as they sprawled over the marble slabs. And then he +would watch gentlemen in silk hats and black gloves bargaining with the +fish-wives, and finally going off with boiled lobsters wrapped in paper in the +pockets of their frock-coats.[*] Farther away, at the temporary stalls, where +the commoner sorts of fish were sold, he would recognise the bareheaded women +of the neighbourhood, who always came at the same hour to make their purchases. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] The little fish-basket for the use of customers, so familiar in London, is +not known in Paris.—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +At times he took an interest in some well-dressed lady trailing her lace +petticoats over the damp stones, and escorted by a servant in a white apron; +and he would follow her at a little distance on noticing how the fish-wives +shrugged their shoulders at sight of her air of disgust. The medley of hampers +and baskets and bags, the crowd of skirts flitting along the damp alleys, +occupied his attention until lunchtime. He took a delight in the dripping water +and the fresh breeze as he passed from the acrid smell of the shell-fish to the +pungent odour of the salted fish. It was always with the latter that he brought +his official round of inspection to a close. The cases of red herrings, the +Nantes sardines on their layers of leaves, and the rolled cod, exposed for sale +under the eyes of stout, faded fish-wives, brought him thoughts of a voyage +necessitating a vast supply of salted provisions. +</p> + +<p> +In the afternoon the markets became quieter, grew drowsy; and Florent then shut +himself up in his office, made out his reports, and enjoyed the happiest hours +of his day. If he happened to go out and cross the fish market, he found it +almost deserted. There was no longer the crushing and pushing and uproar of ten +o’clock in the morning. The fish-wives, seated behind their stalls, leant +back knitting, while a few belated purchasers prowled about casting sidelong +glances at the remaining fish, with the thoughtful eyes and compressed lips of +women closely calculating the price of their dinner. At last the twilight fell, +there was a noise of boxes being moved, and the fish was laid for the night on +beds of ice; and then, after witnessing the closing of the gates, Florent went +off, seemingly carrying the fish market along with him in his clothes and his +beard and his hair. +</p> + +<p> +For the first few months this penetrating odour caused him no great discomfort. +The winter was a severe one, the frosts converted the alleys into slippery +mirrors, and the fountains and marble slabs were fringed with a lacework of +ice. In the mornings it was necessary to place little braziers underneath the +taps before a drop of water could be drawn. The frozen fish had twisted tails; +and, dull of hue and hard to the touch like unpolished metal, gave out a +ringing sound akin to that of pale cast-iron when it snaps. Until February the +pavilion presented a most mournful appearance: it was deserted, and wrapped in +a bristling shroud of ice. But with March came a thaw, with mild weather and +fogs and rain. Then the fish became soft again, and unpleasant odours mingled +with the smell of mud wafted from the neighbouring streets. These odours were +as yet vague, tempered by the moisture which clung to the ground. But in the +blazing June afternoons a reeking stench arose, and the atmosphere became heavy +with a pestilential haze. The upper windows were then opened, and huge blinds +of grey canvas were drawn beneath the burning sky. Nevertheless, a fiery rain +seemed to be pouring down, heating the market as though it were a big stove, +and there was not a breath of air to waft away the noxious emanations from the +fish. A visible steam went up from the stalls. +</p> + +<p> +The masses of food amongst which Florent lived now began to cause him the +greatest discomfort. The disgust with which the pork shop had filled him came +back in a still more intolerable fashion. He almost sickened as he passed these +masses of fish, which, despite all the water lavished upon them, turned bad +under a sudden whiff of hot air. Even when he shut himself up in his office his +discomfort continued, for the abominable odour forced its way through the +chinks in the woodwork of the window and door. When the sky was grey and +leaden, the little room remained quite dark; and then the day was like a long +twilight in the depths of some fetid march. He was often attacked by fits of +nervous excitement, and felt a craving desire to walk; and he would then +descend into the cellars by the broad staircase opening in the middle of the +pavilion. In the pent-up air down below, in the dim light of the occasional gas +jets, he once more found the refreshing coolness diffused by pure cold water. +He would stand in front of the big tank where the reserve stock of live fish +was kept, and listen to the ceaseless murmur of the four streamlets of water +falling from the four corners of the central urn, and then spreading into a +broad stream and gliding beneath the locked gratings of the basins with a +gentle and continuous flow. This subterranean spring, this stream murmuring in +the gloom, had a tranquillising effect upon him. Of an evening, too, he +delighted in the fine sunsets which threw the delicate lacework of the market +buildings blackly against the red glow of the heavens. The dancing dust of the +last sun rays streamed through every opening, through every chink of the +Venetian shutters, and the whole was like some luminous transparency on which +the slender shafts of the columns, the elegant curves of the girders, and the +geometrical tracery of the roofs were minutely outlined. Florent feasted his +eyes on this mighty diagram washed in with Indian ink on phosphorescent vellum, +and his mind reverted to his old fancy of a colossal machine with wheels and +levers and beams espied in the crimson glow of the fires blazing beneath its +boilers. At each consecutive hour of the day the changing play of the +light—from the bluish haze of early morning and the black shadows of noon +to the flaring of the sinking sun and the paling of its fires in the ashy grey +of the twilight—revealed the markets under a new aspect; but on the +flaming evenings, when the foul smells arose and forced their way across the +broad yellow beams like hot puffs of steam, Florent again experienced +discomfort, and his dream changed, and he imagined himself in some gigantic +knacker’s boiling-house where the fat of a whole people was being melted +down. +</p> + +<p> +The coarseness of the market people, whose words and gestures seemed to be +infected with the evil smell of the place, also made him suffer. He was very +tolerant, and showed no mock modesty; still, these impudent women often +embarrassed him. Madame Francois, whom he had again met, was the only one with +whom he felt at ease. She showed such pleasure on learning he had found a berth +and was quite comfortable and out of worry, as she put it, that he was quite +touched. The laughter of Lisa, the handsome Norman, and the others disquieted +him; but of Madame Francois he would willingly have made a confidante. She +never laughed mockingly at him; when she did laugh, it was like a woman +rejoicing at another’s happiness. She was a brave, plucky creature, too; +hers was a hard business in winter, during the frosts, and the rainy weather +was still more trying. On some mornings Florent saw her arrive in a pouring +deluge which had been slowly, coldly falling ever since the previous night. +Between Nanterre and Paris the wheels of her cart had sunk up to the axles in +mud, and Balthazar was caked with mire to his belly. His mistress would pity +him and sympathise with him as she wiped him down with some old aprons. +</p> + +<p> +“The poor creatures are very sensitive,” said she; “a mere +nothing gives them a cold. Ah, my poor old Balthazar! I really thought that we +had tumbled into the Seine as we crossed the Neuilly bridge, the rain came down +in such a deluge!” +</p> + +<p> +While Balthazar was housed in the inn stable his mistress remained in the +pouring rain to sell her vegetables. The footway was transformed into a lake of +liquid mud. The cabbages, carrots, and turnips were pelted by the grey water, +quite drowned by the muddy torrent that rushed along the pavement. There was no +longer any of that glorious greenery so apparent on bright mornings. The market +gardeners, cowering in their heavy cloaks beneath the downpour, swore at the +municipality which, after due inquiry, had declared that rain was in no way +injurious to vegetables, and that there was accordingly no necessity to erect +any shelters. +</p> + +<p> +Those rainy mornings greatly worried Florent, who thought about Madame +Francois. He always managed to slip away and get a word with her. But he never +found her at all low-spirited. She shook herself like a poodle, saying that she +was quite used to such weather, and was not made of sugar, to melt away beneath +a few drops of rain. However, he made her seek refuge for a few minutes in one +of the covered ways, and frequently even took her to Monsieur Lebigre’s, +where they had some hot wine together. While she with her peaceful face beamed +on him in all friendliness, he felt quite delighted with the healthy odour of +the fields which she brought into the midst of the foul market atmosphere. She +exhaled a scent of earth, hay, fresh air, and open skies. +</p> + +<p> +“You must come to Nanterre, my lad,” she said to him, “and +look at my kitchen garden. I have put borders of thyme everywhere. How bad your +villainous Paris does smell!” +</p> + +<p> +Then she went off, dripping. Florent, on his side, felt quite re-invigorated +when he parted from her. He tried, too the effect of work upon the nervous +depression from which he suffered. He was a man of a very methodical +temperament, and sometimes carried out his plans for the allotment of his time +with a strictness that bordered on mania. He shut himself up two evenings a +week in order to write an exhaustive work on Cayenne. His modest bedroom was +excellently adapted, he thought, to calm his mind and incline him to work. He +lighted his fire, saw that the pomegranate at the foot of the bed was looking +all right, and then seated himself at the little table, and remained working +till midnight. He had pushed the missal and Dream-book back in the drawer, +which was now filling with notes, memoranda, manuscripts of all kinds. The work +on Cayenne made but slow progress, however, as it was constantly being +interrupted by other projects, plans for enormous undertakings which he +sketched out in a few words. He successively drafted an outline of a complete +reform of the administrative system of the markets, a scheme for transforming +the city dues, levied on produce as it entered Paris, into taxes levied upon +the sales, a new system of victualling the poorer neighbourhoods, and, lastly, +a somewhat vague socialist enactment for the storing in common warehouses of +all the provisions brought to the markets, and the ensuring of a minimum daily +supply to each household in Paris. As he sat there, with his head bent over his +table, and his mind absorbed in thoughts of all these weighty matters, his +gloomy figure cast a great black shadow on the soft peacefulness of the garret. +Sometimes a chaffinch which he had picked up one snowy day in the market would +mistake the lamplight for the day, and break the silence, which only the +scratching of Florent’s pen on his paper disturbed, by a cry. +</p> + +<p> +Florent was fated to revert to politics. He had suffered too much through them +not to make them the dearest occupation of his life. Under other conditions he +might have become a good provincial schoolmaster, happy in the peaceful life of +some little town. But he had been treated as though he were a wolf, and felt as +though he had been marked out by exile for some great combative task. His +nervous discomfort was the outcome of his long reveries at Cayenne, the +brooding bitterness he had felt at his unmerited sufferings, and the vows he +had secretly sworn to avenge humanity and justice—the former scourged +with a whip, and the latter trodden under foot. Those colossal markets and +their teeming odoriferous masses of food had hastened the crisis. To Florent +they appeared symbolical of some glutted, digesting beast, of Paris, wallowing +in its fat and silently upholding the Empire. He seemed to be encircled by +swelling forms and sleek, fat faces, which ever and ever protested against his +own martyrlike scragginess and sallow, discontented visage. To him the markets +were like the stomach of the shopkeeping classes, the stomach of all the folks +of average rectitude puffing itself out, rejoicing, glistening in the sunshine, +and declaring that everything was for the best, since peaceable people had +never before grown so beautifully fat. As these thoughts passed through his +mind Florent clenched his fists, and felt ready for a struggle, more irritated +now by the thought of his exile than he had been when he first returned to +France. Hatred resumed entire possession of him. He often let his pen drop and +became absorbed in dreams. The dying fire cast a bright glow upon his face; the +lamp burned smokily, and the chaffinch fell asleep again on one leg, with its +head tucked under its wing. +</p> + +<p> +Sometimes Auguste, on coming upstairs at eleven o’clock and seeing the +light shining under the door, would knock, before going to bed. Florent +admitted him with some impatience. The assistant sat down in front of the fire, +speaking but little, and never saying why he had come. His eyes would all the +time remain fixed upon the photograph of himself and Augustine in their Sunday +finery. Florent came to the conclusion that the young man took a pleasure in +visiting the room for the simple reason that it had been occupied by his +sweetheart; and one evening he asked him with a smile if he had guessed +rightly. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, perhaps it is so,” replied Auguste, very much surprised at +the discovery which he himself now made of the reasons which actuated him. +“I’d really never thought of that before. I came to see you without +knowing why. But if I were to tell Augustine, how she’d laugh!” +</p> + +<p> +Whenever he showed himself at all loquacious, his one eternal theme was the +pork shop which he was going to set up with Augustine at Plaisance. He seemed +so perfectly assured of arranging his life in accordance with his desires, that +Florent grew to feel a sort of respect for him, mingled with irritation. After +all, the young fellow was very resolute and energetic, in spite of his seeming +stupidity. He made straight for the goal he had in view, and would doubtless +reach it in perfect assurance and happiness. On the evenings of these visits +from the apprentice, Florent could not settle down to work again; he went off +to bed in a discontented mood, and did not recover his equilibrium till the +thought passed through his mind, “Why, that Auguste is a perfect +animal!” +</p> + +<p> +Every month he went to Clamart to see Monsieur Verlaque. These visits were +almost a delight to him. The poor man still lingered on, to the great +astonishment of Gavard, who had not expected him to last for more than six +months. Every time that Florent went to see him Verlaque would declare that he +was feeling better, and was most anxious to resume his work again. But the days +glided by, and he had serious relapses. Florent would sit by his bedside, chat +about the fish market, and do what he could to enliven him. He deposited on the +pedestal table the fifty francs which he surrendered to him each month; and the +old inspector, though the payment had been agreed upon, invariably protested, +and seemed disinclined to take the money. Then they would begin to speak of +something else, and the coins remained lying on the table. When Florent went +away, Madame Verlaque always accompanied him to the street door. She was a +gentle little woman, of a very tearful disposition. Her one topic of +conversation was the expense necessitated by her husband’s illness, the +costliness of chicken broth, butcher’s meat, Bordeaux wine, medicine, and +doctors’ fees. Her doleful conversation greatly embarrassed Florent, and +on the first few occasions he did not understand the drift of it. But at last, +as the poor woman seemed always in a state of tears, and kept saying how happy +and comfortable they had been when they had enjoyed the full salary of eighteen +hundred francs a year, he timidly offered to make her a private allowance, to +be kept secret from her husband. This offer, however, she declined, +inconsistently declaring that the fifty francs were sufficient. But in the +course of the month she frequently wrote to Florent, calling him their saviour. +Her handwriting was small and fine, yet she would contrive to fill three pages +of letter paper with humble, flowing sentences entreating the loan of ten +francs; and this she at last did so regularly that wellnigh the whole of +Florent’s hundred and fifty francs found its way to the Verlaques. The +husband was probably unaware of it; however, the wife gratefully kissed +Florent’s hands. This charity afforded him the greatest pleasure, and he +concealed it as though it were some forbidden selfish indulgence. +</p> + +<p> +“That rascal Verlaque is making a fool of you,” Gavard would +sometimes say. “He’s coddling himself up finely now that you are +doing the work and paying him an income.” +</p> + +<p> +At last one day Florent replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, we’ve arranged matters together. I’m only to give him +twenty-five francs a month in future.” +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact, Florent had but little need of money. The Quenus continued +to provide him with board and lodging; and the few francs which he kept by him +sufficed to pay for the refreshment he took in the evening at Monsieur +Lebigre’s. His life had gradually assumed all the regularity of +clockwork. He worked in his bedroom, continued to teach little Muche twice a +week from eight to nine o’clock, devoted an evening to Lisa, to avoid +offending her, and spent the rest of his spare time in the little +“cabinet” with Gavard and his friends. +</p> + +<p> +When he went to the Mehudins’ there was a touch of tutorial stiffness in +his gentle demeanour. He was pleased with the old house in the Rue Pirouette. +On the ground floor he passed through the faint odours pervading the premises +of the purveyor of cooked vegetables. Big pans of boiled spinach and sorrel +stood cooling in the little backyard. Then he ascended the winding staircase, +greasy and dark, with worn and bulging steps which sloped in a disquieting +manner. The Mehudins occupied the whole of the second floor. Even when they had +attained to comfortable circumstances the old mother had always declined to +move into fresh quarters, despite all the supplications of her daughters, who +dreamt of living in a new house in a fine broad street. But on this point the +old woman was not to be moved; she had lived there, she said, and meant to die +there. She contented herself, moreover, with a dark little closet, leaving the +largest rooms to Claire and La Normande. The later, with the authority of the +elder born, had taken possession of the room that overlooked the street; it was +the best and largest of the suite. Claire was so much annoyed at her +sister’s action in the matter that she refused to occupy the adjoining +room, whose window overlooked the yard, and obstinately insisted on sleeping on +the other side of the landing, in a sort of garret, which she did not even have +whitewashed. However, she had her own key, and so was independent; directly +anything happened to displease her she locked herself up in her own quarters. +</p> + +<p> +As a rule, when Florent arrived the Mehudins were just finishing their dinner. +Muche sprang to his neck, and for a moment the young man remained seated with +the lad chattering between his legs. Then, when the oilcloth cover had been +wiped, the lesson began on a corner of the table. The beautiful Norman gave +Florent a cordial welcome. She generally began to knit or mend some linen, and +would draw her chair up to the table and work by the light of the same lamp as +the others; and she frequently put down her needle to listen to the lesson, +which filled her with surprise. She soon began to feel warm esteem for this man +who seemed so clever, who, in speaking to the little one, showed himself as +gentle as a woman, and manifested angelic patience in again and again repeating +the same instructions. She no longer considered him at all plain, but even felt +somewhat jealous of beautiful Lisa. And then she drew her chair still nearer, +and gazed at Florent with an embarrassing smile. +</p> + +<p> +“But you are jogging my elbow, mother, and I can’t write,” +Muche exclaimed angrily. “There! see what a blot you’ve made me +make! Get further away, do!” +</p> + +<p> +La Normande now gradually began to say a good many unpleasant things about +beautiful Lisa. She pretended that the latter concealed her real age, that she +laced her stays so tightly that she nearly suffocated herself, and that if she +came down of a morning looking so trim and neat, without a single hair out of +place, it must be because she looked perfectly hideous when in dishabille. Then +La Normande would raise her arm a little, and say that there was no need for +her to wear any stays to cramp and deform her figure. At these times the +lessons would be interrupted, and Muche gazed with interest at his mother as +she raised her arms. Florent listened to her, and even laughed, thinking to +himself that women were very odd creatures. The rivalry between the beautiful +Norman and beautiful Lisa amused him. +</p> + +<p> +Muche, however, managed to finish his page of writing. Florent, who was a good +penman, set him copies in large hand and round hand on slips of paper. The +words he chose were very long and took up the whole line, and he evinced a +marked partiality for such expressions as “tyrannically,” +“liberticide,” “unconstitutional,” and +“revolutionary.” At times also he made the boy copy such sentences +as these: “The day of justice will surely come”; “The +suffering of the just man is the condemnation of the oppressor”; +“When the hour strikes, the guilty shall fall.” In preparing these +copy slips he was, indeed, influenced by the ideas which haunted his brain; he +would for the time become quite oblivious of Muche, the beautiful Norman, and +all his surroundings. The lad would have copied Rousseau’s “Contrat +Social” had he been told to do so; and thus, drawing each letter in turn, +he filled page after page with lines of “tyrannically” and +“unconstitutional.” +</p> + +<p> +As long as the tutor remained there, old Madame Mehudin kept fidgeting round +the table, muttering to herself. She still harboured terrible rancour against +Florent; and asserted that it was folly to make the lad work in that way at a +time when children should be in bed. She would certainly have turned that +“spindle-shanks” out of the house, if the beautiful Norman, after a +stormy scene, had not bluntly told her that she would go to live elsewhere if +she were not allowed to receive whom she chose. However, the pair began +quarrelling again on the subject every evening. +</p> + +<p> +“You may say what you like,” exclaimed the old woman; “but +he’s got treacherous eyes. And, besides, I’m always suspicious of +those skinny people. A skinny man’s capable of anything. I’ve never +come across a decent one yet. That one’s as flat as a board. And +he’s got such an ugly face, too! Though I’m sixty-five and more, +I’d precious soon send him about his business if he came a-courting of +me!” +</p> + +<p> +She said this because she had a shrewd idea of how matters were likely to turn +out. And then she went on to speak in laudatory terms of Monsieur Lebigre, who, +indeed, paid the greatest attention to the beautiful Norman. Apart from the +handsome dowry which he imagined she would bring with her, he considered that +she would be a magnificent acquisition to his counter. The old woman never +missed an opportunity to sound his praises; there was no lankiness, at any +rate, about him, said she; he was stout and strong, with a pair of calves which +would have done honour even to one of the Emperor’s footmen. +</p> + +<p> +However, La Normande shrugged her shoulders and snappishly replied: “What +do I care whether he’s stout or not? I don’t want him or anybody. +And besides, I shall do as I please.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, if the old woman became too pointed in her remarks, the other added: +“It’s no business of yours, and besides, it isn’t true. Hold +your tongue and don’t worry me.” And thereupon she would go off +into her room, banging the door behind her. Florent, however, had a yet more +bitter enemy than Madame Mehudin in the house. As soon as ever he arrived +there, Claire would get up without a word, take a candle, and go off to her own +room on the other side of the landing; and she could be heard locking her door +in a burst of sullen anger. One evening when her sister asked the tutor to +dinner, she prepared her own food on the landing, and ate it in her bedroom; +and now and again she secluded herself so closely that nothing was seen of her +for a week at a time. She usually retained her appearance of soft lissomness, +but periodically had a fit of iron rigidity, when her eyes blazed from under +her pale tawny locks like those of a distrustful wild animal. Old Mother +Mehudin, fancying that she might relieve herself in her company, only made her +furious by speaking to her of Florent; and thereupon the old woman, in her +exasperation, told everyone that she would have gone off and left her daughters +to themselves had she not been afraid of their devouring each other if they +remained alone together. +</p> + +<p> +As Florent went away one evening, he passed in front of Claire’s door, +which was standing wide open. He saw the girl look at him, and turn very red. +Her hostile demeanour annoyed him; and it was only the timidity which he felt +in the presence of women that restrained him from seeking an explanation of her +conduct. On this particular evening he would certainly have addressed her if he +had not detected Mademoiselle Saget’s pale face peering over the +balustrade of the upper landing. So he went his way, but had not taken a dozen +steps before Claire’s door was closed behind him with such violence as to +shake the whole staircase. It was after this that Mademoiselle Saget, eager to +propagate slander, went about repeating everywhere that Madame Quenu’s +cousin was “carrying on” most dreadfully with both the Mehudin +girls. +</p> + +<p> +Florent, however, gave very little thought to these two handsome young women. +His usual manner towards them was that of a man who has but little success with +the sex. Certainly he had come to entertain a feeling of genuine friendship for +La Normande, who really displayed a very good heart when her impetuous temper +did not run away with her. But he never went any further than this. Moreover, +the queenly proportions of her robust figure filled him with a kind of alarm; +and of an evening, whenever she drew her chair up to the lamp and bent forward +as though to look at Muche’s copy-book, he drew in his own sharp bony +elbows and shrunken shoulders as if realising what a pitiful specimen of +humanity he was by the side of that buxom, hardy creature so full of the life +of ripe womanhood. Moreover, there was another reason why he recoiled from her. +The smells of the markets distressed him; on finishing his duties of an evening +he would have liked to escape from the fishy odour amidst which his days were +spent; but, alas! beautiful though La Normande was, this odour seemed to adhere +to her silky skin. She had tried every sort of aromatic oil, and bathed freely; +but as soon as the freshening influence of the bath was over her blood again +impregnated her skin with the faint odour of salmon, the musky perfume of +smelts, and the pungent scent of herrings and skate. Her skirts, too, as she +moved about, exhaled these fishy smells, and she walked as though amidst an +atmosphere redolent of slimy seaweed. With her tall, goddess-like figure, her +purity of form, and transparency of complexion she resembled some lovely +antique marble that had rolled about in the depths of the sea and had been +brought to land in some fisherman’s net. +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget, however, swore by all her gods that Florent was the young +woman’s lover. According to her account, indeed, he courted both the +sisters. She had quarrelled with the beautiful Norman about a ten-sou dab; and +ever since this falling-out she had manifested warm friendship for handsome +Lisa. By this means she hoped the sooner to arrive at a solution of what she +called the Quenus’ mystery. Florent still continued to elude her +curiosity, and she told her friends that she felt like a body without a soul, +though she was careful not to reveal what was troubling her so grievously. A +young girl infatuated with a hopeless passion could not have been in more +distress than this terrible old woman at finding herself unable to solve the +mystery of the Quenus’ cousin. She was constantly playing the spy on +Florent, following him about, and watching him, in a burning rage at her +failure to satisfy her rampant curiosity. Now that he had begun to visit the +Mehudins she was for ever haunting the stairs and landings. She soon discovered +that handsome Lisa was much annoyed at Florent visiting “those +women,” and accordingly she called at the pork shop every morning with a +budget of information. She went in shrivelled and shrunk by the frosty air, +and, resting her hands on the heating-pan to warm them, remained in front of +the counter buying nothing, but repeating in her shrill voice: “He was +with them again yesterday; he seems to live there now. I heard La Normande call +him ‘my dear’ on the staircase.” +</p> + +<p> +She indulged like this in all sorts of lies in order to remain in the shop and +continue warming her hands for a little longer. On the morning after the +evening when she had heard Claire close her door behind Florent, she spun out +her story for a good half hour, inventing all sorts of mendacious and +abominable particulars. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa, who had assumed a look of contemptuous scorn, said but little, simply +encouraging Mademoiselle Saget’s gossip by her silence. At last, however, +she interrupted her. “No, no,” she said; “I can’t +really listen to all that. Is it possible that there can be such women?” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon Mademoiselle Saget told Lisa that unfortunately all women were not so +well conducted as herself. And then she pretended to find all sorts of excuses +for Florent: it wasn’t his fault; he was no doubt a bachelor; these women +had very likely inveigled him in their snares. In this way she hinted questions +without openly asking them. But Lisa preserved silence with respect to her +cousin, merely shrugging her shoulders and compressing her lips. When +Mademoiselle Saget at last went away, the mistress of the shop glanced with +disgust at the cover of the heating-pan, the glistening metal of which had been +tarnished by the impression of the old woman’s little hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Augustine,” she cried, “bring a duster, and wipe the cover +of the heating-pan. It’s quite filthy!” +</p> + +<p> +The rivalry between the beautiful Lisa and the beautiful Norman now became +formidable. The beautiful Norman flattered herself that she had carried a lover +off from her enemy; and the beautiful Lisa was indignant with the hussy who, by +luring the sly cousin to her home, would surely end by compromising them all. +The natural temperament of each woman manifested itself in the hostilities +which ensued. The one remained calm and scornful, like a lady who holds up her +skirts to keep them from being soiled by the mud; while the other, much less +subject to shame, displayed insolent gaiety and swaggered along the footways +with the airs of a duellist seeking a cause of quarrel. Each of their +skirmishes would be the talk of the fish market for the whole day. When the +beautiful Norman saw the beautiful Lisa standing at the door of her shop, she +would go out of her way in order to pass her, and brush against her with her +apron; and then the angry glances of the two rivals crossed like rapiers, with +the rapid flash and thrust of pointed steel. When the beautiful Lisa, on the +other hand, went to the fish market, she assumed an expression of disgust on +approaching the beautiful Norman’s stall. And then she proceeded to +purchase some big fish—a turbot or a salmon—of a neighbouring +dealer, spreading her money out on the marble slab as she did so, for she had +noticed that this seemed to have a painful effect upon the “hussy,” +who ceased laughing at the sight. To hear the two rivals speak, anyone would +have supposed that the fish and pork they sold were quite unfit for food. +However, their principal engagements took place when the beautiful Norman was +seated at her stall and the beautiful Lisa at her counter, and they glowered +blackly at each other across the Rue Rambuteau. They sat in state in their big +white aprons, decked out with showy toilets and jewels, and the battle between +them would commence early in the morning. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo, the fat woman’s got up!” the beautiful Norman would +exclaim. “She ties herself up as tightly as her sausages! Ah, she’s +got Saturday’s collar on again, and she’s still wearing that poplin +dress!” +</p> + +<p> +At the same moment, on the opposite side of the street, beautiful Lisa was +saying to her shop girl: “Just look at that creature staring at us over +yonder, Augustine! She’s getting quite deformed by the life she leads. Do +you see her earrings? She’s wearing those big drops of hers, isn’t +she? It makes one feel ashamed to see a girl like that with brilliants.” +</p> + +<p> +All complaisance, Augustine echoed her mistress’s words. +</p> + +<p> +When either of them was able to display a new ornament it was like scoring a +victory—the other one almost choked with spleen. Every day they would +scrutinise and count each other’s customers, and manifest the greatest +annoyance if they thought that the “big thing over the way” was +doing the better business. Then they spied out what each had for lunch. Each +knew what the other ate, and even watched to see how she digested it. In the +afternoon, while the one sat amidst her cooked meats and the other amidst her +fish, they posed and gave themselves airs, as though they were queens of +beauty. It was then that the victory of the day was decided. The beautiful +Norman embroidered, selecting the most delicate and difficult work, and this +aroused Lisa’s exasperation. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” she said, speaking of her rival, “she had far better +mend her boy’s stockings. He’s running about quite barefooted. Just +look at that fine lady, with her red hands stinking of fish!” +</p> + +<p> +For her part, Lisa usually knitted. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s still at that same sock,” La Normande would say, as +she watched her. “She eats so much that she goes to sleep over her work. +I pity her poor husband if he’s waiting for those socks to keep his feet +warm!” +</p> + +<p> +They would sit glowering at each other with this implacable hostility until +evening, taking note of every customer, and displaying such keen eyesight that +they detected the smallest details of each other’s dress and person when +other women declared that they could see nothing at such a distance. +Mademoiselle Saget expressed the highest admiration for Madame Quenu’s +wonderful sight when she one day detected a scratch on the fish-girl’s +left cheek. With eyes like those, said the old maid, one might even see through +a door. However, the victory often remained undecided when night fell; +sometimes one or other of the rivals was temporarily crushed, but she took her +revenge on the morrow. Several people of the neighbourhood actually laid wagers +on these contests, some backing the beautiful Lisa and others the beautiful +Norman. +</p> + +<p> +At last they ended by forbidding their children to speak to one another. +Pauline and Muche had formerly been good friends, notwithstanding the +girl’s stiff petticoats and lady-like demeanour, and the lad’s +tattered appearance, coarse language, and rough manners. They had at times +played together at horses on the broad footway in front of the fish market, +Pauline always being the horse and Muche the driver. One day, however, when the +boy came in all simplicity to seek his playmate, Lisa turned him out of the +house, declaring that he was a dirty little street arab. +</p> + +<p> +“One can’t tell what may happen with children who have been so +shockingly brought up,” she observed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed; you are quite right,” replied Mademoiselle Saget, who +happened to be present. +</p> + +<p> +When Muche, who was barely seven years old, came in tears to his mother to tell +her of what had happened, La Normande broke out into a terrible passion. At the +first moment she felt a strong inclination to rush over to the +Quenu-Gradelles’ and smash everything in their shop. But eventually she +contented herself with giving Muche a whipping. +</p> + +<p> +“If ever I catch you going there again,” she cried, boiling over +with anger, “you’ll get it hot from me, I can tell you!” +</p> + +<p> +Florent, however, was the real victim of the two women. It was he, in truth, +who had set them by the ears, and it was on his account that they were fighting +each other. Ever since he had appeared upon the scene things had been going +from bad to worse. He compromised and disturbed and embittered all these +people, who had previously lived in such sleek peace and harmony. The beautiful +Norman felt inclined to claw him when he lingered too long with the Quenus, and +it was chiefly from an impulse of hostile rivalry that she desired to win him +to herself. The beautiful Lisa, on her side, maintained a cold judicial +bearing, and although extremely annoyed, forced herself to silence whenever she +saw Florent leaving the pork shop to go to the Rue Pirouette. +</p> + +<p> +Still, there was now much less cordiality than formerly round the Quenus’ +dinner-table in the evening. The clean, prim dining-room seemed to have assumed +an aspect of chilling severity. Florent divined a reproach, a sort of +condemnation in the bright oak, the polished lamp, and the new matting. He +scarcely dared to eat for fear of letting crumbs fall on the floor or soiling +his plate. There was a guileless simplicity about him which prevented him from +seeing how the land really lay. He still praised Lisa’s affectionate +kindliness on all sides; and outwardly, indeed, she did continue to treat him +with all gentleness. +</p> + +<p> +“It is very strange,” she said to him one day with a smile, as +though she were joking; “although you don’t eat at all badly now, +you don’t get fatter. Your food doesn’t seem to do you any +good.” +</p> + +<p> +At this Quenu laughed aloud, and tapping his brother’s stomach, protested +that the whole contents of the pork shop might pass through it without +depositing a layer of fat as thick as a two-sou piece. However, Lisa’s +insistence on this particular subject was instinct with that same suspicious +dislike for fleshless men which Madame Mehudin manifested more outspokenly; and +behind it all there was likewise a veiled allusion to the disorderly life which +she imagined Florent was leading. She never, however, spoke a word to him about +La Normande. Quenu had attempted a joke on the subject one evening, but Lisa +had received it so icily that the good man had not ventured to refer to the +matter again. They would remain seated at table for a few moments after +dessert, and Florent, who had noticed his sister-in-law’s vexation if +ever he went off too soon, tried to find something to talk about. On these +occasions Lisa would be near him, and certainly he did not suffer in her +presence from that fishy smell which assailed him when he was in the company of +La Normande. The mistress of the pork shop, on the contrary, exhaled an odour +of fat and rich meats. Moreover, not a thrill of life stirred her tight-fitting +bodice; she was all massiveness and all sedateness. Gavard once said to Florent +in confidence that Madame Quenu was no doubt handsome, but that for his part he +did not admire such armour-plated women. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa avoided talking to Quenu of Florent. She habitually prided herself on her +patience, and considered, too, that it would not be proper to cause any +unpleasantness between the brothers, unless some peremptory reason for her +interference should arise. As she said, she could put up with a good deal, but, +of course, she must not be tried too far. She had now reached the period of +courteous tolerance, wearing an expressionless face, affecting perfect +indifference and strict politeness, and carefully avoiding everything which +might seem to hint that Florent was boarding and lodging with them without +their receiving the slightest payment from him. Not, indeed, that she would +have accepted any payment from him, she was above all that; still he might, at +any rate, she thought, have lunched away from the house. +</p> + +<p> +“We never seem to be alone now,” she remarked to Quenu one day. +“If there is anything we want to say to one another we have to wait till +we go upstairs at night.” +</p> + +<p> +And then, one night when they were in bed, she said to him: “Your brother +earns a hundred and fifty francs a month, doesn’t he? Well, it’s +strange he can’t put a trifle by to buy himself some more linen. +I’ve been obliged to give him three more of your old shirts.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” Quenu replied. +“Florent’s not hard to please; and we must let him keep his money +for himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, of course,” said Lisa, without pressing the matter +further. “I didn’t mention it for that reason. Whether he spends +his money well or ill, it isn’t our business.” +</p> + +<p> +In her own mind she felt quite sure that he wasted his salary at the +Mehudins’. +</p> + +<p> +Only on one occasion did she break through her habitual calmness of demeanour, +the quiet reserve which was the result of both natural temperament and +preconceived design. The beautiful Norman had made Florent a present of a +magnificent salmon. Feeling very much embarrassed with the fish, and not daring +to refuse it, he brought it to Lisa. +</p> + +<p> +“You can make a pasty of it,” he said ingenuously. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa looked at him sternly with whitening lips. Then, striving to restrain her +anger, she exclaimed: “Do you think that we are short of food? Thank God, +we’ve got quite enough to eat here! Take it back!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, at any rate, cook it for me,” replied Florent, amazed by her +anger; “I’ll eat it myself.” +</p> + +<p> +At this she burst out furiously. +</p> + +<p> +“The house isn’t an inn! Tell those who gave you the fish to cook +it for you! I won’t have my pans tainted and infected! Take it back +again! Do you hear?” +</p> + +<p> +If he had not gone away with it, she would certainly have seized it and hurled +it into the street. Florent took it to Monsieur Lebigre’s, where Rose was +ordered to make a pasty of it; and one evening the pasty was eaten in the +little “cabinet,” Gavard, who was present, “standing” +some oysters for the occasion. Florent now gradually came more and more +frequently to Monsieur Lebigre’s, till at last he was constantly to be +met in the little private room. He there found an atmosphere of heated +excitement in which his political feverishness could pulsate freely. At times, +now, when he shut himself up in his garret to work, the quiet simplicity of the +little room irritated him, his theoretical search for liberty proved quite +insufficient, and it became necessary that he should go downstairs, sally out, +and seek satisfaction in the trenchant axioms of Charvet and the wild outbursts +of Logre. During the first few evenings the clamour and chatter had made him +feel ill at ease; he was then quite conscious of their utter emptiness, but he +felt a need of drowning his thoughts, of goading himself on to some extreme +resolution which might calm his mental disquietude. The atmosphere of the +little room, reeking with the odour of spirits and warm with tobacco smoke, +intoxicated him and filled him with peculiar beatitude, prompting a kind of +self-surrender which made him willing to acquiesce in the wildest ideas. He +grew attached to those he met there, and looked for them and awaited their +coming with a pleasure which increased with habit. Robine’s mild, bearded +countenance, Clemence’s serious profile, Charvet’s fleshless +pallor, Logre’s hump, Gavard, Alexandre, and Lacaille, all entered into +his life, and assumed a larger and larger place in it. He took quite a sensual +enjoyment in these meetings. When his fingers closed round the brass knob on +the door of the little cabinet it seemed to be animated with life, to warm him, +and turn of its own accord. Had he grasped the supple wrist of a woman he could +not have felt a more thrilling emotion. +</p> + +<p> +To tell the truth, very serious things took place in that little room. One +evening, Logre, after indulging in wilder outbursts than usual, banged his fist +upon the table, declaring that if they were men they would make a clean sweep +of the Government. And he added that it was necessary they should come to an +understanding without further delay, if they desired to be fully prepared when +the time for action arrived. Then they all bent their heads together, discussed +the matter in lower tones, and decided to form a little “group,” +which should be ready for whatever might happen. From that day forward Gavard +flattered himself that he was a member of a secret society, and was engaged in +a conspiracy. The little circle received no new members, but Logre promised to +put it into communication with other associations with which he was acquainted; +and then, as soon as they held all Paris in their grasp, they would rise and +make the Tuileries’ people dance. A series of endless discussions, +renewed during several months, then began—discussions on questions of +organisation, on questions of ways and means, on questions of strategy, and of +the form of the future Government. As soon as Rose had brought Clemence’s +grog, Charvet’s and Robine’s beer, the coffee for Logre, Gavard, +and Florent, and the liqueur glasses of brandy for Lacaille and Alexandre, the +door of the cabinet was carefully fastened, and the debate began. +</p> + +<p> +Charvet and Florent were naturally those whose utterances were listened to with +the greatest attention. Gavard had not been able to keep his tongue from +wagging, but had gradually related the whole story of Cayenne; and Florent +found himself surrounded by a halo of martyrdom. His words were received as +though they were the expression of indisputable dogmas. One evening, however, +the poultry dealer, vexed at hearing his friend, who happened to be absent, +attacked, exclaimed: “Don’t say anything against Florent; +he’s been to Cayenne!” +</p> + +<p> +Charvet was rather annoyed by the advantage which this circumstance gave to +Florent. “Cayenne, Cayenne,” he muttered between his teeth. +“Ah, well, they were not so badly off there, after all.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he attempted to prove that exile was a mere nothing, and that real +suffering consisted in remaining in one’s oppressed country, gagged in +presence of triumphant despotism. And besides, he urged, it wasn’t his +fault that he hadn’t been arrested on the Second of December. Next, +however, he hinted that those who had allowed themselves to be captured were +imbeciles. His secret jealousy made him a systematic opponent of Florent; and +the general discussions always ended in a duel between these two, who, while +their companions listened in silence, would speak against one another for hours +at a time, without either of them allowing that he was beaten. +</p> + +<p> +One of the favourite subjects of discussion was that of the reorganisation of +the country which would have to be effected on the morrow of their victory. +</p> + +<p> +“We are the conquerors, are we not?” began Gavard. +</p> + +<p> +And, triumph being taken for granted, everyone offered his opinion. There were +two rival parties. Charvet, who was a disciple of Hébert, was supported by +Logre and Robine; while Florent, who was always absorbed in humanitarian +dreams, and called himself a Socialist, was backed by Alexandre and Lacaille. +As for Gavard, he felt no repugnance for violent action; but, as he was often +twitted about his fortune with no end of sarcastic witticisms which annoyed +him, he declared himself a Communist. +</p> + +<p> +“We must make a clean sweep of everything,” Charvet would curtly +say, as though he were delivering a blow with a cleaver. “The trunk is +rotten, and it must come down.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes! yes!” cried Logre, standing up that he might look taller, and +making the partition shake with the excited motion of his hump. +“Everything will be levelled to the ground; take my word for it. After +that we shall see what to do.” +</p> + +<p> +Robine signified approval by wagging his beard. His silence seemed instinct +with delight whenever violent revolutionary propositions were made. His eyes +assumed a soft ecstatic expression at the mention of the guillotine. He half +closed them, as though he could see the machine, and was filled with pleasant +emotion at the sight; and next he would gently rub his chin against the knob of +his stick, with a subdued purr of satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“All the same,” said Florent, in whose voice a vague touch of +sadness lingered, “if you cut down the tree it will be necessary to +preserve some seed. For my part, I think that the tree ought to be preserved, +so that we may graft new life on it. The political revolution, you know, has +already taken place; to-day we have got to think of the labourer, the working +man. Our movement must be altogether a social one. I defy you to reject the +claims of the people. They are weary of waiting, and are determined to have +their share of happiness.” +</p> + +<p> +These words aroused Alexandre’s enthusiasm. With a beaming, radiant face +he declared that this was true, that the people were weary of waiting. +</p> + +<p> +“And we will have our share,” added Lacaille, with a more menacing +expression. “All the revolutions that have taken place have been for the +good of the middle classes. We’ve had quite enough of that sort of thing, +and the next one shall be for our benefit.” +</p> + +<p> +From this moment disagreement set in. Gavard offered to make a division of his +property, but Logre declined, asserting that he cared nothing for money. Then +Charvet gradually overcame the tumult, till at last he alone was heard +speaking. +</p> + +<p> +“The selfishness of the different classes does more than anything else to +uphold tyranny,” said he. “It is wrong of the people to display +egotism. If they assist us they shall have their share. But why should I fight +for the working man if the working man won’t fight for me? Moreover, that +is not the question at present. Ten years of revolutionary dictatorship will be +necessary to accustom a nation like France to the fitting enjoyment of +liberty.” +</p> + +<p> +“All the more so as the working man is not ripe for it, and requires to +be directed,” said Clemence bluntly. +</p> + +<p> +She but seldom spoke. This tall, serious looking girl, alone among so many men, +listened to all the political chatter with a learnedly critical air. She leaned +back against the partition, and every now and then sipped her grog whilst +gazing at the speakers with frowning brows or inflated nostrils, thus silently +signifying her approval or disapproval, and making it quite clear that she held +decided opinions upon the most complicated matters. At times she would roll a +cigarette, and puff slender whiffs of smoke from the corners of her mouth, +whilst lending increased attention to what was being debated. It was as though +she were presiding over the discussion, and would award the prize to the victor +when it was finished. She certainly considered that it became her, as a woman, +to display some reserve in her opinions, and to remain calm whilst the men grew +more and more excited. Now and then, however, in the heat of the debate, she +would let a word or a phrase escape her and “clench the matter” +even for Charvet himself, as Gavard said. In her heart she believed herself the +superior of all these fellows. The only one of them for whom she felt any +respect was Robine, and she would thoughtfully contemplate his silent bearing. +</p> + +<p> +Neither Florent nor any of the others paid any special attention to Clemence. +They treated her just as though she were a man, shaking hands with her so +roughly as almost to dislocate her arms. One evening Florent witnessed the +periodical settlement of accounts between her and Charvet. She had just +received her pay, and Charvet wanted to borrow ten francs from her; but she +first of all insisted that they must reckon up how matters stood between them. +They lived together in a voluntary partnership, each having complete control of +his or her earnings, and strictly paying his or her expenses. By so doing, said +they, they were under no obligations to one another, but retained entire +freedom. Rent, food, washing, and amusements, were all noted down and added up. +That evening, when the accounts had been verified, Clemence proved to Charvet +that he already owed her five francs. Then she handed him the other ten which +he wished to borrow, and exclaimed: “Recollect that you now owe me +fifteen. I shall expect you to repay me on the fifth, when you get paid for +teaching little Lehudier.” +</p> + +<p> +When Rose was summoned to receive payment for the “drinks,” each +produced the few coppers required to discharge his or her liability. Charvet +laughingly called Clemence an aristocrat because she drank grog. She wanted to +humiliate him, said he, and make him feel that he earned less than she did, +which, as it happened, was the fact. Beneath his laugh, however, there was a +feeling of bitterness that the girl should be better circumstanced than +himself, for, in spite of his theory of the equality of the sexes, this lowered +him. +</p> + +<p> +Although the discussions in the little room had virtually no result, they +served to exercise the speakers’ lungs. A tremendous hubbub proceeded +from the sanctum, and the panes of frosted glass vibrated like drum-skins. +Sometimes the uproar became so great that Rose, while languidly serving some +blouse-wearing customer in the shop, would turn her head uneasily. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, they’re surely fighting together in there,” the +customer would say, as he put his glass down on the zinc-covered counter, and +wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, there’s no fear of that,” Monsieur Lebigre tranquilly +replied. “It’s only some gentlemen talking together.” +</p> + +<p> +Monsieur Lebigre, indeed, although very strict with his other customers, +allowed the politicians to shout as loudly as they pleased, and never made the +least remark on the subject. He would sit for hours together on the bench +behind the counter, with his big head lolling drowsily against the mirror, +whilst he watched Rose uncorking the bottles and giving a wipe here and there +with her duster. And in spite of the somniferous effects of the wine fumes and +the warm streaming gaslight, he would keep his ears open to the sounds +proceeding from the little room. At times, when the voices grew noisier than +usual, he got up from his seat and went to lean against the partition; and +occasionally he even pushed the door open, and went inside and sat down there +for a few minutes, giving Gavard a friendly slap on the thigh. And then he +would nod approval of everything that was said. The poultry dealer asserted +that although friend Lebigre hadn’t the stuff of an orator in him, they +might safely reckon on him when the “shindy” came. +</p> + +<p> +One morning, however, at the markets, when a tremendous row broke out between +Rose and one of the fish-wives, through the former accidentally knocking over a +basket of herrings, Florent heard Rose’s employer spoken of as a +“dirty spy” in the pay of the police. And after he had succeeded in +restoring peace, all sorts of stories about Monsieur Lebigre were poured into +his ears. Yes, the wine seller was in the pay of the police, the fish-wives +said; all the neighbourhood knew it. Before Mademoiselle Saget had begun to +deal with him she had once met him entering the Prefecture to make his report. +It was asserted, too, that he was a money-monger, a usurer, and lent petty sums +by the day to costermongers, and let out barrows to them, exacting a scandalous +rate of interest in return. Florent was greatly disturbed by all this, and felt +it his duty to repeat it that evening to his fellow politicians. The latter, +however, only shrugged their shoulders, and laughed at his uneasiness. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Florent!” Charvet exclaimed sarcastically; “he imagines +the whole police force is on his track, just because he happens to have been +sent to Cayenne!” +</p> + +<p> +Gavard gave his word of honour that Lebigre was perfectly staunch and true, +while Logre, for his part, manifested extreme irritation. He fumed and declared +that it would be quite impossible for them to get on if everyone was to be +accused of being a police spy; for his own part, he would rather stay at home, +and have nothing more to do with politics. Why, hadn’t people even dared +to say that he, Logre himself, who had fought in ‘48 and ‘51, and +had twice narrowly escaped transportation, was a spy as well? As he shouted +this out, he thrust his jaws forward, and glared at the others as though he +would have liked to ram the conviction that he had nothing to do with the +police down their throats. At the sight of his furious glances his companions +made gestures of protestation. However, Lacaille, on hearing Monsieur Lebigre +accused of usury, silently lowered his head. +</p> + +<p> +The incident was forgotten in the discussions which ensued. Since Logre had +suggested a conspiracy, Monsieur Lebigre had grasped the hands of the +frequenters of the little room with more vigor than ever. Their custom, to tell +the truth, was of but small value to him, for they never ordered more than one +“drink” apiece. They drained the last drops just as they rose to +leave, having been careful to allow a little to remain in their glasses, even +during their most heated arguments. In this wise the one “shout” +lasted throughout the evening. They shivered as they turned out into the cold +dampness of the night, and for a moment or two remained standing on the footway +with dazzled eyes and buzzing ears, as though surprised by the dark silence of +the street. Rose, meanwhile, fastened the shutters behind them. Then, quite +exhausted, at a loss for another word they shook hands, separated, and went +their different ways, still mentally continuing the discussion of the evening, +and regretting that they could not ram their particular theories down each +other’s throats. Robine walked away, with his bent back bobbing up and +down, in the direction of the Rue Rambuteau; whilst Charvet and Clemence went +off through the markets on their return to the Luxembourg quarter, their heels +sounding on the flag-stones in military fashion, whilst they still discussed +some question of politics or philosophy, walking along side by side, but never +arm-in-arm. +</p> + +<p> +The conspiracy ripened very slowly. At the commencement of the summer the +plotters had got no further than agreeing that it was necessary a stroke should +be attempted. Florent, who had at first looked upon the whole business with a +kind of distrust, had now, however, come to believe in the possibility of a +revolutionary movement. He took up the matter seriously; making notes, and +preparing plans in writing, while the others still did nothing but talk. For +his part, he began to concentrate his whole life in the one persistent idea +which made his brain throb night after night; and this to such a degree that he +at last took his brother Quenu with him to Monsieur Lebigre’s, as though +such a course were quite natural. Certainly he had no thought of doing anything +improper. He still looked upon Quenu as in some degree his pupil, and may even +have considered it his duty to start him on the proper path. Quenu was an +absolute novice in politics, but after spending five or six evenings in the +little room he found himself quite in accord with the others. When Lisa was not +present he manifested much docility, a sort of respect for his brother’s +opinions. But the greatest charm of the affair for him was really the mild +dissipation of leaving his shop and shutting himself up in the little room +where the others shouted so loudly, and where Clemence’s presence, in his +opinion, gave a tinge of rakishness and romance to the proceedings. He now made +all haste with his chitterlings in order that he might get away as early as +possible, anxious to lose not a single word of the discussions, which seemed to +him to be very brilliant, though he was not always able to follow them. The +beautiful Lisa did not fail to notice his hurry to be gone, but as yet she +refrained from saying anything. When Florent took him off, she simply went to +the door-step, and watched them enter Monsieur Lebigre’s, her face paling +somewhat, and a severe expression coming into her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +One evening, as Mademoiselle Saget was peering out of her garret casement, she +recognised Quenu’s shadow on the frosted glass of the +“cabinet” window facing the Rue Pirouette. She had found her +casement an excellent post of observation, as it overlooked that milky +transparency, on which the gaslight threw silhouettes of the politicians, with +noses suddenly appearing and disappearing, gaping jaws abruptly springing into +sight and then vanishing, and huge arms, apparently destitute of bodies, waving +hither and thither. This extraordinary jumble of detached limbs, these silent +but frantic profiles, bore witness to the heated discussions that went on in +the little room, and kept the old maid peering from behind her muslin curtains +until the transparency turned black. She shrewdly suspected some “bit of +trickery,” as she phrased it. By continual watching she had come to +recognise the different shadows by their hands and hair and clothes. As she +gazed upon the chaos of clenched fists, angry heads, and swaying shoulders, +which seemed to have become detached from their trunks and to roll about one +atop of the other, she would exclaim unhesitatingly, “Ah, there’s +that big booby of a cousin; there’s that miserly old Gavard; and +there’s the hunchback; and there’s that maypole of a +Clemence!” Then, when the action of the shadow-play became more +pronounced, and they all seemed to have lost control over themselves, she felt +an irresistible impulse to go downstairs to try to find out what was happening. +Thus she now made a point of buying her black-currant syrup at nights, +pretending that she felt out-of-sorts in the morning, and was obliged to take a +sip as soon as ever she was out of bed. On the evening when she noticed +Quenu’s massive head shadowed on the transparency in close proximity to +Charvet’s fist, she made her appearance at Monsieur Lebigre’s in a +breathless condition. To gain more time, she made Rose rinse out her little +bottle for her; however, she was about to return to her room when she heard the +pork butcher exclaim with a sort of childish candour: +</p> + +<p> +“No, indeed, we’ll stand for it no longer! We’ll make a clean +sweep of all those humbugging Deputies and Ministers! Yes, we’ll send the +whole lot packing.” +</p> + +<p> +Eight o’clock had scarcely struck on the following morning when +Mademoiselle Saget was already at the pork shop. She found Madame Lecœur and +La Sarriette there, dipping their noses into the heating-pan, and buying hot +sausages for breakfast. As the old maid had managed to draw them into her +quarrel with La Normande with respect to the ten-sou dab, they had at once made +friends again with Lisa, and they now had nothing but contempt for the handsome +fish-girl, and assailed her and her sister as good-for-nothing hussies, whose +only aim was to fleece men of their money. This opinion had been inspired by +the assertions of Mademoiselle Saget, who had declared to Madame Lecœur that +Florent had induced one of the two girls to coquette with Gavard, and that the +four of them had indulged in the wildest dissipation at +Barratte’s—of course, at the poultry dealer’s expense. From +the effects of this impudent story Madame Lecœur had not yet recovered; she +wore a doleful appearance, and her eyes were quite yellow with spleen. +</p> + +<p> +That morning, however, it was for Madame Quenu that the old maid had a shock in +store. She looked round the counter, and then in her most gentle voice +remarked: +</p> + +<p> +“I saw Monsieur Quenu last night. They seem to enjoy themselves immensely +in that little room at Lebigre’s, if one may judge from the noise they +make.” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa had turned her head towards the street, listening very attentively, but +apparently unwilling to show it. The old maid paused, hoping that one of the +others would question her; and then, in a lower tone, she added: “They +had a woman with them. Oh, I don’t mean Monsieur Quenu, of course! I +didn’t say that; I don’t know—” +</p> + +<p> +“It must be Clemence,” interrupted La Sarriette; “a big +scraggy creature who gives herself all sorts of airs just because she went to +boarding school. She lives with a threadbare usher. I’ve seen them +together; they always look as though they were taking each other off to the +police station.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; I know,” replied the old maid, who, indeed, knew +everything about Charvet and Clemence, and whose only purpose was to alarm +Lisa. +</p> + +<p> +The mistress of the pork shop, however, never flinched. She seemed to be +absorbed in watching something of great interest in the market yonder. +Accordingly the old maid had recourse to stronger measures. “I +think,” said she, addressing herself to Madame Lecœur, “that you +ought to advise your brother-in-law to be careful. Last night they were +shouting out the most shocking things in that little room. Men really seem to +lose their heads over politics. If anyone had heard them, it might have been a +very serious matter for them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! Gavard will go his own way,” sighed Madame Lecœur. “It +only wanted this to fill my cup. I shall die of anxiety, I am sure, if he ever +gets arrested.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke, a gleam shot from her dim eyes. La Sarriette, however, laughed +and wagged her little face, bright with the freshness of the morning air. +</p> + +<p> +“You should hear what Jules says of those who speak against the +Empire,” she remarked. “They ought all to be thrown into the Seine, +he told me; for it seems there isn’t a single respectable person amongst +them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! there’s no harm done, of course, so long as only people like +myself hear their foolish talk,” resumed Mademoiselle Saget. +“I’d rather cut my hand off, you know, than make mischief. Last +night now, for instance, Monsieur Quenu was saying——” +</p> + +<p> +She again paused. Lisa had started slightly. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Quenu was saying that the Ministers and Deputies and all who +are in power ought to be shot.” +</p> + +<p> +At this Lisa turned sharply, her face quite white and her hands clenched +beneath her apron. +</p> + +<p> +“Quenu said that?” she curtly asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed, and several other similar things that I can’t +recollect now. I heard him myself. But don’t distress yourself like that, +Madame Quenu. You know very well that I sha’n’t breathe a word. +I’m quite old enough to know what might harm a man if it came out. Oh, +no; it will go no further.” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa had recovered her equanimity. She took a pride in the happy peacefulness +of her home; she would not acknowledge that there had ever been the slightest +difference between herself and her husband. And so now she shrugged her +shoulders and said with a smile: “Oh, it’s all a pack of foolish +nonsense.” +</p> + +<p> +When the three others were in the street together they agreed that handsome +Lisa had pulled a very doleful face; and they were unanimously of opinion that +the mysterious goings-on of the cousin, the Mehudins, Gavard, and the Quenus +would end in trouble. Madame Lecœur inquired what was done to the people who +got arrested “for politics,” but on this point Mademoiselle Saget +could not enlighten her; she only knew that they were never seen +again—no, never. And this induced La Sarriette to suggest that perhaps +they were thrown into the Seine, as Jules had said they ought to be. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa avoided all reference to the subject at breakfast and dinner that day; and +even in the evening, when Florent and Quenu went off together to Monsieur +Lebigre’s, there was no unwonted severity in her glance. On that +particular evening, however, the question of framing a constitution for the +future came under discussion, and it was one o’clock in the morning +before the politicians could tear themselves away from the little room. The +shutters had already been fastened, and they were obliged to leave by a small +door, passing out one at a time with bent backs. Quenu returned home with an +uneasy conscience. He opened the three or four doors on his way to bed as +gently as possible, walking on tip-toe and stretching out his hands as he +passed through the sitting-room, to avoid a collision with any of the +furniture. The whole house seemed to be asleep. When he reached the bedroom, he +was annoyed to find that Lisa had not extinguished the candle, which was +burning with a tall, mournful flame in the midst of the deep silence. As Quenu +took off his shoes, and put them down in a corner, the time-piece struck half +past one with such a clear, ringing sound that he turned in alarm, almost +frightened to move, and gazing with an expression of angry reproach at the +shining gilded Gutenberg standing there, with his finger on a book. +Lisa’s head was buried in her pillow, and Quenu could only see her back; +but he divined that she was merely feigning sleep, and her conduct in turning +her back upon him was so instinct with reproach that he felt sorely ill at +ease. At last he slipped beneath the bed-clothes, blew out the candle, and lay +perfectly still. He could have sworn that his wife was awake, though she did +not speak to him; and presently he fell asleep, feeling intensely miserable, +and lacking the courage to say good night. +</p> + +<p> +He slept till late, and when he awoke he found himself sprawling in the middle +of the bed with the eider-down quilt up to his chin, whilst Lisa sat in front +of the secrétaire, arranging some papers. His slumber had been so heavy that he +had not heard her rise. However, he now took courage, and spoke to her from the +depths of the alcove: “Why didn’t you wake me? What are you doing +there?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorting the papers in these drawers,” she replied in her +usual tone of voice. +</p> + +<p> +Quenu felt relieved. But Lisa added: “One never knows what may happen. If +the police were to come—” +</p> + +<p> +“What! the police?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed, the police; for you’re mixing yourself up with +politics now.” +</p> + +<p> +At this Quenu sat up in bed, quite dazed and confounded by such a violent and +unexpected attack. +</p> + +<p> +“I mix myself up with politics! I mix myself up with politics!” he +repeated. “It’s no concern of the police. I’ve nothing to do +with any compromising matters.” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” replied Lisa, shrugging her shoulders; “you merely talk +about shooting everybody.” +</p> + +<p> +“I! I!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. And you bawl it out in a public-house! Mademoiselle Saget heard +you. All the neighbourhood knows by this time that you are a Red +Republican!” +</p> + +<p> +Quenu fell back in bed again. He was not perfectly awake as yet. Lisa’s +words resounded in his ears as though he already heard the heavy tramp of +gendarmes at the bedroom door. He looked at her as she sat there, with her hair +already arranged, her figure tightly imprisoned in her stays, her whole +appearance the same as it was on any other morning; and he felt more astonished +than ever that she should be so neat and prim under such extraordinary +circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +“I leave you absolutely free, you know,” she continued, as she went +on arranging the papers. “I don’t want to wear the breeches, as the +saying goes. You are the master, and you are at liberty to endanger your +position, compromise our credit, and ruin our business.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, as Quenu tried to protest, she silenced him with a gesture. “No, +no; don’t say anything,” she continued. “This is no quarrel, +and I am not even asking an explanation from you. But if you had consulted me, +and we had talked the matter over together, I might have intervened. Ah! +it’s a great mistake to imagine that women understand nothing about +politics. Shall I tell you what my politics are?” +</p> + +<p> +She had risen from her seat whilst speaking, and was now walking to and fro +between the bed and the window, wiping as she went some specks of dust from the +bright mahogany of the mirrored wardrobe and the dressing-table. +</p> + +<p> +“My politics are the politics of honest folks,” said she. +“I’m grateful to the Government when business is prosperous, when I +can eat my meals in peace and comfort, and can sleep at nights without being +awakened by the firing of guns. There were pretty times in ‘48, were +there not? You remember our uncle Gradelle, the worthy man, showing us his +books for that year? He lost more than six thousand francs. Now that we have +got the Empire, however, everything prospers. We sell our goods readily enough. +You can’t deny it. Well, then, what is it that you want? How will you be +better off when you have shot everybody?” +</p> + +<p> +She took her stand in front of the little night-table, crossed her arms over +her breast, and fixed her eyes upon Quenu, who had shuffled himself beneath the +bed-clothes, almost out of sight. He attempted to explain what it was that his +friends wanted, but he got quite confused in his endeavours to summarise +Florent’s and Charvet’s political and social systems; and could +only talk about the disregard shown to principles, the accession of the +democracy to power, and the regeneration of society, in such a strange tangled +way that Lisa shrugged her shoulders, quite unable to understand him. At last, +however, he extricated himself from his difficulties by declaring that the +Empire was the reign of licentiousness, swindling finance, and highway robbery. +And, recalling an expression of Logre’s he added: “We are the prey +of a band of adventurers, who are pillaging, violating, and assassinating +France. We’ll have no more of them.” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa, however, still shrugged her shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and is that all you have got to say?” she asked with perfect +coolness. “What has all that got to do with me? Even supposing it were +true, what then? Have I ever advised you to practise dishonest courses? Have I +ever prompted you to dishonour your acceptances, or cheat your customers, or +pile up money by fraudulent practices? Really, you’ll end by making me +quite angry! We are honest folks, and we don’t pillage or assassinate +anybody. That’s quite sufficient. What other folks do is no concern of +ours. If they choose to be rogues it’s their affair.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked quite majestic and triumphant; and again pacing the room, drawing +herself up to her full height, she resumed: “A pretty notion it is that +people are to let their business go to rack and ruin just to please those who +are penniless. For my part, I’m in favour of making hay while the sun +shines, and supporting a Government which promotes trade. If it does do +dishonourable things, I prefer to know nothing about them. I know that I myself +commit none, and that no one in the neighbourhood can point a finger at me. +It’s only fools who go tilting at windmills. At the time of the last +elections, you remember, Gavard said that the Emperor’s candidate had +been bankrupt, and was mixed up in all sorts of scandalous matters. Well, +perhaps that was true, I don’t deny it; but all the same, you acted +wisely in voting for him, for all that was not in question; you were not asked +to lend the man any money or to transact any business with him, but merely to +show the Government that you were pleased with the prosperity of the pork +trade.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment Quenu called to mind a sentence of Charvet’s, asserting +that “the bloated bourgeois, the sleek shopkeepers, who backed up that +Government of universal gormandising, ought to be hurled into the sewers before +all others, for it was owing to them and their gluttonous egotism that tyranny +had succeeded in mastering and preying upon the nation.” He was trying to +complete this piece of eloquence when Lisa, carried off by her indignation, cut +him short. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t talk such stuff! My conscience doesn’t reproach me +with anything. I don’t owe a copper to anybody; I’m not mixed up in +any dishonest business; I buy and sell good sound stuff; and I charge no more +than others do. What you say may perhaps apply to people like our cousins, the +Saccards. They pretend to be even ignorant that I am in Paris; but I am prouder +than they are, and I don’t care a rap for their millions. It’s said +that Saccard speculates in condemned buildings, and cheats and robs everybody. +I’m not surprised to hear it, for he was always that way inclined. He +loves money just for the sake of wallowing in it, and then tossing it out of +his windows, like the imbecile he is. I can understand people attacking men of +his stamp, who pile up excessive fortunes. For my part, if you care to know it, +I have but a bad opinion of Saccard. But we—we who live so quietly and +peaceably, who will need at least fifteen years to put by sufficient money to +make ourselves comfortably independent, we who have no reason to meddle in +politics, and whose only aim is to bring up our daughter respectably, and to +see that our business prospers—why you must be joking to talk such stuff +about us. We are honest folks!” +</p> + +<p> +She came and sat down on the edge of the bed. Quenu was already much shaken in +his opinions. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen to me, now,” she resumed in a more serious voice. +“You surely don’t want to see your own shop pillaged, your cellar +emptied, and your money taken from you? If these men who meet at Monsieur +Lebigre’s should prove triumphant, do you think that you would then lie +as comfortably in your bed as you do now? And on going down into the kitchen, +do you imagine that you would set about making your galantines as peacefully as +you will presently? No, no, indeed! So why do you talk about overthrowing a +Government which protects you, and enables you to put money by? You have a wife +and a daughter, and your first duty is towards them. You would be in fault if +you imperilled their happiness. It is only those who have neither home nor +hearth, who have nothing to lose, who want to be shooting people. Surely you +don’t want to pull the chestnuts out of the fire for <i>them</i>! So stay +quietly at home, you foolish fellow, sleep comfortably, eat well, make money, +keep an easy conscience, and leave France to free herself of the Empire if the +Empire annoys her. France can get on very well without <i>you</i>.” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed her bright melodious laugh as she finished; and Quenu was now +altogether convinced. Yes, she was right, after all; and she looked so +charming, he thought, as she sat there on the edge of the bed, so trim, +although it was so early, so bright, and so fresh in the dazzling whiteness of +her linen. As he listened to her his eyes fell on their portraits hanging on +either side of the fireplace. Yes, they were certainly honest folks; they had +such a respectable, well-to-do air in their black clothes and their gilded +frames! The bedroom, too, looked as though it belonged to people of some +account in the world. The lace squares seemed to give a dignified appearance to +the chairs; and the carpet, the curtains, and the vases decorated with painted +landscapes—all spoke of their exertions to get on in the world and their +taste for comfort. Thereupon he plunged yet further beneath the eider-down +quilt, which kept him in a state of pleasant warmth. He began to feel that he +had risked losing all these things at Monsieur Lebigre’s—his huge +bed, his cosy room, and his business, on which his thoughts now dwelt with +tender remorse. And from Lisa, from the furniture, from all his cosy +surroundings, he derived a sense of comfort which thrilled him with a +delightful, overpowering charm. +</p> + +<p> +“You foolish fellow!” said his wife, seeing that he was now quite +conquered. “A pretty business it was that you’d embarked upon; but +you’d have had to reckon with Pauline and me, I can tell you! And now +don’t bother your head any more about the Government. To begin with, all +Governments are alike, and if we didn’t have this one, we should have +another. A Government is necessary. But the one thing is to be able to live on, +to spend one’s savings in peace and comfort when one grows old, and to +know that one has gained one’s means honestly.” +</p> + +<p> +Quenu nodded his head in acquiescence, and tried to commence a justification of +his conduct. +</p> + +<p> +“It was Gavard—,” he began. +</p> + +<p> +But Lisa’s face again assumed a serious expression, and she interrupted +him sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it was not Gavard. I know very well who it was; and it would be a +great deal better if he would look after his own safety before compromising +that of others.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it Florent you mean?” Quenu timidly inquired after a pause. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa did not immediately reply. She got up and went back to the secrétaire, as +if trying to restrain herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is Florent,” she said presently, in incisive tones. +“You know how patient I am. I would bear almost anything rather than come +between you and your brother. The tie of relationship is a sacred thing. But +the cup is filled to overflowing now. Since your brother came here things have +been constantly getting worse and worse. But now, I won’t say anything +more; it is better that I shouldn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +There was another pause. Then, as her husband gazed up at the ceiling with an +air of embarrassment, she continued, with increased violence: +</p> + +<p> +“Really, he seems to ignore all that we have done for him. We have put +ourselves to great inconvenience for his sake; we have given him +Augustine’s bedroom, and the poor girl sleeps without a murmur in a +stuffy little closet where she can scarcely breathe. We board and lodge him and +give him every attention—but no, he takes it all quite as a matter of +course. He is earning money, but what he does with it nobody knows; or, rather, +one knows only too well.” +</p> + +<p> +“But there’s his share of the inheritance, you know,” Quenu +ventured to say, pained at hearing his brother attacked. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa suddenly stiffened herself as though she were stunned, and her anger +vanished. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you are right; there is his share of the inheritance. Here is the +statement of it, in this drawer. But he refused to take it; you remember, you +were present, and heard him. That only proves that he is a brainless, worthless +fellow. If he had had an idea in his head, he would have made something out of +that money by now. For my own part, I should be very glad to get rid of it; it +would be a relief to us. I have told him so twice, but he won’t listen to +me. You ought to persuade him to take it. Talk to him about it, will +you?” +</p> + +<p> +Quenu growled something in reply; and Lisa refrained from pressing the point +further, being of opinion that she had done all that could be expected of her. +</p> + +<p> +“He is not like other men,” she resumed. “He’s not a +comfortable sort of person to have in the house. I shouldn’t have said +this if we hadn’t got talking on the subject. I don’t busy myself +about his conduct, though it’s setting the whole neighbourhood gossiping +about us. Let him eat and sleep here, and put us about, if he likes; we can get +over that; but what I won’t tolerate is that he should involve us in his +politics. If he tries to lead you off again, or compromises us in the least +degree, I shall turn him out of the house without the least hesitation. I warn +you, and now you understand!” +</p> + +<p> +Florent was doomed. Lisa was making a great effort to restrain herself, to +prevent the animosity which had long been rankling in her heart from flowing +forth. But Florent and his ways jarred against her every instinct; he wounded +her, frightened her, and made her quite miserable. +</p> + +<p> +“A man who has made such a discreditable career,” she murmured, +“who has never been able to get a roof of his own over his head! I can +very well understand his partiality for bullets! He can go and stand in their +way if he chooses; but let him leave honest folks to their families! And then, +he isn’t pleasant to have about one! He reeks of fish in the evening at +dinner! It prevents me from eating. He himself never lets a mouthful go past +him, though it’s little better he seems to be for it all! He can’t +even grow decently stout, the wretched fellow, to such a degree do his bad +instincts prey on him!” +</p> + +<p> +She had stepped up to the window whilst speaking, and now saw Florent crossing +the Rue Rambuteau on his way to the fish market. There was a very large arrival +of fish that morning; the tray-like baskets were covered with rippling silver, +and the auction rooms roared with the hubbub of their sales. Lisa kept her eyes +on the bony shoulders of her brother-in-law as he made his way into the pungent +smells of the market, stooping beneath the sickening sensation which they +brought him; and the glance with which she followed his steps was that of a +woman bent on combat and resolved to be victorious. +</p> + +<p> +When she turned round again, Quenu was getting up. As he sat on the edge of the +bed in his night-shirt, still warm from the pleasant heat of the eider-down +quilt and with his feet resting on the soft fluffy rug below him, he looked +quite pale, quite distressed at the misunderstanding between his wife and his +brother. Lisa, however, gave him one of her sweetest smiles, and he felt deeply +touched when she handed him his socks. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap04"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<p> +Marjolin had been found in a heap of cabbages at the Market of the Innocents. +He was sleeping under the shelter of a large white-hearted one, a broad leaf of +which concealed his rosy childish face It was never known what poverty-stricken +mother had laid him there. When he was found he was already a fine little +fellow of two or three years of age, very plump and merry, but so backward and +dense that he could scarcely stammer a few words, and only seemed able to +smile. When one of the vegetable saleswomen found him lying under the big white +cabbage she raised such a loud cry of surprise that her neighbours rushed up to +see what was the matter, while the youngster, still in petticoats, and wrapped +in a scrap of old blanket, held out his arms towards her. He could not tell who +his mother was, but opened his eyes in wide astonishment as he squeezed against +the shoulder of a stout tripe dealer who eventually took him up. The whole +market busied itself about him throughout the day. He soon recovered +confidence, ate slices of bread and butter, and smiled at all the women. The +stout tripe dealer kept him for a time, then a neighbour took him; and a month +later a third woman gave him shelter. When they asked him where his mother was, +he waved his little hand with a pretty gesture which embraced all the women +present. He became the adopted child of the place, always clinging to the +skirts of one or another of the women, and always finding a corner of a bed and +a share of a meal somewhere. Somehow, too, he managed to find clothes, and he +even had a copper or two at the bottom of his ragged pockets. It was a buxom, +ruddy girl dealing in medicinal herbs who gave him the name of Marjolin,[*] +though no one knew why. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] Literally “Marjoram.” +</p> + +<p> +When Marjolin was nearly four years of age, old Mother Chantemesse also +happened to find a child, a little girl, lying on the footway of the Rue Saint +Denis, near the corner of the market. Judging by the little one’s size, +she seemed to be a couple of years old, but she could already chatter like a +magpie, murdering her words in an incessant childish babble. Old Mother +Chantemesse after a time gathered that her name was Cadine, and that on the +previous evening her mother had left her sitting on a doorstep, with +instructions to wait till she returned. The child had fallen asleep there, and +did not cry. She related that she was beaten at home; and she gladly followed +Mother Chantemesse, seemingly quite enchanted with that huge square, where +there were so many people and such piles of vegetables. Mother Chantemesse, a +retail dealer by trade, was a crusty but very worthy woman, approaching her +sixtieth year. She was extremely fond of children, and had lost three boys of +her own when they were mere babies. She came to the opinion that the chit she +had found “was far too wide awake to kick the bucket,” and so she +adopted her. +</p> + +<p> +One evening, however, as she was going off home with her right hand clasping +Cadine’s, Marjolin came up and unceremoniously caught hold of her left +hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Nay, my lad,” said the old woman, stopping, “the place is +filled. Have you left your big Therese, then? What a fickle little gadabout you +are!” +</p> + +<p> +The boy gazed at her with his smiling eyes, without letting go of her hand. He +looked so pretty with his curly hair that she could not resist him. +“Well, come along, then, you little scamp,” said she; +“I’ll put you to bed as well.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus she made her appearance in the Rue au Lard, where she lived, with a child +clinging to either hand. Marjolin made himself quite at home there. When the +two children proved too noisy the old woman cuffed them, delighted to shout and +worry herself, and wash the youngsters, and pack them away beneath the +blankets. She had fixed them up a little bed in an old costermonger’s +barrow, the wheels and shafts of which had disappeared. It was like a big +cradle, a trifle hard, but retaining a strong scent of the vegetables which it +had long kept fresh and cool beneath a covering of damp cloths. And there, when +four years old, Cadine and Marjolin slept locked in each other’s arms. +</p> + +<p> +They grew up together, and were always to be seen with their arms about one +another’s waist. At night time old Mother Chantemesse heard them +prattling softly. Cadine’s clear treble went chattering on for hours +together, while Marjolin listened with occasional expressions of astonishment +vented in a deeper tone. The girl was a mischievous young creature, and +concocted all sorts of stories to frighten her companion; telling him, for +instance, that she had one night seen a man, dressed all in white, looking at +them and putting out a great red tongue, at the foot of the bed. Marjolin quite +perspired with terror, and anxiously asked for further particulars; but the +girl would then begin to jeer at him, and end by calling him a big donkey. At +other times they were not so peaceably disposed, but kicked each other beneath +the blankets. Cadine would pull up her legs, and try to restrain her laughter +as Marjolin missed his aim, and sent his feet banging against the wall. When +this happened, old Madame Chantemesse was obliged to get up to put the +bed-clothes straight again; and, by way of sending the children to sleep, she +would administer a box on the ear to both of them. For a long time their bed +was a sort of playground. They carried their toys into it, and munched stolen +carrots and turnips as they lay side by side. Every morning their adopted +mother was amazed at the strange things she found in the bed—pebbles, +leaves, apple cores, and dolls made out of scraps of rags. When the very cold +weather came, she went off to her work, leaving them sleeping there, +Cadine’s black mop mingling with Marjolin’s sunny curls, and their +mouths so near together that they looked as though they were keeping each other +warm with their breath. +</p> + +<p> +The room in the Rue au Lard was a big, dilapidated garret, with a single +window, the panes of which were dimmed by the rain. The children would play at +hide-and-seek in the tall walnut wardrobe and underneath Mother +Chantemesse’s colossal bed. There were also two or three tables in the +room, and they crawled under these on all fours. They found the place a very +charming playground, on account of the dim light and the vegetables scattered +about in the dark corners. The street itself, too, narrow and very quiet, with +a broad arcade opening into the Rue de la Lingerie, provided them with plenty +of entertainment. The door of the house was by the side of the arcade; it was a +low door and could only be opened half way owing to the near proximity of the +greasy corkscrew staircase. The house, which had a projecting pent roof and a +bulging front, dark with damp, and displaying greenish drain-sinks near the +windows of each floor, also served as a big toy for the young couple. They +spent their mornings below in throwing stones up into the drain-sinks, and the +stones thereupon fell down the pipes with a very merry clatter. In thus amusing +themselves, however, they managed to break a couple of windows, and filled the +drains with stones, so that Mother Chantemesse, who had lived in the house for +three and forty years, narrowly escaped being turned out of it. +</p> + +<p> +Cadine and Marjolin then directed their attention to the vans and drays and +tumbrels which were drawn up in the quiet street. They clambered on to the +wheels, swung from the dangling chains, and larked about amongst the piles of +boxes and hampers. Here also were the back premises of the commission agents of +the Rue de la Poterie—huge, gloomy warehouses, each day filled and +emptied afresh, and affording a constant succession of delightful +hiding-places, where the youngsters buried themselves amidst the scent of dried +fruits, oranges, and fresh apples. When they got tired of playing in his way, +they went off to join old Madame Chantemesse at the Market of the Innocents. +They arrived there arm-in-arm, laughing gaily as they crossed the streets with +never the slightest fear of being run over by the endless vehicles. They knew +the pavement well, and plunged their little legs knee-deep in the vegetable +refuse without ever slipping. They jeered merrily at any porter in heavy boots +who, in stepping over an artichoke stem, fell sprawling full-length upon the +ground. They were the rosy-cheeked familiar spirits of those greasy streets. +They were to be seen everywhere. +</p> + +<p> +On rainy days they walked gravely beneath the shelter of a ragged old umbrella, +with which Mother Chantemesse had protected her stock-in-trade for twenty +years, and sticking it up in a corner of the market they called it their house. +On sunny days they romped to such a degree that when evening came they were +almost too tired to move. They bathed their feet in the fountains, dammed up +the gutters, or hid themselves beneath piles of vegetables, and remained there +prattling to each other just as they did in bed at night. People passing some +huge mountain of cos or cabbage lettuces often heard a muffled sound of chatter +coming from it. And when the green-stuff was removed, the two children would be +discovered lying side by side on their couch of verdure, their eyes glistening +uneasily like those of birds discovered in the depth of a thicket. As time went +on, Cadine could not get along without Marjolin, and Marjolin began to cry when +he lost sight of Cadine. If they happened to get separated, they sought one +another behind the petticoats of every stallkeeper in the markets, amongst the +boxes and under the cabbages. If was, indeed, chiefly under the cabbages that +they grew up and learned to love each other. +</p> + +<p> +Marjolin was nearly eight years old, and Cadine six, when old Madame +Chantemesse began to reproach them for their idleness. She told them that she +would interest them in her business, and pay them a sou a day to assist her in +paring her vegetables. During the first few days the children displayed eager +zeal; they squatted down on either side of the big flat basket with little +knives in their hands, and worked away energetically. Mother Chantemesse made a +specialty of pared vegetables; on her stall, covered with a strip of damp black +lining, were little lots of potatoes, turnips, carrots, and white onions, +arranged in pyramids of four—three at the base and one at the apex, all +quite ready to be popped into the pans of dilatory housewives. She also had +bundles duly stringed in readiness for the soup-pot—four leeks, three +carrots, a parsnip, two turnips, and a couple of springs of celery. Then there +were finely cut vegetables for julienne soup laid out on squares of paper, +cabbages cut into quarters, and little heaps of tomatoes and slices of pumpkin +which gleamed like red stars and golden crescents amidst the pale hues of the +other vegetables. Cadine evinced much more dexterity than Marjolin, although +she was younger. The peelings of the potatoes she pared were so thin that you +could see through them; she tied up the bundles for the soup-pot so +artistically that they looked like bouquets; and she had a way of making the +little heaps she set up, though they contained but three carrots or turnips, +look like very big ones. The passers-by would stop and smile when she called +out in her shrill childish voice: “Madame! madame! come and try me! Each +little pile for two sous.” +</p> + +<p> +She had her regular customers, and her little piles and bundles were widely +known. Old Mother Chantemesse, seated between the two children, would indulge +in a silent laugh which made her bosom rise almost to her chin, at seeing them +working away so seriously. She paid them their daily sous most faithfully. But +they soon began to weary of the little heaps and bundles; they were growing up, +and began to dream of some more lucrative business. Marjolin remained very +childish for his years, and this irritated Cadine. He had no more brains than a +cabbage, she often said. And it was, indeed, quite useless for her to devise +any plan for him to make money; he never earned any. He could not even do an +errand satisfactorily. The girl, on the other hand, was very shrewd. When but +eight years old she obtained employment from one of those women who sit on a +bench in the neighbourhood of the markets provided with a basket of lemons, and +employ a troop of children to go about selling them. Carrying the lemons in her +hands and offering them at two for three sous, Cadine thrust them under every +woman’s nose, and ran after every passer-by. Her hands empty, she +hastened back for a fresh supply. She was paid two sous for every dozen lemons +that she sold, and on good days she could earn some five or six sous. During +the following year she hawked caps at nine sous apiece, which proved a more +profitable business; only she had to keep a sharp look-out, as street trading +of this kind is forbidden unless one be licensed. However, she scented a +policeman at a distance of a hundred yards; and the caps forthwith disappeared +under her skirts, whilst she began to munch an apple with an air of guileless +innocence. Then she took to selling pastry, cakes, cherry-tarts, gingerbread, +and thick yellow maize biscuits on wicker trays. Marjolin, however, ate up +nearly the whole of her stock-in-trade. At last, when she was eleven years old, +she succeeded in realising a grand idea which had long been worrying her. In a +couple of months she put by four francs, bought a small <i>hotte</i>,[*] and +then set up as a dealer in birds’ food. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] A basket carried on the back.—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +It was a big affair. She got up early in the morning and purchased her stock of +groundsel, millet, and bird-cake from the wholesale dealers. Then she set out +on her day’s work, crossing the river, and perambulating the Latin +Quarter from the Rue Saint Jacques to the Rue Dauphine, and even to the +Luxembourg. Marjolin used to accompany her, but she would not let him carry the +basket. He was only fit to call out, she said; and so, in his thick, drawling +voice, he would raise the cry, “Chickweed for the little birds!” +</p> + +<p> +Then Cadine herself, with her flute-like voice, would start on a strange scale +of notes ending in a clear, protracted alto, “Chickweed for the little +birds!” +</p> + +<p> +They each took one side of the road, and looked up in the air as they walked +along. In those days Marjolin wore a big scarlet waistcoat which hung down to +his knees; it had belonged to the defunct Monsieur Chantemesse, who had been a +cab-driver. Cadine for her part wore a white and blue check gown, made out of +an old tartan of Madame Chantemesse’s. All the canaries in the garrets of +the Latin Quarter knew them; and, as they passed along, repeating their cry, +each echoing the other’s voice, every cage poured out a song. +</p> + +<p> +Cadine sold water-cress, too. “Two sous a bunch! Two sous a bunch!” +And Marjolin went into the shops to offer it for sale. “Fine water-cress! +Health for the body! Fine fresh water-cress!” +</p> + +<p> +However, the new central markets had just been erected, and the girl would +stand gazing in ecstacy at the avenue of flower stalls which runs through the +fruit pavilion. Here on either hand, from end to end, big clumps of flowers +bloom as in the borders of a garden walk. It is a perfect harvest, sweet with +perfume, a double hedge of blossoms, between which the girls of the +neighbourhood love to walk, smiling the while, though almost stifled by the +heavy perfume. And on the top tiers of the stalls are artificial flowers, with +paper leaves, in which dewdrops are simulated by drops of gum; and memorial +wreaths of black and white beads rippling with bluish reflections. +Cadine’s rosy nostrils would dilate with feline sensuality; she would +linger as long as possible in that sweet freshness, and carry as much of the +perfume away with her as she could. When her hair bobbed under Marjolin’s +nose he would remark that it smelt of pinks. She said that she had given over +using pomatum; that is was quite sufficient for her to stroll through the +flower walk in order to scent her hair. Next she began to intrigue and scheme +with such success that she was engaged by one of the stallkeepers. And then +Marjolin declared that she smelt sweet from head to foot. She lived in the +midst of roses, lilacs, wall-flowers, and lilies of the valley; and Marjolin +would playfully smell at her skirts, feign a momentary hesitation, and then +exclaim, “Ah, that’s lily of the valley!” Next he would sniff +at her waist and bodice: “Ah, that’s wall-flowers!” And at +her sleeves and wrists: “Ah, that’s lilac!” And at her neck, +and her cheeks and lips: “Ah, but that’s roses!” he would +cry. Cadine used to laugh at him, and call him a “silly stupid,” +and tell him to get away, because he was tickling her with the tip of his nose. +As she spoke her breath smelt of jasmine. She was verily a bouquet, full of +warmth and life. +</p> + +<p> +She now got up at four o’clock every morning to assist her mistress in +her purchases. Each day they bought armfuls of flowers from the suburban +florists, with bundles of moss, and bundles of fern fronds, and periwinkle +leaves to garnish the bouquets. Cadine would gaze with amazement at the +diamonds and Valenciennes worn by the daughters of the great gardeners of +Montreuil, who came to the markets amidst their roses. +</p> + +<p> +On the saints’ days of popular observance, such as Saint Mary’s, +Saint Peter’s, and Saint Joseph’s days, the sale of flowers began +at two o’clock. More than a hundred thousand francs’ worth of cut +flowers would be sold on the footways, and some of the retail dealers would +make as much as two hundred francs in a few hours. On days like those only +Cadine’s curly locks peered over the mounds of pansies, mignonette, and +marguerites. She was quite drowned and lost in the flood of flowers. Then she +would spend all her time in mounting bouquets on bits of rush. In a few weeks +she acquired considerable skillfulness in her business, and manifested no +little originality. Her bouquets did not always please everybody, however. +Sometimes they made one smile, sometimes they alarmed the eyes. Red +predominated in them, mottled with violent tints of blue, yellow, and violet of +a barbaric charm. On the mornings when she pinched Marjolin, and teased him +till she made him cry, she made up fierce-looking bouquets, suggestive of her +own bad temper, bouquets with strong rough scents and glaring irritating +colours. On other days, however, when she was softened by some thrill of joy or +sorrow, her bouquets would assume a tone of silvery grey, very soft and +subdued, and delicately perfumed. +</p> + +<p> +Then, too, she would set roses, as sanguineous as open hearts, in lakes of +snow-white pinks; arrange bunches of tawny iris that shot up in tufts of flame +from foliage that seemed scared by the brilliance of the flowers; work +elaborate designs, as complicated as those of Smyrna rugs, adding flower to +flower, as on a canvas; and prepare rippling fanlike bouquets spreading out +with all the delicacy of lace. Here was a cluster of flowers of delicious +purity, there a fat nosegay, whatever one might dream of for the hand of a +marchioness or a fish-wife; all the charming quaint fancies, in short, which +the brain of a sharp-witted child of twelve, budding into womanhood, could +devise. +</p> + +<p> +There were only two flowers for which Cadine retained respect; white lilac, +which by the bundle of eight or ten sprays cost from fifteen to twenty francs +in the winter time; and camellias, which were still more costly, and arrived in +boxes of a dozen, lying on beds of moss, and covered with cotton wool. She +handled these as delicately as though they were jewels, holding her breath for +fear of dimming their lustre, and fastening their short stems to springs of +cane with the tenderest care. She spoke of them with serious reverence. She +told Marjolin one day that a speckless white camellia was a very rare and +exceptionally lovely thing, and, as she was making him admire one, he +exclaimed: “Yes; it’s pretty; but I prefer your neck, you know. +It’s much more soft and transparent than the camellia, and there are some +little blue and pink veins just like the pencillings on a flower.” Then, +drawing near and sniffing, he murmured: “Ah! you smell of orange blossom +to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +Cadine was self-willed, and did not get on well in the position of a servant, +so she ended by setting up in business on her own account. As she was only +thirteen at the time, and could not hope for a big trade and a stall in the +flower avenue, she took to selling one-sou bunches of violets pricked into a +bed of moss in an osier tray which she carried hanging from her neck. All day +long she wandered about the markets and their precincts with her little bit of +hanging garden. She loved this continual stroll, which relieved the numbness of +her limbs after long hours spent, with bent knees, on a low chair, making +bouquets. She fastened her violets together with marvellous deftness as she +walked along. She counted out six or eight flowers, according to the season, +doubled a sprig of cane in half, added a leaf, twisted some damp thread round +the whole, and broke off the thread with her strong young teeth. The little +bunches seemed to spring spontaneously from the layer of moss, so rapidly did +she stick them into it. +</p> + +<p> +Along the footways, amidst the jostling of the street traffic, her nimble +fingers were ever flowering though she gave them not a glance, but boldly +scanned the shops and passers-by. Sometimes she would rest in a doorway for a +moment; and alongside the gutters, greasy with kitchen slops, she sat, as it +were a patch of springtime, a suggestion of green woods, and purple blossoms. +Her flowers still betokened her frame of mind, her fits of bad temper and her +thrills of tenderness. Sometimes they bristled and glowered with anger amidst +their crumpled leaves; at other times they spoke only of love and peacefulness +as they smiled in their prim collars. As Cadine passed along, she left a sweet +perfume behind her; Marjolin followed her devoutly. From head to foot she now +exhaled but one scent, and the lad repeated that she was herself a violet, a +great big violet. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you remember the day when we went to Romainville together?” he +would say; “Romainville, where there are so many violets. The scent was +just the same. Oh! don’t change again—you smell too sweetly.” +</p> + +<p> +And she did not change again. This was her last trade. Still, she often +neglected her osier tray to go rambling about the neighbourhood. The building +of the central markets—as yet incomplete—provided both children +with endless opportunities for amusement. They made their way into the midst of +the work-yards through some gap or other between the planks; they descended +into the foundations, and climbed up to the cast-iron pillars. Every nook, +every piece of the framework witnessed their games and quarrels; the pavilions +grew up under the touch of their little hands. From all this arose the +affection which they felt for the great markets, and which the latter seemed to +return. They were on familiar terms with that gigantic pile, old friends as +they were, who had seen each pin and bolt put into place. They felt no fear of +the huge monster; but slapped it with their childish hands, treated it like a +good friend, a chum whose presence brought no constraint. And the markets +seemed to smile at these two light-hearted children, whose love was the song, +the idyll of their immensity. +</p> + +<p> +Cadine alone now slept at Mother Chantemesse’s. The old woman had packed +Marjolin off to a neighbour’s. This made the two children very unhappy. +Still, they contrived to spend much of their time together. In the daytime they +would hide themselves away in the warehouses of the Rue au Lard, behind piles +of apples and cases of oranges; and in the evening they would dive into the +cellars beneath the poultry market, and secret themselves among the huge +hampers of feathers which stood near the blocks where the poultry was killed. +They were quite alone there, amidst the strong smell of the poultry, and with +never a sound but the sudden crowing of some rooster to break upon their babble +and their laughter. The feathers amidst which they found themselves were of all +sorts—turkey’s feathers, long and black; goose quills, white and +flexible; the downy plumage of ducks, soft like cotton wool; and the ruddy and +mottled feathers of fowls, which at the faintest breath flew up in a cloud like +a swarm of flies buzzing in the sun. And then in wintertime there was the +purple plumage of the pheasants, the ashen grey of the larks, the splotched +silk of the partridges, quails, and thrushes. And all these feathers freshly +plucked were still warm and odoriferous, seemingly endowed with life. The spot +was as cosy as a nest; at times a quiver as of flapping wings sped by, and +Marjolin and Cadine, nestling amidst all the plumage, often imagined that they +were being carried aloft by one of those huge birds with outspread pinions that +one hears of in the fairy tales. +</p> + +<p> +As time went on their childish affection took the inevitable turn. Veritable +offsprings of Nature, knowing naught of social conventions and restraints, they +loved one another in all innocence and guilelessness. They mated even as the +birds of the air mate, even as youth and maid mated in primeval times, because +such is Nature’s law. At sixteen Cadine was a dusky town gipsy, greedy +and sensual, whilst Marjolin, now eighteen, was a tall, strapping fellow, as +handsome a youth as could be met, but still with his mental faculties quite +undeveloped. He had lived, indeed, a mere animal life, which had strengthened +his frame, but left his intellect in a rudimentary state. +</p> + +<p> +When old Madame Chantemesse realised the turn that things were taking she +wrathfully upbraided Cadine and struck out vigorously at her with her broom. +But the hussy only laughed and dodged the blows, and then hied off to her +lover. And gradually the markets became their home, their manger, their aviary, +where they lived and loved amidst the meat, the butter, the vegetables, and the +feathers. +</p> + +<p> +They discovered another little paradise in the pavilion where butter, eggs, and +cheese were sold wholesale. Enormous walls of empty baskets were here piled up +every morning, and amidst these Cadine and Marjolin burrowed and hollowed out a +dark lair for themselves. A mere partition of osier-work separated them from +the market crowd, whose loud voices rang out all around them. They often shook +with laughter when people, without the least suspicion of their presence, +stopped to talk together a few yards away from them. On these occasions they +would contrive peepholes, and spy through them, and when cherries were in +season Cadine tossed the stones in the faces of all the old women who passed +along—a pastime which amused them the more as the startled old crones +could never make out whence the hail of cherry-stones had come. They also +prowled about the depths of the cellars, knowing every gloomy corner of them, +and contriving to get through the most carefully locked gates. One of their +favourite amusements was to visit the track of the subterranean railway, which +had been laid under the markets, and which those who planned the latter had +intended to connect with the different goods’ stations of Paris. Sections +of this railway were laid beneath each of the covered ways, between the cellars +of each pavilion; the work, indeed, was in such an advanced state that +turn-tables had been put into position at all the points of intersection, and +were in readiness for use. After much examination, Cadine and Marjolin had at +last succeeded in discovering a loose plank in the hoarding which enclosed the +track, and they had managed to convert it into a door, by which they could +easily gain access to the line. There they were quite shut off from the world, +though they could hear the continuous rumbling of the street traffic over their +heads. +</p> + +<p> +The line stretched through deserted vaults, here and there illumined by a +glimmer of light filtering through iron gratings, while in certain dark corners +gas jets were burning. And Cadine and Marjolin rambled about as in the secret +recesses of some castle of their own, secure from all interruption, and +rejoicing in the buzzy silence, the murky glimmer, and subterranean secrecy, +which imparted a touch of melodrama to their experiences. All sorts of smells +were wafted through the hoarding from the neighbouring cellars; the musty smell +of vegetables, the pungency of fish, the overpowering stench of cheese, and the +warm reek of poultry. +</p> + +<p> +At other times, on clear nights and fine dawns, they would climb on to the +roofs, ascending thither by the steep staircases of the turrets at the angles +of the pavilions. Up above they found fields of leads, endless promenades and +squares, a stretch of undulating country which belonged to them. They rambled +round the square roofs of the pavilions, followed the course of the long roofs +of the covered ways, climbed and descended the slopes, and lost themselves in +endless perambulations of discovery. And when they grew tired of the lower +levels they ascended still higher, venturing up the iron ladders, on which +Cadine’s skirts flapped like flags. Then they ran along the second tier +of roofs beneath the open heavens. There was nothing save the stars above them. +All sorts of sounds rose up from the echoing markets, a clattering and +rumbling, a vague roar as of a distant tempest heard at nighttime. At that +height the morning breeze swept away the evil smells, the foul breath of the +awaking markets. They would kiss one another on the edge of the gutterings like +sparrows frisking on the house-tops. The rising fires of the sun illumined +their faces with a ruddy glow. Cadine laughed with pleasure at being so high up +in the air, and her neck shone with iridescent tints like a dove’s; while +Marjolin bent down to look at the street still wrapped in gloom, with his hands +clutching hold of the leads like the feet of a wood-pigeon. When they descended +to earth again, joyful from their excursion in the fresh air, they would remark +to one another that they were coming back from the country. +</p> + +<p> +It was in the tripe market that they had made the acquaintance of Claude +Lantier. They went there every day, impelled thereto by an animal taste for +blood, the cruel instinct of urchins who find amusement in the sight of severed +heads. A ruddy stream flowed along the gutters round the pavilion; they dipped +the tips of their shoes in it, and dammed it up with leaves, so as to form +large pools of blood. They took a strong interest in the arrival of the loads +of offal in carts which always smelt offensively, despite all the drenchings of +water they got; they watched the unloading of the bundles of sheep’s +trotters, which were piled up on the ground like filthy paving-stones, of the +huge stiffened tongues, bleeding at their torn roots, and of the massive +bell-shaped bullocks’ hearts. But the spectacle which, above all others, +made them quiver with delight was that of the big dripping hampers, full of +sheep’s heads, with greasy horns and black muzzles, and strips of woolly +skin dangling from bleeding flesh. The sight of these conjured up in their +minds the idea of some guillotine casting into the baskets the heads of +countless victims. +</p> + +<p> +They followed the baskets into the depths of the cellar, watching them glide +down the rails laid over the steps, and listening to the rasping noise which +the casters of these osier waggons made in their descent. Down below there was +a scene of exquisite horror. They entered into a charnel-house atmosphere, and +walked along through murky puddles, amidst which every now and then purple eyes +seem to be glistening. At times the soles of their boots stuck to the ground, +at others they splashed through the horrible mire, anxious and yet delighted. +The gas jets burned low, like blinking, bloodshot eyes. Near the water-taps, in +the pale light falling through the gratings, they came upon the blocks; and +there they remained in rapture watching the tripe men, who, in aprons stiffened +by gory splashings, broke the sheep’s heads one after another with a blow +of their mallets. They lingered there for hours, waiting till all the baskets +were empty, fascinated by the crackling of the bones, unable to tear themselves +away till all was over. Sometimes an attendant passed behind them, cleansing +the cellar with a hose; floods of water rushed out with a sluice-like roar, but +although the violence of the discharge actually ate away the surface of the +flagstones, it was powerless to remove the ruddy stains and stench of blood. +</p> + +<p> +Cadine and Marjolin were sure of meeting Claude between four and five in the +afternoon at the wholesale auction of the bullocks’ lights. He was always +there amidst the tripe dealers’ carts backed up against the kerb-stones +and the blue-bloused, white-aproned men who jostled him and deafened his ears +by their loud bids. But he never felt their elbows; he stood in a sort of +ecstatic trance before the huge hanging lights, and often told Cadine and +Marjolin that there was no finer sight to be seen. The lights were of a soft +rosy hue, gradually deepening and turning at the lower edges to a rich carmine; +and Claude compared them to watered satin, finding no other term to describe +the soft silkiness of those flowing lengths of flesh which drooped in broad +folds like ballet dancers’ skirts. He thought, too, of gauze and lace +allowing a glimpse of pinky skin; and when a ray of sunshine fell upon the +lights and girdled them with gold an expression of languorous rapture came into +his eyes, and he felt happier than if he had been privileged to contemplate the +Greek goddesses in their sovereign nudity, or the chatelaines of romance in +their brocaded robes. +</p> + +<p> +The artist became a great friend of the two young scapegraces. He loved +beautiful animals, and such undoubtedly they were. For a long time he dreamt of +a colossal picture which should represent the loves of Cadine and Marjolin in +the central markets, amidst the vegetables, the fish, and the meat. He would +have depicted them seated on some couch of food, their arms circling each +other’s waists, and their lips exchanging an idyllic kiss. In this +conception he saw a manifesto proclaiming the positivism of art—modern +art, experimental and materialistic. And it seemed to him also that it would be +a smart satire on the school which wishes every painting to embody an +“idea,” a slap for the old traditions and all they represented. But +during a couple of years he began study after study without succeeding in +giving the particular “note” he desired. In this way he spoilt +fifteen canvases. His failure filled him with rancour; however, he continued to +associate with his two models from a sort of hopeless love for his abortive +picture. When he met them prowling about in the afternoon, he often scoured the +neighbourhood with them, strolling around with his hands in his pockets, and +deeply interested in the life of the streets. +</p> + +<p> +They all three trudged along together, dragging their heels over the footways +and monopolising their whole breadth so as to force others to step down into +the road. With their noses in the air they sniffed in the odours of Paris, and +could have recognised every corner blindfold by the spirituous emanations of +the wine shops, the hot puffs that came from the bakehouses and +confectioners’, and the musty odours wafted from the fruiterers’. +They would make the circuit of the whole district. They delighted in passing +through the rotunda of the corn market, that huge massive stone cage where +sacks of flour were piled up on every side, and where their footsteps echoed in +the silence of the resonant roof. They were fond, too, of the little narrow +streets in the neighbourhood, which had become as deserted, as black, and as +mournful as though they formed part of an abandoned city. These were the Rue +Babille, the Rue Sauval, the Rue des Deux Ecus, and the Rue de Viarmes, this +last pallid from its proximity to the millers’ stores, and at four +o’clock lively by reason of the corn exchange held there. It was +generally at this point that they started on their round. They made their way +slowly along the Rue Vauvilliers, glancing as they went at the windows of the +low eating-houses, and thus reaching the miserably narrow Rue des Prouvaires, +where Claude blinked his eyes as he saw one of the covered ways of the market, +at the far end of which, framed round by this huge iron nave, appeared a side +entrance of St. Eustache with its rose and its tiers of arched windows. And +then, with an air of defiance, he would remark that all the middle ages and the +Renaissance put together were less mighty than the central markets. Afterwards, +as they paced the broad new streets, the Rue du Pont Neuf and the Rue des +Halles, he explained modern life with its wide footways, its lofty houses, and +its luxurious shops, to the two urchins. He predicted, too, the advent of new +and truly original art, whose approach he could divine, and despair filled him +that its revelation should seemingly be beyond his own powers. +</p> + +<p> +Cadine and Marjolin, however, preferred the provincial quietness of the Rue des +Bourdonnais, where one can play at marbles without fear of being run over. The +girl perked her head affectedly as she passed the wholesale glove and hosiery +stores, at each door of which bareheaded assistants, with their pens stuck in +their ears, stood watching her with a weary gaze. And she and her lover had yet +a stronger preference for such bits of olden Paris as still existed: the Rue de +la Poterie and the Rue de la Lingerie, with their butter and egg and cheese +dealers; the Rue de la Ferronerie and the Rue de l’Aiguillerie (the +beautiful streets of far-away times), with their dark narrow shops; and +especially the Rue Courtalon, a dank, dirty by-way running from the Place +Sainte Opportune to the Rue Saint Denis, and intersected by foul-smelling +alleys where they had romped in their younger days. In the Rue Saint Denis they +entered into the land of dainties; and they smiled upon the dried apples, the +“Spanishwood,” the prunes, and the sugar-candy in the windows of +the grocers and druggists. Their ramblings always set them dreaming of a feast +of good things, and inspired them with a desire to glut themselves on the +contents of the windows. To them the district seemed like some huge table, +always laid with an everlasting dessert into which they longed to plunge their +fingers. +</p> + +<p> +They devoted but a moment to visiting the other blocks of tumble-down old +houses, the Rue Pirouette, the Rue de Mondetour, the Rue de la Petite +Truanderie, and the Rue de la Grande Truanderie, for they took little interest +in the shops of the dealers in edible snails, cooked vegetables, tripe, and +drink. In the Rue de la Grand Truanderie, however, there was a soap factory, an +oasis of sweetness in the midst of all the foul odours, and Marjolin was fond +of standing outside it till some one happened to enter or come out, so that the +perfume which swept through the doorway might blow full in his face. Then with +all speed they returned to the Rue Pierre Lescot and the Rue Rambuteau. Cadine +was extremely fond of salted provisions; she stood in admiration before the +bundles of red-herrings, the barrels of anchovies and capers, and the little +casks of gherkins and olives, standing on end with wooden spoons inside them. +The smell of the vinegar titillated her throat; the pungent odour of the rolled +cod, smoked salmon, bacon and ham, and the sharp acidity of the baskets of +lemons, made her mouth water longingly. She was also fond of feasting her eyes +on the boxes of sardines piled up in metallic columns amidst the cases and +sacks. In the Rue Montorgueil and the Rue Montmartre were other +tempting-looking groceries and restaurants, from whose basements appetising +odours were wafted, with glorious shows of game and poultry, and +preserved-provision shops, which last displayed beside their doors open kegs +overflowing with yellow sour-krout suggestive of old lacework. Then they +lingered in the Rue Coquillière, inhaling the odour of truffles from the +premises of a notable dealer in comestibles, which threw so strong a perfume +into the street that Cadine and Marjolin closed their eyes and imagined they +were swallowing all kinds of delicious things. These perfumes, however, +distressed Claude. They made him realise the emptiness of his stomach, he said; +and, leaving the “two animals” to feast on the odour of the +truffles—the most penetrating odour to be found in all the +neighbourhood—he went off again to the corn market by way of the Rue +Oblin, studying on his road the old women who sold green-stuff in the doorways +and the displays of cheap pottery spread out on the foot-pavements. +</p> + +<p> +Such were their rambles in common; but when Cadine set out alone with her +bunches of violets she often went farther afield, making it a point to visit +certain shops for which she had a particular partiality. She had an especial +weakness for the Taboureau bakery establishment, one of the windows of which +was exclusively devoted to pastry. She would follow the Rue Turbigo and retrace +her steps a dozen times in order to pass again and again before the almond +cakes, the <i>savarins</i>, the St. Honoré tarts, the fruit tarts, and the +various dishes containing bunlike <i>babas</i> redolent of rum, eclairs +combining the finger biscuit with chocolate, and <i>choux a la crème</i>, +little rounds of pastry overflowing with whipped white of egg. The glass jars +full of dry biscuits, macaroons, and <i>madeleines</i> also made her mouth +water; and the bright shop with its big mirrors, its marble slabs, its gilding, +its bread-bins of ornamental ironwork, and its second window in which long +glistening loaves were displayed slantwise, with one end resting on a crystal +shelf whilst above they were upheld by a brass rod, was so warm and odoriferous +of baked dough that her features expanded with pleasure when, yielding to +temptation, she went in to buy a <i>brioche</i> for two sous. +</p> + +<p> +Another shop, one in front of the Square des Innocents, also filled her with +gluttonous inquisitiveness, a fever of longing desire. This shop made a +specialty of forcemeat pasties. In addition to the ordinary ones there were +pasties of pike and pasties of truffled <i>foie gras</i>; and the girl would +gaze yearningly at them, saying to herself that she would really have to eat +one some day. +</p> + +<p> +Cadine also had her moments of vanity and coquetry. When these fits were on +her, she bought herself in imagination some of the magnificent dresses +displayed in the windows of the “Fabriques de France” which made +the Pointe Saint Eustache gaudy with their pieces of bright stuff hanging from +the first floor to the footway and flapping in the breeze. Somewhat incommoded +by the flat basket hanging before her, amidst the crowd of market women in +dirty aprons gazing at future Sunday dresses, the girl would feel the woollens, +flannels, and cottons to test the texture and suppleness of the material; and +she would promise herself a gown of bright-coloured flannelling, flowered +print, or scarlet poplin. Sometimes even from amongst the pieces draped and set +off to advantage by the window-dressers she would choose some soft sky-blue or +apple-green silk, and dream of wearing it with pink ribbons. In the evenings +she would dazzle herself with the displays in the windows of the big jewellers +in the Rue Montmartre. That terrible street deafened her with its ceaseless +flow of vehicles, and the streaming crowd never ceased to jostle her; still she +did not stir, but remained feasting her eyes on the blazing splendour set out +in the light of the reflecting lamps which hung outside the windows. On one +side all was white with the bright glitter of silver: watches in rows, chains +hanging, spoons and forks laid crossways, cups, snuff-boxes, napkin-rings, and +combs arranged on shelves. The silver thimbles, dotting a porcelain stand +covered with a glass shade, had an especial attraction for her. Then on the +other side the windows glistened with the tawny glow of gold. A cascade of long +pendant chains descended from above, rippling with ruddy gleams; small +ladies’ watches, with the backs of their cases displayed, sparkled like +fallen stars; wedding rings clustered round slender rods; bracelets, broaches, +and other costly ornaments glittered on the black velvet linings of their +cases; jewelled rings set their stands aglow with blue, green, yellow, and +violet flamelets; while on every tier of the shelves superposed rows of +earrings and crosses and lockets hung against the crystal like the rich fringes +of altar-cloths. The glow of this gold illumined the street half way across +with a sun-like radiance. And Cadine, as she gazed at it, almost fancied that +she was in presence of something holy, or on the threshold of the +Emperor’s treasure chamber. She would for a long time scrutinise all this +show of gaudy jewellery, adapted to the taste of the fish-wives, and carefully +read the large figures on the tickets affixed to each article; and eventually +she would select for herself a pair of earrings—pear-shaped drops of +imitation coral hanging from golden roses. +</p> + +<p> +One morning Claude caught her standing in ecstasy before a hair-dresser’s +window in the Rue Saint Honoré. She was gazing at the display of hair with an +expression of intense envy. High up in the window was a streaming cascade of +long manes, soft wisps, loose tresses, frizzy falls, undulating comb-curls, a +perfect cataract of silky and bristling hair, real and artificial, now in coils +of a flaming red, now in thick black crops, now in pale golden locks, and even +in snowy white ones for the coquette of sixty. In cardboard boxes down below +were cleverly arranged fringes, curling side-ringlets, and carefully combed +chignons glossy with pomade. And amidst this framework, in a sort of shrine +beneath the ravelled ends of the hanging locks, there revolved the bust of a +woman, arrayed in a wrapper of cherry-coloured satin fastened between the +breasts with a brass brooch. The figure wore a lofty bridal coiffure picked out +with sprigs of orange blossom, and smiled with a dollish smile. Its eyes were +pale blue; its eyebrows were very stiff and of exaggerated length; and its +waxen cheeks and shoulders bore evident traces of the heat and smoke of the +gas. Cadine waited till the revolving figure again displayed its smiling face, +and as its profile showed more distinctly and it slowly went round from left to +right she felt perfectly happy. Claude, however, was indignant, and, shaking +Cadine, he asked her what she was doing in front of “that abomination, +that corpse-like hussy picked up at the Morgue!” He flew into a temper +with the “dummy’s” cadaverous face and shoulders, that +disfigurement of the beautiful, and remarked that artists painted nothing but +that unreal type of woman nowadays. Cadine, however, remained unconvinced by +his oratory, and considered the lady extremely beautiful. Then, resisting the +attempts of the artist to drag her away by the arm, and scratching her black +mop in vexation, she pointed to an enormous ruddy tail, severed from the +quarters of some vigorous mare, and told him she would have liked to have a +crop of hair like that. +</p> + +<p> +During the long rambles when Claude, Cadine, and Marjolin prowled about the +neighbourhood of the markets, they saw the iron ribs of the giant building at +the end of every street. Wherever they turned they caught sudden glimpses of +it; the horizon was always bounded by it; merely the aspect under which it was +seen varied. Claude was perpetually turning round, and particularly in the Rue +Montmartre, after passing the church. From that point the markets, seen +obliquely in the distance, filled him with enthusiasm. A huge arcade, a giant, +gaping gateway, was open before him; then came the crowding pavilions with +their lower and upper roofs, their countless Venetian shutters and endless +blinds, a vision, as it were, of superposed houses and palaces; a Babylon of +metal of Hindoo delicacy of workmanship, intersected by hanging terraces, +aerial galleries, and flying bridges poised over space. The trio always +returned to this city round which they strolled, unable to stray more than a +hundred yards away. They came back to it during the hot afternoons when the +Venetian shutters were closed and the blinds lowered. In the covered ways all +seemed to be asleep, the ashy greyness was streaked by yellow bars of sunlight +falling through the high windows. Only a subdued murmur broke the silence; the +steps of a few hurrying passers-by resounded on the footways; whilst the +badge-wearing porters sat in rows on the stone ledges at the corners of the +pavilions, taking off their boots and nursing their aching feet. The quietude +was that of a colossus at rest, interrupted at times by some cock-crow rising +from the cellars below. +</p> + +<p> +Claude, Cadine, and Marjolin then often went to see the empty hampers piled +upon the drays, which came to fetch them every afternoon so that they might be +sent back to the consignors. There were mountains of them, labelled with black +letters and figures, in front of the salesmen’s warehouses in the Rue +Berger. The porters arranged them symmetrically, tier by tier, on the vehicles. +When the pile rose, however, to the height of a first floor, the porter who +stood below balancing the next batch of hampers had to make a spring in order +to toss them up to his mate, who was perched aloft with arms extended. Claude, +who delighted in feats of strength and dexterity, would stand for hours +watching the flight of these masses of osier, and would burst into a hearty +laugh whenever too vigorous a toss sent them flying over the pile into the +roadway beyond. He was fond, too, of the footways of the Rue Rambuteau and the +Rue du Pont Neuf, near the fruit market, where the retail dealers congregated. +The sight of the vegetables displayed in the open air, on trestle-tables +covered with damp black rags, was full of charm for him. At four in the +afternoon the whole of this nook of greenery was aglow with sunshine; and +Claude wandered between the stalls, inspecting the bright-coloured heads of the +saleswomen with keen artistic relish. The younger ones, with their hair in +nets, had already lost all freshness of complexion through the rough life they +led; while the older ones were bent and shrivelled, with wrinkled, flaring +faces showing under the yellow kerchiefs bound round their heads. Cadine and +Marjolin refused to accompany him hither, as they could perceive old Mother +Chantemesse shaking her fist at them, in her anger at seeing them prowling +about together. He joined them again, however, on the opposite footway, where +he found a splendid subject for a picture in the stallkeepers squatting under +their huge umbrellas of faded red, blue, and violet, which, mounted upon poles, +filled the whole market-side with bumps, and showed conspicuously against the +fiery glow of the sinking sun, whose rays faded amidst the carrots and the +turnips. One tattered harridan, a century old, was sheltering three +spare-looking lettuces beneath an umbrella of pink silk, shockingly split and +stained. +</p> + +<p> +Cadine and Marjolin had struck up an acquaintance with Leon, Quenu’s +apprentice, one day when he was taking a pie to a house in the neighbourhood. +They saw him cautiously raise the lid of his pan in a secluded corner of the +Rue de Mondetour, and delicately take out a ball of forcemeat. They smiled at +the sight, which gave them a very high opinion of Leon. And the idea came to +Cadine that she might at last satisfy one of her most ardent longings. Indeed, +the very next time that she met the lad with his basket she made herself very +agreeable, and induced him to offer her a forcemeat ball. But, although she +laughed and licked her fingers, she experienced some disappointment. The +forcemeat did not prove nearly so nice as she had anticipated. On the other +hand, the lad, with his sly, greedy phiz and his white garments, which made him +look like a girl going to her first communion, somewhat took her fancy. +</p> + +<p> +She invited him to a monster lunch which she gave amongst the hampers in the +auction room at the butter market. The three of them—herself, Marjolin, +and Leon—completely secluded themselves from the world within four walls +of osier. The feast was laid out on a large flat basket. There were pears, +nuts, cream-cheese, shrimps, fried potatoes, and radishes. The cheese came from +a fruiterer’s in the Rue de la Cossonnerie, and was a present; and a +“frier” of the Rue de la Grande Truanderie had given Cadine credit +for two sous’ worth of potatoes. The rest of the feast, the pears, the +nuts, the shrimps, and the radishes, had been pilfered from different parts of +the market. It was a delicious treat; and Leon, desirous of returning the +hospitality, gave a supper in his bedroom at one o’clock in the morning. +The bill of fare included cold black-pudding, slices of polony, a piece of salt +pork, some gherkins, and some goose-fat. The Quenu-Gradelles’ shop had +provided everything. And matters did not stop there. Dainty suppers alternated +with delicate luncheons, and invitation upon invitation. Three times a week +there were banquets, either amidst the hampers or in Leon’s garret, where +Florent, on the nights when he lay awake, could hear a stifled sound of +munching and rippling laughter until day began to break. +</p> + +<p> +The loves of Cadine and Marjolin now took another turn. The youth played the +gallant, and just as another might entertain his <i>innamorata</i> at a +champagne supper <i>en tête à tête</i> in a private room, he led Cadine into +some quiet corner of the market cellars to munch apples or sprigs of celery. +One day he stole a red-herring, which they devoured with immense enjoyment on +the roof of the fish market beside the guttering. There was not a single shady +nook in the whole place where they did not indulge in secret feasts. The +district, with its rows of open shops full of fruit and cakes and preserves, +was no longer a closed paradise, in front of which they prowled with greedy, +covetous appetites. As they passed the shops they now extended their hands and +pilfered a prune, a few cherries, or a bit of cod. They also provisioned +themselves at the markets, keeping a sharp look-out as they made their way +between the stalls, picking up everything that fell, and often assisting the +fall by a push of their shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +In spite, however, of all the marauding, some terrible scores had to be run up +with the “frier” of the Rue de la Grand Truanderie. This +“frier,” whose shanty leaned against a tumble-down house, and was +propped up by heavy joists, green with moss, made a display of boiled mussels +lying in large earthenware bowls filled to the brim with clear water; of dishes +of little yellow dabs stiffened by too thick a coating of paste; of squares of +tripe simmering in a pan; and of grilled herrings, black and charred, and so +hard that if you tapped them they sounded like wood. On certain weeks Cadine +owed the frier as much as twenty sous, a crushing debt, which required the sale +of an incalculable number of bunches of violets, for she could count upon no +assistance from Marjolin. Moreover, she was bound to return Leon’s +hospitalities; and she even felt some little shame at never being able to offer +him a scrap of meat. He himself had now taken to purloining entire hams. As a +rule, he stowed everything away under his shirt; and at night when he reached +his bedroom he drew from his bosom hunks of polony, slices of <i>paté de foie +gras</i>, and bundles of pork rind. They had to do without bread, and there was +nothing to drink; but no matter. One night Marjolin saw Leon kiss Cadine +between two mouthfuls; however, he only laughed. He could have smashed the +little fellow with a blow from his fist, but he felt no jealousy in respect of +Cadine. He treated her simply as a comrade with whom he had chummed for years. +</p> + +<p> +Claude never participated in these feasts. Having caught Cadine one day +stealing a beet-root from a little hamper lined with hay, he had pulled her +ears and given her a sound rating. These thieving propensities made her perfect +as a ne’er-do-well. However, in spite of himself, he could not help +feeling a sort of admiration for these sensual, pilfering, greedy creatures, +who preyed upon everything that lay about, feasting off the crumbs that fell +from the giant’s table. +</p> + +<p> +At last Marjolin nominally took service under Gavard, happy in having nothing +to do except to listen to his master’s flow of talk, while Cadine still +continued to sell violets, quite accustomed by this time to old Mother +Chantemesse’s scoldings. They were still the same children as ever, +giving way to their instincts and appetites without the slightest +shame—they were the growth of the slimy pavements of the market district, +where, even in fine weather, the mud remains black and sticky. However, as +Cadine walked along the footways, mechanically twisting her bunches of violets, +she was sometimes disturbed by disquieting reveries; and Marjolin, too, +suffered from an uneasiness which he could not explain. He would occasionally +leave the girl and miss some ramble or feast in order to go and gaze at Madame +Quenu through the windows of her pork shop. She was so handsome and plump and +round that it did him good to look at her. As he stood gazing at her, he felt +full and satisfied, as though he had just eaten or drunk something extremely +nice. And when he went off, a sort of hunger and thirst to see her again +suddenly came upon him. This had been going on for a couple of months. At first +he had looked at her with the respectful glance which he bestowed upon the +shop-fronts of the grocers and provision dealers; but subsequently, when he and +Cadine had taken to general pilfering, he began to regard her smooth cheeks +much as he regarded the barrels of olives and boxes of dried apples. +</p> + +<p> +For some time past Marjolin had seen handsome Lisa every day, in the morning. +She would pass Gavard’s stall, and stop for a moment or two to chat with +the poultry dealer. She now did her marketing herself, so that she might be +cheated as little as possible, she said. The truth, however, was that she +wished to make Gavard speak out. In the pork shop he was always distrustful, +but at his stall he chatted and talked with the utmost freedom. Now, Lisa had +made up her mind to ascertain from him exactly what took place in the little +room at Monsieur Lebigre’s; for she had no great confidence in her secret +police office, Mademoiselle Saget. In a short time she learnt from the +incorrigible chatterbox a lot of vague details which very much alarmed her. Two +days after her explanation with Quenu she returned home from the market looking +very pale. She beckoned to her husband to follow her into the dining-room, and +having carefully closed the door she said to him: “Is your brother +determined to send us to the scaffold, then? Why did you conceal from me what +you knew?” +</p> + +<p> +Quenu declared that he knew nothing. He even swore a great oath that he had not +returned to Monsieur Lebigre’s, and would never go there again. +</p> + +<p> +“You will do well not to do so,” replied Lisa, shrugging her +shoulders, “unless you want to get yourself into a serious scrape. +Florent is up to some evil trick, I’m certain of it! I have just learned +quite sufficient to show me where he is going. He’s going back to +Cayenne, do you hear?” +</p> + +<p> +Then, after a pause, she continued in calmer ones: “Oh, the unhappy man! +He had everything here that he could wish for. He might have redeemed his +character; he had nothing but good examples before him. But no, it is in his +blood! He will come to a violent end with his politics! I insist upon there +being an end to all this! You hear me, Quenu? I gave you due warning long +ago!” +</p> + +<p> +She spoke the last words very incisively. Quenu bent his head, as if awaiting +sentence. +</p> + +<p> +“To begin with,” continued Lisa, “he shall cease to take his +meals here. It will be quite sufficient if we give him a bed. He is earning +money; let him feed himself.” +</p> + +<p> +Quenu seemed on the point of protesting, but his wife silenced him by adding +energetically: +</p> + +<p> +“Make your choice between him and me. If he remains here, I swear to you +that I will go away, and take my daughter with me. Do you want me to tell you +the whole truth about him? He is a man capable of anything; he has come here to +bring discord into our household. But I will set things right, you may depend +on it. You have your choice between him and me; you hear me?” +</p> + +<p> +Then, leaving her husband in silent consternation, she returned to the shop, +where she served a customer with her usual affable smile. The fact was that, +having artfully inveigled Gavard into a political discussion, the poultry +dealer had told her that she would soon see how the land lay, that they were +going to make a clean sweep of everything, and that two determined men like her +brother-in-law and himself would suffice to set the fire blazing. This was the +evil trick of which she had spoken to Quenu, some conspiracy to which Gavard +was always making mysterious allusions with a sniggering grin from which he +seemingly desired a great deal to be inferred. And in imagination Lisa already +saw the gendarmes invading the pork shop, gagging herself, her husband, and +Pauline, and casting them into some underground dungeon. +</p> + +<p> +In the evening, at dinner, she evinced an icy frigidity. She made no offers to +serve Florent, but several times remarked: “It’s very strange what +an amount of bread we’ve got through lately.” +</p> + +<p> +Florent at last understood. He felt that he was being treated like a poor +relation who is gradually turned out of doors. For the last two months Lisa had +dressed him in Quenu’s old trousers and coats; and, as he was as thin as +his brother was fat, these ragged garments had a most extraordinary appearance +upon him. She also turned her oldest linen over to him: pocket-handkerchiefs +which had been darned a score of times, ragged towels, sheets which were only +fit to be cut up into dusters and dish-cloths, and worn-out shirts, distended +by Quenu’s corpulent figure, and so short that they would have served +Florent as under-vests. Moreover, he no longer found around him the same +good-natured kindliness as in the earlier days. The whole household seemed to +shrug its shoulders after the example set by handsome Lisa. Auguste and +Augustine turned their backs upon him, and little Pauline, with the cruel +frankness of childhood, let fall some bitter remarks about the stains on his +coat and the holes in his shirt. However, during the last days he suffered most +at table. He scarcely dared to eat, as he saw the mother and daughter fix their +gaze upon him whenever he cut himself a piece of bread. Quenu meantime peered +into his plate, to avoid having to take any part in what went on. +</p> + +<p> +That which most tortured Florent was his inability to invent a reason for +leaving the house. During a week he kept on revolving in his mind a sentence +expressing his resolve to take his meals elsewhere, but could not bring himself +to utter it. Indeed, this man of tender nature lived in such a world of +illusions that he feared he might hurt his brother and sister-in-law by ceasing +to lunch and dine with them. It had taken him over two months to detect +Lisa’s latent hostility; and even now he was sometimes inclined to think +that he must be mistaken, and that she was in reality kindly disposed towards +him. Unselfishness with him extended to forgetfulness of his requirements; it +was no longer a virtue, but utter indifference to self, an absolute +obliteration of personality. Even when he recognised that he was being +gradually turned out of the house, his mind never for a moment dwelt upon his +share in old Gradelle’s fortune, or upon the accounts which Lisa had +offered him. He had already planned out his expenditure for the future; +reckoning that with what Madame Verlaque still allowed him to retain of his +salary, and the thirty francs a month which a pupil, obtained through La +Normande, paid him he would be able to spend eighteen sous on his breakfast and +twenty-six sous on his dinner. This, he thought, would be ample. And so, at +last, taking as his excuse the lessons which he was giving his new pupil, he +emboldened himself one morning to pretend that it would be impossible for him +in future to come to the house at mealtimes. He blushed as he gave utterance to +this laboriously constructed lie, which had given him so much trouble, and +continued apologetically: +</p> + +<p> +“You mustn’t be offended; the boy only has those hours free. I can +easily get something to eat, you know; and I will come and have a chat with you +in the evenings.” +</p> + +<p> +Beautiful Lisa maintained her icy reserve, and this increased Florent’s +feeling of trouble. In order to have no cause for self-reproach she had been +unwilling to send him about his business, preferring to wait till he should +weary of the situation and go of his own accord. Now he was going, and it was a +good riddance; and she studiously refrained from all show of kindliness for +fear it might induce him to remain. Quenu, however, showed some signs of +emotion, and exclaimed: “Don’t think of putting yourself about; +take your meals elsewhere by all means, if it is more convenient. It +isn’t we who are turning you way; you’ll at all events dine with us +sometimes on Sundays, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +Florent hurried off. His heart was very heavy. When he had gone, the beautiful +Lisa did not venture to reproach her husband for his weakness in giving that +invitation for Sundays. She had conquered, and again breathed freely amongst +the light oak of her dining-room, where she would have liked to burn some sugar +to drive away the odour of perverse leanness which seemed to linger about. +Moreover, she continued to remain on the defensive; and at the end of another +week she felt more alarmed than ever. She only occasionally saw Florent in the +evenings, and began to have all sorts of dreadful thoughts, imagining that her +brother-in-law was constructing some infernal machine upstairs in +Augustine’s bedroom, or else making signals which would result in +barricades covering the whole neighbourhood. Gavard, who had become gloomy, +merely nodded or shook his head when she spoke to him, and left his stall for +days together in Marjolin’s charge. The beautiful Lisa, however, +determined that she would get to the bottom of affairs. She knew that Florent +had obtained a day’s leave, and intended to spend it with Claude Lantier, +at Madame Francois’s, at Nanterre. As he would start in the morning, and +remain away till night, she conceived the idea of inviting Gavard to dinner. He +would be sure to talk freely, at table, she thought. But throughout the morning +she was unable to meet the poultry dealer, and so in the afternoon she went +back again to the markets. +</p> + +<p> +Marjolin was in the stall alone. He used to drowse there for hours, recouping +himself from the fatigue of his long rambles. He generally sat upon one chair +with his legs resting upon another, and his head leaning against a little +dresser. In the wintertime he took a keen delight in lolling there and +contemplating the display of game; the bucks hanging head downwards, with their +fore-legs broken and twisted round their necks; the larks festooning the stall +like garlands; the big ruddy hares, the mottled partridges, the water-fowl of a +bronze-grey hue, the Russian black cocks and hazel hens, which arrived in a +packing of oat straw and charcoal;[*] and the pheasants, the magnificent +pheasants, with their scarlet hoods, their stomachers of green satin, their +mantles of embossed gold, and their flaming tails, that trailed like trains of +court robes. All this show of plumage reminded Marjolin of his rambles in the +cellars with Cadine amongst the hampers of feathers. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] The baskets in which these are sent to Paris are identical with those which +in many provinces of Russia serve the <i>moujiks</i> as cradles for their +infants.—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +That afternoon the beautiful Lisa found Marjolin in the midst of the poultry. +It was warm, and whiffs of hot air passed along the narrow alleys of the +pavilion. She was obliged to stoop before she could see him stretched out +inside the stall, below the bare flesh of the birds. From the hooked bar up +above hung fat geese, the hooks sticking in the bleeding wounds of their long +stiffened necks, while their huge bodies bulged out, glowing ruddily beneath +their fine down, and, with their snowy tails and wings, suggesting nudity +encompassed by fine linen. And also hanging from the bar, with ears thrown back +and feet parted as though they were bent on some vigorous leap, were grey +rabbits whose turned-up tails gleamed whitely, whilst their heads, with sharp +teeth and dim eyes, laughed with the grin of death. On the counter of the stall +plucked fowls showed their strained fleshy breasts; pigeons, crowded on osier +trays, displayed the soft bare skin of innocents; ducks, with skin of rougher +texture, exhibited their webbed feet; and three magnificent turkeys, speckled +with blue dots, like freshly-shaven chins, slumbered on their backs amidst the +black fans of their expanded tails. On plates near by were giblets, livers, +gizzards, necks, feet, and wings; while an oval dish contained a skinned and +gutted rabbit, with its four legs wide apart, its head bleeding, and is kidneys +showing through its gashed belly. A streamlet of dark blood, after trickling +along its back to its tail, had fallen drop by drop, staining the whiteness of +the dish. Marjolin had not even taken the trouble to wipe the block, near which +the rabbit’s feet were still lying. He reclined there with his eyes half +closed, encompassed by other piles of dead poultry which crowded the shelves of +the stall, poultry in paper wrappers like bouquets, rows upon rows of +protuberant breasts and bent legs showing confusedly. And amidst all this mass +of food, the young fellow’s big, fair figure, the flesh of his cheeks, +hands, and powerful neck covered with ruddy down seemed as soft as that of the +magnificent turkeys, and as plump as the breasts of the fat geese. +</p> + +<p> +When he caught sight of Lisa, he at once sprang up, blushing at having been +caught sprawling in this way. He always seemed very nervous and ill at ease in +Madame Quenu’s presence; and when she asked him if Monsieur Gavard was +there, he stammered out: “No, I don’t think so. He was here a +little while ago, but he want away again.” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa looked at him, smiling; she had a great liking for him. But feeling +something warm brush against her hand, which was hanging by her side, she +raised a little shriek. Some live rabbits were thrusting their noses out of a +box under the counter of the stall, and sniffing at her skirts. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” she exclaimed with a laugh, “it’s your rabbits +that are tickling me.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she stooped and attempted to stroke a white rabbit, which darted in alarm +into a corner of the box. +</p> + +<p> +“Will Monsieur Gavard be back soon, do you think?” she asked, as +she again rose erect. +</p> + +<p> +Marjolin once more replied that he did not know; then in a hesitating way he +continued: “He’s very likely gone down into the cellars. He told +me, I think, that he was going there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I think I’ll wait for him, then,” replied Lisa. +“Could you let him know that I am here? or I might go down to him, +perhaps. Yes, that’s a good idea; I’ve been intending to go and +have a look at the cellars for these last five years. You’ll take me +down, won’t you, and explain things to me?” +</p> + +<p> +Marjolin blushed crimson, and, hurrying out of the stall, walked on in front of +her, leaving the poultry to look after itself. “Of course I will,” +said he. “I’ll do anything you wish, Madame Lisa.” +</p> + +<p> +When they got down below, the beautiful Lisa felt quite suffocated by the dank +atmosphere of the cellar. She stood at the bottom step, and raised her eyes to +look at the vaulted roofing of red and white bricks arching slightly between +the iron ribs upheld by small columns. What made her hesitate more than the +gloominess of the place was a warm, penetrating odour, the exhalations of large +numbers of living creatures, which irritated her nostrils and throat. +</p> + +<p> +“What a nasty smell!” she exclaimed. “It must be very +unhealthy down here.” +</p> + +<p> +“It never does me any harm,” replied Marjolin in astonishment. +“There’s nothing unpleasant about the smell when you’ve got +accustomed to it; and it’s very warm and cosy down here in the +wintertime.” +</p> + +<p> +As Lisa followed him, however, she declared that the strong scent of the +poultry quite turned her stomach, and that she would certainly not be able to +eat a fowl for the next two months. All around her, the storerooms, the small +cabins where the stallkeepers keep their live stock, formed regular streets, +intersecting each other at right angles. There were only a few scattered gas +lights, and the little alleys seemed wrapped in sleep like the lanes of a +village where the inhabitants have all gone to bed. Marjolin made Lisa feel the +close-meshed wiring, stretched on a framework of cast iron; and as she made her +way along one of the streets she amused herself by reading the names of the +different tenants, which were inscribed on blue labels. +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Gavard’s place is quite at the far end,” said the +young man, still walking on. +</p> + +<p> +They turned to the left, and found themselves in a sort of blind alley, a dark, +gloomy spot where not a ray of light penetrated. Gavard was not there. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it makes no difference,” said Marjolin. “I can show you +our birds just the same. I have a key of the storeroom.” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa followed him into the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t suppose that I can see your birds in this black oven, do +you?” she asked, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +Marjolin did not reply at once; but presently he stammered out that there was +always a candle in the storeroom. He was fumbling about the lock, and seemed +quite unable to find the keyhole. As Lisa came up to help him, she felt a hot +breath on her neck; and when the young man had at last succeeded in opening the +door and lighted the candle, she saw that he was trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“You silly fellow!” she exclaimed, “to get yourself into such +a state just because a door won’t open! Why, you’re no better than +a girl, in spite of your big fists!” +</p> + +<p> +She stepped inside the storeroom. Gavard had rented two compartments, which he +had thrown into one by removing the partition between them. In the dirt on the +floor wallowed the larger birds—the geese, turkeys, and ducks—while +up above, on tiers of shelves, were boxes with barred fronts containing fowls +and rabbits. The grating of the storeroom was so coated with dust and cobwebs +that it looked as though covered with grey blinds. The woodwork down below was +rotting, and covered with filth. Lisa, however, not wishing to vex Marjolin, +refrained from any further expression of disgust. She pushed her fingers +between the bars of the boxes, and began to lament the fate of the unhappy +fowls, which were so closely huddled together and could not even stand upright. +Then she stroked a duck with a broken leg which was squatting in a corner, and +the young man told her that it would be killed that very evening, for fear lest +it should die during the night. +</p> + +<p> +“But what do they do for food?” asked Lisa. +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon he explained to her that poultry would not eat in the dark, and that +it was necessary to light a candle and wait there till they had finished their +meal. +</p> + +<p> +“It amuses me to watch them,” he continued; “I often stay +here with a light for hours altogether. You should see how they peck away; and +when I hide the flame of the candle with my hand they all stand stock-still +with their necks in the air, just as though the sun had set. It is against the +rules to leave a lighted candle here and go away. One of the dealers, old +Mother Palette—you know her, don’t you?—nearly burned the +whole place down the other day. A fowl must have knocked the candle over into +the straw while she was away.” +</p> + +<p> +“A pretty thing, isn’t it,” said Lisa, “for fowls to +insist upon having the chandeliers lighted up every time they take a +meal?” +</p> + +<p> +This idea made her laugh. Then she came out of the storeroom, wiping her feet, +and holding up her skirts to keep them from the filth. Marjolin blew out the +candle and locked the door. Lisa felt rather nervous at finding herself in the +dark again with this big young fellow, and so she hastened on in front. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad I came, all the same,” she presently said, as he +joined her. “There is a great deal more under these markets than I ever +imagined. But I must make haste now and get home again. They’ll wonder +what has become of me at the shop. If Monsieur Gavard comes back, tell him that +I want to speak to him immediately.” +</p> + +<p> +“I expect he’s in the killing-room,” said Marjolin. +“We’ll go and see, if you like.” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa made no reply. She felt oppressed by the close atmosphere which warmed her +face. She was quite flushed, and her bodice, generally so still and lifeless, +began to heave. Moreover, the sound of Marjolin’s hurrying steps behind +her filled her with an uneasy feeling. At last she stepped aside, and let him +go on in front. The lanes of this underground village were still fast asleep. +Lisa noticed that her companion was taking the longest way. When they came out +in front of the railway track he told her that he had wished to show it to her; +and they stood for a moment or two looking through the chinks in the hoarding +of heavy beams. Then Marjolin proposed to take her on to the line; but she +refused, saying that it was not worth while, as she could see things well +enough where she was. +</p> + +<p> +As they returned to the poultry cellars they found old Madame Palette in front +of her storeroom, removing the cords of a large square hamper, in which a +furious fluttering of wings and scraping of feet could be heard. As she +unfastened the last knot the lid suddenly flew open, as though shot up by a +spring, and some big geese thrust out their heads and necks. Then, in wild +alarm, they sprang from their prison and rushed away, craning their necks, and +filling the dark cellars with a frightful noise of hissing and clattering of +beaks. Lisa could not help laughing, in spite of the lamentations of the old +woman, who swore like a carter as she caught hold of two of the absconding +birds and dragged them back by the neck. Marjolin, meantime, set off in pursuit +of a third. They could hear him running along the narrow alleys, hunting for +the runaway, and delighting in the chase. Then, far off in the distance, they +heard the sounds of a struggle, and presently Marjolin came back again, +bringing the goose with him. Mother Palette, a sallow-faced old woman, took it +in her arms and clasped it for a moment to her bosom, in the classic attitude +of Leda. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, I’m sure I don’t know what I should have done if +you hadn’t been here,” said she. “The other day I had a +regular fight with one of the brutes; but I had my knife with me, and I cut its +throat.” +</p> + +<p> +Marjolin was quite out of breath. When they reached the stone blocks where the +poultry were killed, and where the gas burnt more brightly, Lisa could see that +he was perspiring, and had bold, glistening eyes. She thought he looked very +handsome like that, with his broad shoulders, big flushed face, and fair curly +hair, and she looked at him so complacently, with that air of admiration which +women feel they may safely express for quite young lads, that he relapsed into +timid bashfulness again. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Monsieur Gavard isn’t here, you see,” she said. +“You’ve only made me waste my time.” +</p> + +<p> +Marjolin, however, began rapidly explaining the killing of the poultry to her. +Five huge stone slabs stretched out in the direction of the Rue Rambuteau under +the yellow light of the gas jets. A woman was killing fowls at one end; and +this led him to tell Lisa that the birds were plucked almost before they were +dead, the operation thus being much easier. Then he wanted her to feel the +feathers which were lying in heaps on the stone slabs; and told her that they +were sorted and sold for as much as nine sous the pound, according to their +quality. To satisfy him, she was also obliged to plunge her hand into the big +hampers full of down. Then he turned the water-taps, of which there was one by +every pillar. There was no end to the particulars he gave. The blood, he said, +streamed along the stone blocks, and collected into pools on the paved floor, +which attendants sluiced with water every two hours, removing the more recent +stains with coarse brushes. +</p> + +<p> +When Lisa stooped over the drain which carries away the swillings, Marjolin +found a fresh text for talk. On rainy days, said he, the water sometimes rose +through this orifice and flooded the place. It had once risen a foot high; and +they had been obliged to transport all the poultry to the other end of the +cellar, which is on a higher level. He laughed as he recalled the wild flutter +of the terrified creatures. However, he had now finished, and it seemed as +though there remained nothing else for him to show, when all at once he +bethought himself of the ventilator. Thereupon he took Lisa off to the far end +of the cellar, and told her to look up; and inside one of the turrets at the +corner angles of the pavilion she observed a sort of escape-pipe, by which the +foul atmosphere of the storerooms ascended into space. +</p> + +<p> +Here, in this corner, reeking with abominable odours, Marjolin’s nostrils +quivered, and his breath came and went violently. His long stroll with Lisa in +these cellars, full of warm animal perfumes, had gradually intoxicated him. +</p> + +<p> +She had again turned towards him. “Well,” said she, “it was +very kind of you to show me all this, and when you come to the shop I will give +you something.” +</p> + +<p> +Whilst speaking she took hold of his soft chin, as she often did, without +recognising that he was no longer a child; and perhaps she allowed her hand to +linger there a little longer than was her wont. At all events, Marjolin, +usually so bashful, was thrilled by the caress, and all at once he impetuously +sprang forward, clasped Lisa by the shoulders, and pressed his lips to her soft +cheeks. She raised no cry, but turned very pale at this sudden attack, which +showed her how imprudent she had been. And then, freeing herself from the +embrace, she raised her arm, as she had seen men do in slaughter houses, +clenched her comely fist, and knocked Marjolin down with a single blow, planted +straight between his eyes; and as he fell his head came into collision with one +of the stone slabs, and was split open. Just at that moment the hoarse and +prolonged crowing of a cock sounded through the gloom. +</p> + +<p> +Handsome Lisa, however, remained perfectly cool. Her lips were tightly +compressed, and her bosom had recovered its wonted immobility. Up above she +could hear the heavy rumbling of the markets, and through the vent-holes +alongside the Rue Rambuteau the noise of the street traffic made its way into +the oppressive silence of the cellar. Lisa reflected that her own strong arm +had saved her; and then, fearing lest some one should come and find her there, +she hastened off, without giving a glance at Marjolin. As she climbed the +steps, after passing through the grated entrance of the cellars, the daylight +brought her great relief. +</p> + +<p> +She returned to the shop, quite calm, and only looking a little pale. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been a long time,” Quenu said to her. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t find Gavard. I have looked for him everywhere,” she +quietly replied. “We shall have to eat our leg of mutton without +him.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she filled the lard pot, which she noticed was empty; and cut some pork +chops for her friend Madame Taboureau, who had sent her little servant for +them. The blows which she dealt with her cleaver reminded her of Marjolin. She +felt that she had nothing to reproach herself with. She had acted like an +honest woman. She was not going to disturb her peace of mind; she was too happy +to do anything to compromise herself. However, she glanced at Quenu, whose neck +was coarse and ruddy, and whose shaven chin looked as rough as knotted wood; +whereas Marjolin’s chin and neck resembled rosy satin. But then she must +not think of him any more, for he was no longer a child. She regretted it, and +could not help thinking that children grew up much too quickly. +</p> + +<p> +A slight flush came back to her cheeks, and Quenu considered that she looked +wonderfully blooming. He came and sat down beside her at the counter for a +moment or two. “You ought to go out oftener,” said he; “it +does you good. We’ll go to the theatre together one of these nights, if +you like; to the Gaité, eh? Madame Taboureau has been to see the piece they are +playing there, and she declares it’s splendid.” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa smiled, and said they would see about it, and then once more she took +herself off. Quenu thought that it was too good of her to take so much trouble +in running about after that brute Gavard. In point of fact, however, she had +simply gone upstairs to Florent’s bedroom, the key of which was hanging +from a nail in the kitchen. She hoped to find out something or other by an +inspection of this room, since the poultry dealer had failed her. She went +slowly round it, examining the bed, the mantelpiece, and every corner. The +window with the little balcony was open, and the budding pomegranate was +steeped in the golden beams of the setting sun. The room looked to her as +though Augustine had never left it—had slept there only the night before. +There seemed to be nothing masculine about the place. She was quite surprised, +for she had expected to find some suspicious-looking chests, and coffers with +strong locks. She went to feel Augustine’s summer gown, which was still +hanging against the wall. Then she sat down at the table, and began to read an +unfinished page of manuscript, in which the word “revolution” +occurred twice. This alarmed her, and she opened the drawer, which she saw was +full of papers. But her sense of honour awoke within her in presence of the +secret which the rickety deal table so badly guarded. She remained bending over +the papers, trying to understand them without touching them, in a state of +great emotion, when the shrill song of the chaffinch, on whose cage streamed a +ray of sunshine, made her start. She closed the drawer. It was a base thing +that she had contemplated, she thought. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as she lingered by the window, reflecting that she ought to go and ask +counsel of Abbé Roustan, who was a very sensible man, she saw a crowd of people +round a stretcher in the market square below. The night was falling, still she +distinctly recognised Cadine weeping in the midst of the crowd; while Florent +and Claude, whose boots were white with dust, stood together talking earnestly +at the edge of the footway. She hurried downstairs again, surprised to see them +back so soon, and scarcely had she reached her counter when Mademoiselle Saget +entered the shop. +</p> + +<p> +“They have found that scamp of a Marjolin in the cellar, with his head +split open,” exclaimed the old maid. “Won’t you come to see +him, Madame Quenu?” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa crossed the road to look at him. The young fellow was lying on his back on +the stretcher, looking very pale. His eyes were closed, and a stiff wisp of his +fair hair was clotted with blood. The bystanders, however, declared that there +was no serious harm done, and, besides, the scamp had only himself to blame, +for he was always playing all sorts of wild pranks in the cellars. It was +generally supposed that he had been trying to jump over one of the stone +blocks—one of his favourite amusements—and had fallen with his head +against the slab. +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say that hussy there gave him a shove,” remarked +Mademoiselle Saget, pointing to Cadine, who was weeping. “They are always +larking together.” +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the fresh air had restored Marjolin to consciousness, and he opened +his eyes in wide astonishment. He looked round at everybody, and then, +observing Lisa bending over him, he gently smiled at her with an expression of +mingled humility and affection. He seemed to have forgotten all that had +happened. Lisa, feeling relieved, said that he ought to be taken to the +hospital at once, and promised to go and see him there, and take him some +oranges and biscuits. However, Marjolin’s head had fallen back, and when +the stretcher was carried away Cadine followed it, with her flat basket slung +round her neck, and her hot tears rolling down upon the bunches of violets in +their mossy bed. She certainly had no thoughts for the flowers that she was +thus scalding with her bitter grief. +</p> + +<p> +As Lisa went back to her shop, she heard Claude say, as he shook hands with +Florent and parted from him: “Ah! the confounded young scamp! He’s +quite spoiled my day for me! Still, we had a very enjoyable time, didn’t +we?” +</p> + +<p> +Claude and Florent had returned both worried and happy, bringing with them the +pleasant freshness of the country air. Madame Francois had disposed of all her +vegetables that morning before daylight; and they had all three gone to the +Golden Compasses, in the Rue Montorgueil, to get the cart. Here, in the middle +of Paris, they found a foretaste of the country. Behind the Restaurant +Philippe, with its frontage of gilt woodwork rising to the first floor, there +was a yard like that of a farm, dirty, teeming with life, reeking with the +odour of manure and straw. Bands of fowls were pecking at the soft ground. +Sheds and staircases and galleries of greeny wood clung to the old houses +around, and at the far end, in a shanty of big beams, was Balthazar, harnessed +to the cart, and eating the oats in his nosebag. He went down the Rue +Montorgueil at a slow trot, seemingly well pleased to return to Nanterre so +soon. However, he was not going home without a load. Madame Francois had a +contract with the company which undertook the scavenging of the markets, and +twice a week she carried off with her a load of leaves, forked up from the mass +of refuse which littered the square. It made excellent manure. In a few minutes +the cart was filled to overflowing. Claude and Florent stretched themselves out +on the deep bed of greenery; Madame Francois grasped her reins, and Balthazar +went off at his slow, steady pace, his head somewhat bent by reason of there +being so many passengers to pull along. +</p> + +<p> +This excursion had been talked of for a long time past. Madame Francois laughed +cheerily. She was partial to the two men, and promised them an <i>omelette au +lard</i> as had never been eaten, said she, in “that villainous +Paris.” Florent and Claude revelled in the thought of this day of +lounging idleness which as yet had scarcely begun to dawn. Nanterre seemed to +be some distant paradise into which they would presently enter. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you quite comfortable?” Madame Francois asked as the cart +turned into the Rue du Pont Neuf. +</p> + +<p> +Claude declared that their couch was as soft as a bridal bed. Lying on their +backs, with their hands crossed under their heads, both men were looking up at +the pale sky from which the stars were vanishing. All along the Rue de Rivoli +they kept unbroken silence, waiting till they should have got clear of the +houses, and listening to the worthy woman as she chattered to Balthazar: +“Take your time, old man,” she said to him in kindly tones. +“We’re in no hurry; we shall be sure to get there at last.” +</p> + +<p> +On reaching the Champs Elysees, when the artist saw nothing but tree-tops on +either side of him, and the great green mass of the Tuileries gardens in the +distance, he woke up, as it were, and began to talk. When the cart had passed +the end of the Rue du Roule he had caught a glimpse of the side entrance of +Saint Eustache under the giant roofing of one of the market covered-ways. He +was constantly referring to this view of the church, and tried to give it a +symbolical meaning. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s an odd mixture,” he said, “that bit of church +framed round by an avenue of cast iron. The one will kill the other; the iron +will slay the stone, and the time is not very far off. Do you believe in +chance, Florent? For my part, I don’t think that it was any mere chance +of position that set a rose-window of Saint Eustache right in the middle of the +central markets. No; there’s a whole manifesto in it. It is modern art, +realism, naturalism—whatever you like to call it—that has grown up +and dominates ancient art. Don’t you agree with me?” +</p> + +<p> +Then, as Florent still kept silence, Claude continued: “Besides, that +church is a piece of bastard architecture, made up of the dying gasp of the +middle ages, and the first stammering of the Renaissance. Have you noticed what +sort of churches are built nowadays? They resemble all kinds of +things—libraries, observatories, pigeon-cotes, barracks; and surely no +one can imagine that the Deity dwells in such places. The pious old builders +are all dead and gone; and it would be better to cease erecting those hideous +carcasses of stone, in which we have no belief to enshrine. Since the beginning +of the century there has only been one large original pile of buildings erected +in Paris—a pile in accordance with modern developments—and +that’s the central markets. You hear me, Florent? Ah! they are a fine bit +of building, though they but faintly indicate what we shall see in the +twentieth century! And so, you see, Saint Eustache is done for! It stands there +with its rose-windows, deserted by worshippers, while the markets spread out by +its side and teem with noisy life. Yes! that’s how I understand it all, +my friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! Monsieur Claude,” said Madame Francois, laughing, “the +woman who cut your tongue-string certainly earned her money. Look at Balthazar +laying his ears back to listen to you. Come, come, get along, Balthazar!” +</p> + +<p> +The cart was slowly making its way up the incline. At this early hour of the +morning the avenue, with its double lines of iron chairs on either pathway, and +its lawns, dotted with flowerbeds and clumps of shrubbery, stretching away +under the blue shadows of the trees, was quite deserted; however, at the +Rond-Point a lady and gentleman on horseback passed the cart at a gentle trot. +Florent, who had made himself a pillow with a bundle of cabbage-leaves, was +still gazing at the sky, in which a far-stretching rosy glow was appearing. +Every now and then he would close his eyes, the better to enjoy the fresh +breeze of the morning as it fanned his face. He was so happy to escape from the +markets, and travel on through the pure air, that he remained speechless, and +did not even listen to what was being said around him. +</p> + +<p> +“And then, too, what fine jokers are those fellows who imprison art in a +toy-box!” resumed Claude, after a pause. “They are always repeating +the same idiotic words: ‘You can’t create art out of +science,’ says one; ‘Mechanical appliances kill poetry,’ says +another; and a pack of fools wail over the fate of the flowers, as though +anybody wished the flowers any harm! I’m sick of all such twaddle; I +should like to answer all that snivelling with some work of open defiance. I +should take a pleasure in shocking those good people. Shall I tell you what was +the finest thing I ever produced since I first began to work, and the one which +I recall with the greatest pleasure? It’s quite a story. When I was at my +Aunt Lisa’s on Christmas Eve last year that idiot of an Auguste, the +assistant, was setting out the shop-window. Well, he quite irritated me by the +weak, spiritless way in which he arranged the display; and at last I requested +him to take himself off, saying that I would group the things myself in a +proper manner. You see, I had plenty of bright colours to work with—the +red of the tongues, the yellow of the hams, the blue of the paper shavings, the +rosy pink of the things that had been cut into, the green of the sprigs of +heath, and the black of the black-puddings—ah! a magnificent black, which +I have never managed to produce on my palette. And naturally, the +<i>crepine</i>, the small sausages, the chitterlings, and the crumbed trotters +provided me with delicate greys and browns. I produced a perfect work of art. I +took the dishes, the plates, the pans, and the jars, and arranged the different +colours; and I devised a wonderful picture of still life, with subtle scales of +tints leading up to brilliant flashes of colour. The red tongues seemed to +thrust themselves out like greedy flames, and the black-puddings, surrounded by +pale sausages, suggested a dark night fraught with terrible indigestion. I had +produced, you see, a picture symbolical of the gluttony of Christmas Eve, when +people meet and sup—the midnight feasting, the ravenous gorging of +stomachs void and faint after all the singing of hymns.[*] At the top of +everything a huge turkey exhibited its white breast, marbled blackly by the +truffles showing through its skin. It was something barbaric and superb, +suggesting a paunch amidst a halo of glory; but there was such a cutting, +sarcastic touch about it all that people crowded to the window, alarmed by the +fierce flare of the shop-front. When my aunt Lisa came back from the kitchen +she was quite frightened, and thought I’d set the fat in the shop on +fire; and she considered the appearance of the turkey so indelicate that she +turned me out of the place while Auguste re-arranged the window after his own +idiotic fashion. Such brutes will never understand the language of a red +splotch by the side of a grey one. Ah, well! that was my masterpiece. I have +never done anything better.” +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] An allusion to the “midnight mass” usually celebrated in Roman +Catholic churches on Christmas Eve.—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +He relapsed into silence, smiling and dwelling with gratification on this +reminiscence. The cart had now reached the Arc de Triomphe, and strong currents +of air swept from the avenues across the expanse of open ground. Florent sat +up, and inhaled with zest the first odours of grass wafted from the +fortifications. He turned his back on Paris, anxious to behold the country in +the distance. At the corner of the Rue de Longchamp, Madame Francois pointed +out to him the spot where she had picked him up. This rendered him thoughtful, +and he gazed at her as she sat there, so healthy-looking and serene, with her +arms slightly extended so as to grasp the reins. She looked even handsomer than +Lisa, with her neckerchief tied over her head, her robust glow of health, and +her brusque, kindly air. When she gave a slight cluck with her tongue, +Balthazar pricked up his ears and rattled down the road at a quicker pace. +</p> + +<p> +On arriving at Nanterre, the cart turned to the left into a narrow lane, +skirted some blank walls, and finally came to a standstill at the end of a sort +of blind alley. It was the end of the world, Madame Francois used to say. The +load of vegetable leaves now had to be discharged. Claude and Florent would not +hear of the journeyman gardener, who was planting lettuces, leaving his work, +but armed themselves with pitchforks and proceeded to toss the leaves into the +manure pit. This occupation afforded them much amusement. Claude had quite a +liking for manure, since it symbolises the world and its life. The strippings +and parings of the vegetables, the scourings of the markets, the refuse that +fell from that colossal table, remained full of life, and returned to the spot +where the vegetables had previously sprouted, to warm and nourish fresh +generations of cabbages, turnips, and carrots. They rose again in fertile +crops, and once more went to spread themselves out upon the market square. +Paris rotted everything, and returned everything to the soil, which never +wearied of repairing the ravages of death. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” exclaimed Claude, as he plied his fork for the last time, +“here’s a cabbage-stalk that I’m sure I recognise. It has +grown up at least half a score of times in that corner yonder by the apricot +tree.” +</p> + +<p> +This remark made Florent laugh. But he soon became grave again, and strolled +slowly through the kitchen garden, while Claude made a sketch of the stable, +and Madame Francois got breakfast ready. The kitchen garden was a long strip of +ground, divided in the middle by a narrow path; it rose slightly, and at the +top end, on raising the head, you could perceive the low barracks of Mont +Valerien. Green hedges separated it from other plots of land, and these lofty +walls of hawthorn fringed the horizon with a curtain of greenery in such wise +that of all the surrounding country Mont Valerien alone seemed to rise +inquisitively on tip-toe in order to peer into Madame Francois’s close. +Great peacefulness came from the countryside which could not be seen. Along the +kitchen garden, between the four hedges, the May sun shone with a languid heat, +a silence disturbed only by the buzzing of insects, a somnolence suggestive of +painless parturition. Every now and then a faint cracking sound, a soft sigh, +made one fancy that one could hear the vegetables sprout into being. The +patches of spinach and sorrel, the borders of radishes, carrots, and turnips, +the beds of potatoes and cabbages, spread out in even regularity, displaying +their dark leaf-mould between their tufts of greenery. Farther away, the +trenched lettuces, onions, leeks, and celery, planted by line in long straight +rows, looked like soldiers on parade; while the peas and beans were beginning +to twine their slender tendrils round a forest of sticks, which, when June +came, they would transform into a thick and verdant wood. There was not a weed +to be seen. The garden resembled two parallel strips of carpet of a geometrical +pattern of green on a reddish ground, which were carefully swept every morning. +Borders of thyme grew like greyish fringe along each side of the pathway. +</p> + +<p> +Florent paced backwards and forwards amidst the perfume of the thyme, which the +sun was warming. He felt profoundly happy in the peacefulness and cleanliness +of the garden. For nearly a year past he had only seen vegetables bruised and +crushed by the jolting of the market-carts; vegetables torn up on the previous +evening, and still bleeding. He rejoiced to find them at home, in peace in the +dark mould, and sound in every part. The cabbages had a bulky, prosperous +appearance; the carrots looked bright and gay; and the lettuces lounged in line +with an air of careless indolence. And as he looked at them all, the markets +which he had left behind him that morning seemed to him like a vast mortuary, +an abode of death, where only corpses could be found, a charnel-house reeking +with foul smells and putrefaction. He slackened his steps, and rested in that +kitchen garden, as after a long perambulation amidst deafening noises and +repulsive odours. The uproar and the sickening humidity of the fish market had +departed from him; and he felt as though he were being born anew in the pure +fresh air. Claude was right, he thought. The markets were a sphere of death. +The soil was the life, the eternal cradle, the health of the world. +</p> + +<p> +“The omelet’s ready!” suddenly cried Madame Francois. +</p> + +<p> +When they were all three seated round the table in the kitchen, with the door +thrown open to the sunshine, they ate their breakfast with such light-hearted +gaiety that Madame Francois looked at Florent in amazement, repeating between +each mouthful: “You’re quite altered. You’re ten years +younger. It is that villainous Paris which makes you seem so gloomy. +You’ve got a little sunshine in your eyes now. Ah! those big towns do +one’s health no good, you ought to come and live here.” +</p> + +<p> +Claude laughed, and retorted that Paris was a glorious place. He stuck up for +it and all that belonged to it, even to its gutters; though at the same time +retaining a keen affection for the country. +</p> + +<p> +In the afternoon Madame Francois and Florent found themselves alone at the end +of the garden, in a corner planted with a few fruit trees. Seated on the +ground, they talked somewhat seriously together. The good woman advised Florent +with an affectionate and quite maternal kindness. She asked him endless +questions about his life, and his intentions for the future, and begged him to +remember that he might always count upon her, if ever he thought that she could +in the slightest degree contribute to his happiness. Florent was deeply +touched. No woman had ever spoken to him in that way before. Madame Francois +seemed to him like some healthy, robust plant that had grown up with the +vegetables in the leaf-mould of the garden; while the Lisas, the Normans, and +other pretty women of the markets appeared to him like flesh of doubtful +freshness decked out for exhibition. He here enjoyed several hours of perfect +well-being, delivered from all that reek of food which sickened him in the +markets, and reviving to new life amidst the fertile atmosphere of the country, +like that cabbage stalk which Claude declared he had seen sprout up more than +half a score of times. +</p> + +<p> +The two men took leave of Madame Francois at about five o’clock. They had +decided to walk back to Paris; and the market gardener accompanied them into +the lane. As she bade good-bye to Florent, she kept his hand in her own for a +moment, and said gently: “If ever anything happens to trouble you, +remember to come to me.” +</p> + +<p> +For a quarter of an hour Florent walked on without speaking, already getting +gloomy again, and reflecting that he was leaving health behind him. The road to +Courbevoie was white with dust. However, both men were fond of long walks and +the ringing of stout boots on the hard ground. Little clouds of dust rose up +behind their heels at every step, while the rays of the sinking sun darted +obliquely over the avenue, lengthening their shadows in such wise that their +heads reached the other side of the road, and journeyed along the opposite +footway. +</p> + +<p> +Claude, swinging his arms, and taking long, regular strides, complacently +watched these two shadows, whilst enjoying the rhythmical cadence of his steps, +which he accentuated by a motion of his shoulders. Presently, however, as +though just awaking from a dream, he exclaimed: “Do you know the +‘Battle of the Fat and the Thin’?” +</p> + +<p> +Florent, surprised by the question, replied in the negative; and thereupon +Claude waxed enthusiastic, talking of that series of prints in very eulogical +fashion. He mentioned certain incidents: the Fat, so swollen that they almost +burst, preparing their evening debauch, while the Thin, bent double by fasting, +looked in from the street with the appearance of envious laths; and then, +again, the Fat, with hanging cheeks, driving off one of the Thin, who had been +audacious enough to introduce himself into their midst in lowly humility, and +who looked like a ninepin amongst a population of balls. +</p> + +<p> +In these designs Claude detected the entire drama of human life, and he ended +by classifying men into Fat and Thin, two hostile groups, one of which devours +the other, and grows fat and sleek and enjoys itself. +</p> + +<p> +“Cain,” said he, “was certainly one of the Fat, and Abel one +of the Thin. Ever since that first murder, there have been rampant appetites +which have drained the life-blood of small eaters. It’s a continual +preying of the stronger upon the weaker; each swallowing his neighbour, and +then getting swallowed in his turn. Beware of the Fat, my friend.” +</p> + +<p> +He relapsed into silence for a moment, still watching their two shadows, which +the setting sun elongated more than ever. Then he murmured: “You see, we +belong to the Thin—you and I. Those who are no more corpulent than we are +don’t take up much room in the sunlight, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +Florent glanced at the two shadows, and smiled. But Claude waxed angry, and +exclaimed: “You make a mistake if you think it is a laughing matter. For +my own part, I greatly suffer from being one of the Thin. If I were one of the +Fat, I could paint at my ease; I should have a fine studio, and sell my +pictures for their weight in gold. But, instead of that, I’m one of the +Thin; and I have to grind my life out in producing things which simply make the +Fat ones shrug their shoulders. I shall die of it all in the end, I’m +sure of it, with my skin clinging to my bones, and so flattened that they will +be able to bury me between two leaves of a book. And you, too, you are one of +the Thin, a wonderful one; the very king of Thin, in fact! Do you remember your +quarrel with the fish-wives? It was magnificent; all those colossal bosoms +flying at your scraggy breast! Oh! they were simply acting from natural +instinct; they were pursuing one of the Thin just as cats pursue a mouse. The +Fat, you know, have an instinctive hatred of the Thin, to such an extent that +they must needs drive the latter from their sight, either by means of their +teeth or their feet. And that is why, if I were in your place, I should take my +precautions. The Quenus belong to the Fat, and so do the Mehudins; indeed, you +have none but Fat ones around you. I should feel uneasy under such +circumstances.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what about Gavard, and Mademoiselle Saget, and your friend +Marjolin?” asked Florent, still smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, if you like, I will classify all our acquaintances for you,” +replied Claude. “I’ve had their heads in a portfolio in my studio +for a long time past, with memoranda of the order to which they belong. Gavard +is one of the Fat, but of the kind which pretends to belong to the Thin. The +variety is by no means uncommon. Mademoiselle Saget and Madame Lecœur belong +to the Thin, but to a variety which is much to be feared—the Thin ones +whom envy drives to despair, and who are capable of anything in their craving +to fatten themselves. My friend Marjolin, little Cadine, and La Sarriette are +three Fat ones, still innocent, however, and having nothing but the guileless +hunger of youth. I may remark that the Fat, so long as they’ve not grown +old, are charming creatures. Monsieur Lebigre is one of the +Fat—don’t you think so? As for your political friends, Charvet, +Clemence, Logre, and Lacaille, they mostly belong to the Thin. I only except +that big animal Alexandre, and that prodigy Robine, who has caused me a vast +amount of annoyance.” +</p> + +<p> +The artist continued to talk in this strain from the Pont de Neuilly to the Arc +de Triomphe. He returned to some of those whom he had already mentioned, and +completed their portraits with a few characteristic touches. Logre, he said, +was one of the Thin whose belly had been placed between his shoulders. +Beautiful Lisa was all stomach, and the beautiful Norman all bosom. +Mademoiselle Saget, in her earlier life, must have certainly lost some +opportunity to fatten herself, for she detested the Fat, while, at the same +time, she despised the Thin. As for Gavard, he was compromising his position as +one of the Fat, and would end by becoming as flat as a bug. +</p> + +<p> +“And what about Madame Francois?” Florent asked. +</p> + +<p> +Claude seemed much embarrassed by this question. He cast about for an answer, +and at last stammered: +</p> + +<p> +“Madame Francois, Madame Francois—well, no, I really don’t +know; I never thought about classifying her. But she’s a dear good soul, +and that’s quite sufficient. She’s neither one of the Fat nor one +of the Thin!” +</p> + +<p> +They both laughed. They were now in front of the Arc de Triomphe. The sun, over +by the hills of Suresnes, was so low on the horizon that their colossal shadows +streaked the whiteness of the great structure even above the huge groups of +statuary, like strokes made with a piece of charcoal. This increased +Claude’s merriment, he waved his arms and bent his body; and then, as he +started on his way again, he said; “Did you notice—just as the sun +set our two heads shot up to the sky!” +</p> + +<p> +But Florent no longer smiled. Paris was grasping him again, that Paris which +now frightened him so much, after having cost him so many tears at Cayenne. +When he reached the markets night was falling, and there was a suffocating +smell. He bent his head as he once more returned to the nightmare of endless +food, whilst preserving the sweet yet sad recollection of that day of bright +health odorous with the perfume of thyme. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap05"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<p> +At about four o’clock on the afternoon of the following day Lisa betook +herself to Saint Eustache. For the short walk across the square she had arrayed +herself very seriously in a black silk gown and thick woollen shawl. The +handsome Norman, who, from her stall in the fish market, watched her till she +vanished into the church porch, was quite amazed. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo! So the fat thing’s gone in for priests now, has she?” +she exclaimed, with a sneer. “Well, a little holy water may do her +good!” +</p> + +<p> +She was mistaken in her surmises, however, for Lisa was not a devotee. She did +not observe the ordinances of the Church, but said that she did her best to +lead an honest life, and that this was all that was necessary. At the same +time, however, she disliked to hear religion spoken ill of, and often silenced +Gavard, who delighted in scandalous stories of priests and their doings. Talk +of that sort seemed to her altogether improper. Everyone, in her opinion, +should be allowed to believe as they pleased, and every scruple should be +respected. Besides, the majority of the clergy were most estimable men. She +knew Abbé Roustan, of Saint Eustache—a distinguished priest, a man of +shrewd sense, and one, she thought, whose friendship might be safely relied +upon. And she would wind up by explaining that religion was absolutely +necessary for the people; she looked upon it as a sort of police force that +helped to maintain order, and without which no government would be possible. +When Gavard went too far on this subject and asserted that the priests ought to +be turned into the streets and have their shops shut up, Lisa, shrugged her +shoulders and replied: “A great deal of good that would do! Why, before a +month was over the people would be murdering one another in the streets, and +you would be compelled to invent another God. That was just what happened in +‘93. You know very well that I’m not given to mixing with the +priests, but for all that I say that they are necessary, as we couldn’t +do without them.” +</p> + +<p> +And so when Lisa happened to enter a church she always manifested the utmost +decorum. She had bought a handsome missal, which she never opened, for use when +she was invited to a funeral or a wedding. She knelt and rose at the proper +times, and made a point of conducting herself with all propriety. She assumed, +indeed, what she considered a sort of official demeanour, such as all +well-to-do folks, tradespeople, and house-owners ought to observe with regard +to religion. +</p> + +<p> +As she entered Saint Eustache that afternoon she let the double doors, covered +with green baize, faded and worn by the frequent touch of pious hands, close +gently behind her. Then she dipped her fingers in the holy water and crossed +herself in the correct fashion. And afterwards, with hushed footsteps, she made +her way to the chapel of Saint Agnes, where two kneeling women with their faces +buried in their hands were waiting, whilst the blue skirts of a third protruded +from the confessional. Lisa seemed rather put out by the sight of these women, +and, addressing a verger who happened to pass along, wearing a black skullcap +and dragging his feet over the slabs, she inquired: “Is this Monsieur +l’Abbé Roustan’s day for hearing confessions?” +</p> + +<p> +The verger replied that his reverence had only two more penitents waiting, and +that they would not detain him long, so that if Lisa would take a chair her +turn would speedily come. She thanked him, without telling him that she had not +come to confess; and, making up her mind to wait, she began to pace the church, +going as far as the chief entrance, whence she gazed at the lofty, severe, bare +nave stretching between the brightly coloured aisles. Raising her head a +little, she examined the high altar, which she considered too plain, having no +taste for the cold grandeur of stonework, but preferring the gilding and gaudy +colouring of the side chapels. Those on the side of the Rue du Jour looked +greyish in the light which filtered through their dusty windows, but on the +side of the markets the sunset was lighting up the stained glass with lovely +tints, limpid greens and yellows in particular, which reminded Lisa of the +bottle of liqueurs in front of Monsieur Lebigre’s mirror. She came back +by this side, which seemed to be warmed by the glow of light, and took a +passing interest in the reliquaries, altar ornaments, and paintings steeped in +prismatic reflections. The church was empty, quivering with the silence that +fell from its vaulted roofing. Here and there a woman’s dress showed like +a dark splotch amidst the vague yellow of the chairs; and a low buzzing came +from the closed confessionals. As Lisa again passed the chapel of Saint Agnes +she saw the blue dress still kneeling at Abbé Roustan’s feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, if I’d wanted to confess I could have said everything in ten +seconds,” she thought, proud of her irreproachable integrity. +</p> + +<p> +Then she went on to the end of the church. Behind the high altar, in the gloom +of a double row of pillars, is the chapel of the Blessed Virgin, damp and dark +and silent. The dim stained windows only show the flowing crimson and violet +robes of saints, which blaze like flames of mystic love in the solemn, silent +adoration of the darkness. It is a weird, mysterious spot, like some +crepuscular nook of paradise solely illumined by the gleaming stars of two +tapers. The four brass lamps hanging from the roof remain unlighted, and are +but faintly seen; on espying them you think of the golden censers which the +angels swing before the throne of Mary. And kneeling on the chairs between the +pillars there are always women surrendering themselves languorously to the dim +spot’s voluptuous charm. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa stood and gazed tranquilly around her. She did not feel the least emotion, +but considered that it was a mistake not to light the lamps. Their brightness +would have given the place a more cheerful look. The gloom even struck her as +savouring of impropriety. Her face was warmed by the flames of some candles +burning in a candelabrum by her side, and an old woman armed with a big knife +was scraping off the wax which had trickled down and congealed into pale tears. +And amidst the quivering silence, the mute ecstasy of adoration prevailing in +the chapel, Lisa would distinctly hear the rumbling of the vehicles turning out +of the Rue Montmartre, behind the scarlet and purple saints on the windows, +whilst in the distance the markets roared without a moment’s pause. +</p> + +<p> +Just as Lisa was leaving the chapel, she saw the younger of the Mehudins, +Claire, the dealer in fresh water fish, come in. The girl lighted a taper at +the candelabrum, and then went to kneel behind a pillar, her knees pressed upon +the hard stones, and her face so pale beneath her loose fair hair that she +seemed a corpse. And believing herself to be securely screened from +observation, she gave way to violent emotion, and wept hot tears with a +passionate outpouring of prayer which bent her like a rushing wind. Lisa looked +on in amazement, for the Mehudins were not known to be particularly pious; +indeed, Claire was accustomed to speak of religion and priests in such terms as +to horrify one. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the meaning of this, I wonder?” pondered Lisa, as she +again made her way to the chapel of Saint Agnes. “The hussy must have +been poisoning some one or other.” +</p> + +<p> +Abbé Roustan was at last coming out of his confessional. He was a handsome man, +of some forty years of age, with a smiling, kindly air. When he recognised +Madame Quenu he grasped her hand, called her “dear lady,” and +conducted her to the vestry, where, taking off his surplice, he told her that +he would be entirely at her service in a moment. They returned, the priest in +his cassock, bareheaded, and Lisa strutting along in her shawl, and paced up +and down in front of the side-chapels adjacent to the Rue du Jour. They +conversed together in low tones. The sunlight was departing from the stained +windows, the church was growing dark, and the retreating footsteps of the last +worshippers sounded but faintly over the flagstones. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa explained her doubts and scruples to Abbé Roustan. There had never been +any question of religion between them; she never confessed, but merely +consulted him in cases of difficulty, because he was shrewd and discreet, and +she preferred him, as she sometimes said, to shady business men redolent of the +galleys. The abbe, on his side, manifested inexhaustible complaisance. He +looked up points of law for her in the Code, pointed out profitable +investments, resolved her moral difficulties with great tact, recommended +tradespeople to her, invariably having an answer ready however diverse and +complicated her requirements might be. And he supplied all this help in a +natural matter-of-fact way, without ever introducing the Deity into his talk, +or seeking to obtain any advantage either for himself or the cause of religion. +A word of thanks and a smile sufficed him. He seemed glad to have an +opportunity of obliging the handsome Madame Quenu, of whom his housekeeper +often spoke to him in terms of praise, as of a woman who was highly respected +in the neighbourhood. +</p> + +<p> +Their consultation that afternoon was of a peculiarly delicate nature. Lisa was +anxious to know what steps she might legitimately take, as a woman of honour, +with respect to her brother-in-law. Had she a right to keep a watch upon him, +and to do what she could to prevent him from compromising her husband, her +daughter, and herself? And then how far might she go in circumstances of +pressing danger? She did not bluntly put these questions to the abbe, but asked +them with such skilful circumlocutions that he was able to discuss the matter +without entering into personalities. He brought forward arguments on both sides +of the question, but the conclusion he came to was that a person of integrity +was entitled, indeed bound, to prevent evil, and was justified in using +whatever means might be necessary to ensure the triumph of that which was right +and proper. +</p> + +<p> +“That is my opinion, dear lady,” he said in conclusion. “The +question of means is always a very grave one. It is a snare in which souls of +average virtue often become entangled. But I know your scrupulous conscience. +Deliberate carefully over each step you think of taking, and if it contains +nothing repugnant to you, go on boldly. Pure natures have the marvelous gift of +purifying all that they touch.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, changing his tone of voice, he continued: “Pray give my kind +regards to Monsieur Quenu. I’ll come in to kiss my dear little Pauline +some time when I’m passing. And now good-bye, dear lady; remember that +I’m always at your service.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon he returned to the vestry. Lisa, on her way out, was curious to see +if Claire was still praying, but the girl had gone back to her eels and carp; +and in front of the Lady-chapel, which was already shrouded in darkness, there +was now but a litter of chairs overturned by the ardent vehemence of the woman +who had knelt there. +</p> + +<p> +When the handsome Lisa again crossed the square, La Normande, who had been +watching for her exit from the church, recognised her in the twilight by the +rotundity of her skirts. +</p> + +<p> +“Good gracious!” she exclaimed, “she’s been more than +an hour in there! When the priests set about cleansing her of her sins, the +choir-boys have to form in line to pass the buckets of filth and empty them in +the street!” +</p> + +<p> +The next morning Lisa went straight up to Florent’s bedroom and settled +herself there with perfect equanimity. She felt certain that she would not be +disturbed, and, moreover, she had made up her mind to tell a falsehood and say +that she had come to see if the linen was clean, should Florent by any chance +return. Whilst in the shop, however, she had observed him busily engaged in the +fish market. Seating herself in front of the little table, she pulled out the +drawer, placed it upon her knees, and began to examine its contents, taking the +greatest care to restore them to their original positions. +</p> + +<p> +First of all she came upon the opening chapters of the work on Cayenne; then +upon the drafts of Florent’s various plans and projects, his schemes for +converting the Octroi duties into taxes upon sales, for reforming the +administrative system of the markets, and all the others. These pages of small +writing, which she set herself to read, bored her extremely, and she was about +to restore the drawer to its place, feeling convinced that Florent concealed +the proofs of his wicked designs elsewhere, and already contemplating a +searching visitation of his mattress, when she discovered a photograph of La +Normande in an envelope. The impression was rather dark. La Normande was +standing up with her right arm resting on a broken column. Decked out with all +her jewels, and attired in a new silk dress, the fish-girl was smiling +impudently, and Lisa, at the sight, forgot all about her brother-in-law, her +fears, and the purpose for which she had come into the room. She became quite +absorbed in her examination of the portrait, as often happens when one woman +scrutinises the photograph of another at her ease, without fear of being seen. +Never before had she so favourable an opportunity to study her rival. She +scrutinised her hair, her nose, her mouth; held the photograph at a distance, +and then brought it closer again. And, finally, with compressed lips, she read +on the back of it, in a big, ugly scrawl: “Louise, to her friend, +Florent.” This quite scandalised her; to her mind it was a confession, +and she felt a strong impulse to take possession of the photograph, and keep it +as a weapon against her enemy. However, she slowly replaced it in the envelope +on coming to the conclusion that this course would be wrong, and reflecting +that she would always know where to find it should she want it again. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as she again began turning over the loose sheets of paper, it occurred to +her to look at the back end of the drawer, where Florent had relegated +Augustine’s needles and thread; and there, between the missal and the +Dream-book, she discovered what she sought, some extremely compromising +memoranda, simply screened from observation by a wrapper of grey paper. +</p> + +<p> +That idea of an insurrection, of the overthrow of the Empire by means of an +armed rising, which Logre had one evening propounded at Monsieur +Lebigre’s, had slowly ripened in Florent’s feverish brain. He soon +grew to see a duty, a mission in it. Therein undoubtedly lay the task to which +his escape from Cayenne and his return to Paris predestined him. Believing in a +call to avenge his leanness upon the city which wallowed in food while the +upholders of right and equity were racked by hunger in exile, he took upon +himself the duties of a justiciary, and dreamt of rising up, even in the midst +of those markets, to sweep away the reign of gluttony and drunkenness. In a +sensitive nature like his, this idea quickly took root. Everything about him +assumed exaggerated proportions, the wildest fancies possessed him. He imagined +that the markets had been conscious of his arrival, and had seized hold of him +that they might enervate him and poison him with their stenches. Then, too, +Lisa wanted to cast a spell over him, and for two or three days at a time he +would avoid her, as though she were some dissolving agency which would destroy +all his power of will should he approach too closely. However, these paroxysms +of puerile fear, these wild surgings of his rebellious brain, always ended in +thrills of the gentlest tenderness, with yearnings to love and be loved, which +he concealed with a boyish shame. +</p> + +<p> +It was more especially in the evening that his mind became blurred by all his +wild imaginings. Depressed by his day’s work, but shunning sleep from a +covert fear—the fear of the annihilation it brought with it—he +would remain later than ever at Monsieur Lebigre’s, or at the +Mehudins’; and on his return home he still refrained from going to bed, +and sat up writing and preparing for the great insurrection. By slow degrees he +devised a complete system of organisation. He divided Paris into twenty +sections, one for each arrondissement. Each section would have a chief, a sort +of general, under whose orders there were to be twenty lieutenants commanding +twenty companies of affiliated associates. Every week, among the chiefs, there +would be a consultation, which was to be held in a different place each time; +and, the better to ensure secrecy and discretion, the associates would only +come in contact with their respective lieutenants, these alone communicating +with the chiefs of the sections. It also occurred to Florent that it would be +as well that the companies should believe themselves charged with imaginary +missions, as a means of putting the police upon a wrong scent. +</p> + +<p> +As for the employment of the insurrectionary forces, that would be all +simplicity. It would, of course, be necessary to wait till the companies were +quite complete, and then advantage would be taken of the first public +commotion. They would doubtless only have a certain number of guns used for +sporting purposes in their possession, so they would commence by seizing the +police stations and guard-houses, disarming the soldiers of the line; resorting +to violence as little as possible, and inviting the men to make common cause +with the people. Afterwards they would march upon the Corps Législatif, and +thence to the Hôtel de Ville. This plan, to which Florent returned night after +night, as though it were some dramatic scenario which relieved his over-excited +nervous system, was as yet simply jotted down on scraps of paper, full of +erasures, which showed how the writer had felt his way, and revealed each +successive phase of his scientific yet puerile conception. When Lisa had +glanced through the notes, without understanding some of them, she remained +there trembling with fear; afraid to touch them further lest they should +explode in her hands like live shells. +</p> + +<p> +A last memorandum frightened her more than any of the others. It was a half +sheet of paper on which Florent had sketched the distinguishing insignia which +the chiefs and the lieutenants were to wear. By the side of these were rough +drawings of the standards which the different companies were to carry; and +notes in pencil even described what colours the banners should assume. The +chiefs were to wear red scarves, and the lieutenants red armlets. +</p> + +<p> +To Lisa this seemed like an immediate realisation of the rising; she saw all +the men with their red badges marching past the pork shop, firing bullets into +her mirrors and marble, and carrying off sausages and chitterlings from the +window. The infamous projects of her brother-in-law were surely directed +against herself—against her own happiness. She closed the drawer and +looked round the room, reflecting that it was she herself who had provided this +man with a home—that he slept between her sheets and used her furniture. +And she was especially exasperated at his keeping his abominable infernal +machine in that little deal table which she herself had used at Uncle +Gradelle’s before her marriage—a perfectly innocent, rickety little +table. +</p> + +<p> +For a while she stood thinking what she should do. In the first place, it was +useless to say anything to Quenu. For a moment it occurred to her to provoke an +explanation with Florent, but she dismissed that idea, fearing lest he would +only go and perpetrate his crime elsewhere, and maliciously make a point of +compromising them. Then gradually growing somewhat calmer, she came to the +conclusion that her best plan would be to keep a careful watch over her +brother-in-law. It would be time enough to take further steps at the first sign +of danger. She already had quite sufficient evidence to send him back to the +galleys. +</p> + +<p> +On returning to the shop again, she found Augustine in a state of great +excitement. Little Pauline had disappeared more than half an hour before, and +to Lisa’s anxious questions the young woman could only reply: “I +don’t know where she can have got to, madame. She was on the pavement +there with a little boy. I was watching them, and then I had to cut some ham +for a gentleman, and I never saw them again.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll wager it was Muche!” cried Lisa. “Ah, the young +scoundrel!” +</p> + +<p> +It was, indeed, Muche who had enticed Pauline away. The little girl, who was +wearing a new blue-striped frock that day for the first time, had been anxious +to exhibit it, and had accordingly taken her stand outside the shop, +manifesting great propriety of bearing, and compressing her lips with the grave +expression of a little woman of six who is afraid of soiling her clothes. Her +short and stiffly-starched petticoats stood out like the skirts of a ballet +girl, allowing a full view of her tightly stretched white stockings and little +sky-blue boots. Her pinafore, which hung low about her neck, was finished off +at the shoulders with an edging of embroidery, below which appeared her pretty +little arms, bare and rosy. She had small turquoise rings in her ears, a cross +at her neck, a blue velvet ribbon in her well-brushed hair; and she displayed +all her mother’s plumpness and softness—the gracefulness, indeed, +of a new doll. +</p> + +<p> +Muche had caught sight of her from the market, where he was amusing himself by +dropping little dead fishes into the gutter, following them along the kerb as +the water carried them away, and declaring that they were swimming. However, +the sight of Pauline standing in front of the shop and looking so smart and +pretty made him cross over to her, capless as he was, with his blouse ragged, +his trousers slipping down, and his whole appearance suggestive of a +seven-year-old street-arab. His mother had certainly forbidden him to play any +more with “that fat booby of a girl who was stuffed by her parents till +she almost burst”; so he stood hesitating for a moment, but at last came +up to Pauline, and wanted to feel her pretty striped frock. The little girl, +who had at first felt flattered, then put on a prim air and stepped back, +exclaiming in a tone of displeasure: “Leave me alone. Mother says +I’m not to have anything to do with you.” +</p> + +<p> +This brought a laugh to the lips of Muche, who was a wily, enterprising young +scamp. +</p> + +<p> +“What a little flat you are!” he retorted. “What does it +matter what your mother says? Let’s go and play at shoving each other, +eh?” +</p> + +<p> +He doubtless nourished some wicked idea of dirtying the neat little girl; but +she, on seeing him prepare to give her a push in the back, retreated as though +about to return inside the shop. Muche thereupon adopted a flattering tone like +a born cajoler. +</p> + +<p> +“You silly! I didn’t mean it,” said he. “How nice you +look like that! Is that little cross your mother’s?” +</p> + +<p> +Pauline perked herself up, and replied that it was her own, whereupon Muche +gently led her to the corner of the Rue Pirouette, touching her skirts the +while and expressing his astonishment at their wonderful stiffness. All this +pleased the little girl immensely. She had been very much vexed at not +receiving any notice while she was exhibiting herself outside the shop. +However, in spite of all Muche’s blandishments, she still refused to +leave the footway. +</p> + +<p> +“You stupid fatty!” thereupon exclaimed the youngster, relapsing +into coarseness. “I’ll squat you down in the gutter if you +don’t look out, Miss Fine-airs!” +</p> + +<p> +The girl was dreadfully alarmed. Muche had caught hold of her by the hand; but, +recognising his mistake in policy, he again put on a wheedling air, and began +to fumble in his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got a sou,” said he. +</p> + +<p> +The sight of the coin had a soothing effect upon Pauline. The boy held up the +sou with the tips of his fingers, and the temptation to follow it proved so +great that the girl at last stepped down into the roadway. Muche’s +diplomacy was eminently successful. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you like best?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Pauline gave no immediate answer. She could not make up her mind; there were so +many things that she liked. Muche, however, ran over a whole list of +dainties—liquorice, molasses, gum-balls, and powdered sugar. The powdered +sugar made the girl ponder. One dipped one’s fingers into it and sucked +them; it was very nice. For a while she gravely considered the matter. Then, at +last making up her mind, she said: +</p> + +<p> +“No, I like the mixed screws the best.” +</p> + +<p> +Muche thereupon took hold of her arm, and she unresistingly allowed him to lead +her away. They crossed the Rue Rambuteau, followed the broad footway skirting +the markets, and went as far as a grocer’s shop in the Rue de la +Cossonnerie which was celebrated for its mixed screws. These mixed screws are +small screws of paper in which grocers put up all sorts of damaged odds and +ends, broken sugar-plums, fragments of crystallised chestnuts—all the +doubtful residuum of their jars of sweets. Muche showed himself very gallant, +allowed Pauline to choose the screw—a blue one—paid his sou, and +did not attempt to dispossess her of the sweets. Outside, on the footway, she +emptied the miscellaneous collection of scraps into both pockets of her +pinafore; and they were such little pockets that they were quite filled. Then +in delight she began to munch the fragments one by one, wetting her fingers to +catch the fine sugary dust, with such effect that she melted the scraps of +sweets, and the pockets of her pinafore soon showed two brownish stains. Muche +laughed slily to himself. He had his arm about the girl’s waist, and +rumpled her frock at his ease whilst leading her round the corner of the Rue +Pierre Lescot, in the direction of the Place des Innocents. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll come and play now, won’t you?” he asked. +“That’s nice what you’ve got in your pockets, ain’t it? +You see that I didn’t want to do you any harm, you big silly!” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon he plunged his own fingers into her pockets, and they entered the +square together. To this spot, no doubt, he had all along intended to lure his +victim. He did the honours of the square as though it were his own private +property, and indeed it was a favourite haunt of his, where he often larked +about for whole afternoons. Pauline had never before strayed so far from home, +and would have wept like an abducted damsel had it not been that her pockets +were full of sweets. The fountain in the middle of the flowered lawn was +sending sheets of water down its tiers of basins, whilst, between the pilasters +above, Jean Goujon’s nymphs, looking very white beside the dingy grey +stonework, inclined their urns and displayed their nude graces in the grimy air +of the Saint Denis quarter. The two children walked round the fountain, +watching the water fall into the basins, and taking an interest in the grass, +with thoughts, no doubt, of crossing the central lawn, or gliding into the +clumps of holly and rhododendrons that bordered the railings of the square. +Little Muche, however, who had now effectually rumpled the back of the pretty +frock, said with his sly smile: +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s play at throwing sand at each other, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +Pauline had no will of her own left; and they began to throw the sand at each +other, keeping their eyes closed meanwhile. The sand made its way in at the +neck of the girl’s low bodice, and trickled down into her stockings and +boots. Muche was delighted to see the white pinafore become quite yellow. But +he doubtless considered that it was still far too clean. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s go and plant trees, shall we?” he exclaimed suddenly. +“I know how to make such pretty gardens.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really, gardens!” murmured Pauline full of admiration. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as the keeper of the square happened to be absent, Muche told her to make +some holes in one of the borders; and dropping on her knees in the middle of +the soft mould, and leaning forward till she lay at full length on her stomach, +she dug her pretty little arms into the ground. He, meantime, began to hunt for +scraps of wood, and broke off branches. These were the garden-trees which he +planted in the holes that Pauline made. He invariably complained, however, that +the holes were not deep enough, and rated the girl as though she were an idle +workman and he an indignant master. When she at last got up, she was black from +head to foot. Her hair was full of mould, her face was smeared with it, she +looked such a sight with her arms as black as a coalheaver’s that Muche +clapped his hands with glee, and exclaimed: “Now we must water the trees. +They won’t grow, you know, if we don’t water them.” +</p> + +<p> +That was the finishing stroke. They went outside the square, scooped the +gutter-water up in the palms of their hands, and then ran back to pour it over +the bits of wood. On the way, Pauline, who was so fat that she couldn’t +run properly, let the water trickle between her fingers on to her frock, so +that by the time of her sixth journey she looked as if she had been rolled in +the gutter. Muche chuckled with delight on beholding her dreadful condition. He +made her sit down beside him under a rhododendron near the garden they had +made, and told her that the trees were already beginning to grow. He had taken +hold of her hand and called her his little wife. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not sorry now that you came, are you,” he asked, +“instead of mooning about on the pavement, where there was nothing to do? +I know all sorts of fun we can have in the streets; you must come with me +again. You will, won’t you? But you mustn’t say anything to your +mother, mind. If you say a word to her, I’ll pull your hair the next time +I come past your shop.” +</p> + +<p> +Pauline consented to everything; and then, as a last attention, Muche filled +both pockets of her pinafore with mould. However, all the sweets were finished, +and the girl began to get uneasy, and ceased playing. Muche thereupon started +pinching her, and she burst into tears, sobbing that she wanted to go away. But +at this the lad only grinned, and played the bully, threatening that he would +not take her home at all. Then she grew terribly alarmed, and sobbed and gasped +like a maiden in the power of a libertine. Muche would certainly have ended by +punching her in order to stop her row, had not a shrill voice, the voice of +Mademoiselle Saget, exclaimed, close by: “Why, I declare it’s +Pauline! Leave her alone, you wicked young scoundrel!” +</p> + +<p> +Then the old maid took the girl by the hand, with endless expressions of +amazement at the pitiful condition of her clothes. Muche showed no alarm, but +followed them, chuckling to himself, and declaring that it was Pauline who had +wanted to come with him, and had tumbled down. +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget was a regular frequenter of the Square des Innocents. Every +afternoon she would spend a good hour there to keep herself well posted in the +gossip of the common people. On either side there is a long crescent of benches +placed end to end; and on these the poor folks who stifle in the hovels of the +neighbouring narrow streets assemble in crowds. There are withered, +chilly-looking old women in tumbled caps, and young ones in loose jackets and +carelessly fastened skirts, with bare heads and tired, faded faces, eloquent of +the wretchedness of their lives. There are some men also: tidy old buffers, +porters in greasy jackets, and equivocal-looking individuals in black silk +hats, while the foot-path is overrun by a swarm of youngsters dragging toy +carts without wheels about, filling pails with sand, and screaming and +fighting; a dreadful crew, with ragged clothes and dirty noses, teeming in the +sunshine like vermin. +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget was so slight and thin that she always managed to insinuate +herself into a place on one of the benches. She listened to what was being +said, and started a conversation with her neighbour, some sallow-faced +workingman’s wife, who sat mending linen, from time to time producing +handkerchiefs and stockings riddled with holes from a little basket patched up +with string. Moreover, Mademoiselle Saget had plenty of acquaintances here. +Amidst the excruciating squalling of the children, and the ceaseless rumble of +the traffic in the Rue Saint Denis, she took part in no end of gossip, +everlasting tales about the tradesmen of the neighbourhood, the grocers, the +butchers, and the bakers, enough, indeed, to fill the columns of a local paper, +and the whole envenomed by refusals of credit and covert envy, such as is +always harboured by the poor. From these wretched creatures she also obtained +the most disgusting revelations, the gossip of low lodging-houses and +doorkeepers’ black-holes, all the filthy scandal of the neighbourhood, +which tickled her inquisitive appetite like hot spice. +</p> + +<p> +As she sat with her face turned towards the markets, she had immediately in +front of her the square and its three blocks of houses, into the windows of +which her eyes tried to pry. She seemed to gradually rise and traverse the +successive floors right up to the garret skylights. She stared at the curtains; +based an entire drama on the appearance of a head between two shutters; and, by +simply gazing at the facades, ended by knowing the history of all the dwellers +in these houses. The Baratte Restaurant, with its wine shop, its gilt +wrought-iron <i>marquise</i>, forming a sort of terrace whence peeped the +foliage of a few plants in flower-pots, and its four low storeys, all painted +and decorated, had an especial interest for her. She gazed at its yellow +columns standing out against a background of tender blue, at the whole of its +imitation temple-front daubed on the facade of a decrepit, tumble-down house, +crowned at the summit by a parapet of painted zinc. Behind the red-striped +window-blinds she espied visions of nice little lunches, delicate suppers, and +uproarious, unlimited orgies. And she did not hesitate to invent lies about the +place. It was there, she declared, that Florent came to gorge with those two +hussies, the Mehudins, on whom he lavished his money. +</p> + +<p> +However, Pauline cried yet louder than before when the old maid took hold of +her hand. Mademoiselle Saget at first led her towards the gate of the square; +but before she got there she seemed to change her mind; for she sat down at the +end of a bench and tried to pacify the child. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, now, give over crying, or the policeman will lock you up,” +she said to Pauline. “I’ll take you home safely. You know me, +don’t you? I’m a good friend. Come, come, let me see how prettily +you can smile.” +</p> + +<p> +The child, however, was choking with sobs and wanted to go away. Mademoiselle +Saget thereupon quietly allowed her to continue weeping, reserving further +remarks till she should have finished. The poor little creature was shivering +all over; her petticoats and stockings were wet through, and as she wiped her +tears away with her dirty hands she plastered the whole of her face with earth +to the very tips of her ears. When at last she became a little calmer the old +maid resumed in a caressing tone: “Your mamma isn’t unkind, is she? +She’s very fond of you, isn’t she?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, indeed,” replied Pauline, still sobbing. +</p> + +<p> +“And your papa, he’s good to you, too, isn’t he? He +doesn’t flog you, or quarrel with your mother, does he? What do they talk +about when they go to bed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t know. I’m asleep then.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do they talk about your cousin Florent?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know.” +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget thereupon assumed a severe expression, and got up as if +about to go away. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid you are a little story-teller,” she said. +“Don’t you know that it’s very wicked to tell stories? I +shall go away and leave you, if you tell me lies, and then Muche will come back +and pinch you.” +</p> + +<p> +Pauline began to cry again at the threat of being abandoned. “Be quiet, +be quiet, you wicked little imp!” cried the old maid shaking her. +“There, there, now, I won’t go away. I’ll buy you a stick of +barley-sugar; yes, a stick of barley-sugar! So you don’t love your cousin +Florent, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, mamma says he isn’t good.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, then, so you see your mother does say something.” +</p> + +<p> +“One night when I was in bed with Mouton—I sleep with Mouton +sometimes, you know—I heard her say to father, ‘Your brother has +only escaped from the galleys to take us all back with him there.’” +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget gave vent to a faint cry, and sprang to her feet, quivering +all over. A ray of light had just broken upon her. Then without a word she +caught hold of Pauline’s hand and made her run till they reached the pork +shop, her lips meanwhile compressed by an inward smile, and her eyes glistening +with keen delight. At the corner of the Rue Pirouette, Muche, who had so far +followed them, amused at seeing the girl running along in her muddy stockings, +prudently disappeared. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa was now in a state of terrible alarm; and when she saw her daughter so +bedraggled and limp, her consternation was such that she turned the child round +and round, without even thinking of beating her. +</p> + +<p> +“She has been with little Muche,” said the old maid, in her +malicious voice. “I took her away at once, and I’ve brought her +home. I found them together in the square. I don’t know what +they’ve been up to; but that young vagabond is capable of +anything.” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa could not find a word to say; and she did not know where to take hold of +her daughter, so great was her disgust at the sight of the child’s muddy +boots, soiled stockings, torn skirts, and filthy face and hands. The blue +velvet ribbon, the earrings, and the necklet were all concealed beneath a crust +of mud. But what put the finishing touch to Lisa’s exasperation was the +discovery of the two pockets filled with mould. She stooped and emptied them, +regardless of the pink and white flooring of the shop. And as she dragged +Pauline away, she could only gasp: “Come along, you filthy thing!” +</p> + +<p> +Quite enlivened by this scene, Mademoiselle Saget now hurriedly made her way +across the Rue Rambuteau. Her little feet scarcely touched the ground; her joy +seemed to carry her along like a breeze which fanned her with a caressing +touch. She had at last found out what she had so much wanted to know! For +nearly a year she had been consumed by curiosity, and now at a single stroke +she had gained complete power over Florent! This was unhoped-for contentment, +positive salvation, for she felt that Florent would have brought her to the +tomb had she failed much longer in satisfying her curiosity about him. At +present she was complete mistress of the whole neighbourhood of the markets. +There was no longer any gap in her information. She could have narrated the +secret history of every street, shop by shop. And thus, as she entered the +fruit market, she fairly gasped with delight, in a perfect transport of +pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo, Mademoiselle Saget,” cried La Sarriette from her stall, +“what are you smiling to yourself like that about? Have you won the grand +prize in the lottery?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no. Ah, my dear, if you only knew!” +</p> + +<p> +Standing there amidst her fruit, La Sarriette, in her picturesque disarray, +looked charming. Frizzy hair fell over her brow like vine branches. Her bare +arms and neck, indeed all the rosy flesh she showed, bloomed with the freshness +of peach and cherry. She had playfully hung some cherries on her ears, black +cherries which dangled against her cheeks when she stooped, shaking with merry +laughter. She was eating currants, and her merriment arose from the way in +which she was smearing her face with them. Her lips were bright red, glistening +with the juice of the fruit, as though they had been painted and perfumed with +some seraglio face-paint. A perfume of plum exhaled from her gown, while from +the kerchief carelessly fastened across her breast came an odour of +strawberries. +</p> + +<p> +Fruits of all kinds were piled around her in her narrow stall. On the shelves +at the back were rows of melons, so-called “cantaloups” swarming +with wart-like knots, “maraichers” whose skin was covered with grey +lace-like netting, and “culs-de-singe” displaying smooth bare +bumps. In front was an array of choice fruits, carefully arranged in baskets, +and showing like smooth round cheeks seeking to hide themselves, or glimpses of +sweet childish faces, half veiled by leaves. Especially was this the case with +the peaches, the blushing peaches of Montreuil, with skin as delicate and clear +as that of northern maidens, and the yellow, sun-burnt peaches from the south, +brown like the damsels of Provence. The apricots, on their beds of moss, +gleamed with the hue of amber or with that sunset glow which so warmly colours +the necks of brunettes at the nape, just under the little wavy curls which fall +below the chignon. The cherries, ranged one by one, resembled the short lips of +smiling Chinese girls; the Montmorencies suggested the dumpy mouths of buxom +women; the English ones were longer and graver-looking; the common black ones +seemed as though they had been bruised and crushed by kisses; while the +white-hearts, with their patches of rose and white, appeared to smile with +mingled merriment and vexation. Then piles of apples and pears, built up with +architectural symmetry, often in pyramids, displayed the ruddy glow of budding +breasts and the gleaming sheen of shoulders, quite a show of nudity, lurking +modestly behind a screen of fern-leaves. There were all sorts of +varieties—little red ones so tiny that they seemed to be yet in the +cradle, shapeless “rambours” for baking, “calvilles” in +light yellow gowns, sanguineous-looking “Canadas,” blotched +“chataignier” apples, fair freckled rennets and dusky russets. Then +came the pears—the “blanquettes,” the “British +queens,” the “Beurres,” the “messirejeans,” and +the “duchesses”—some dumpy, some long and tapering, some with +slender necks, and others with thick-set shoulders, their green and yellow +bellies picked out at times with a splotch of carmine. By the side of these the +transparent plums resembled tender, chlorotic virgins; the greengages and the +Orleans plums paled as with modest innocence, while the mirabelles lay like +golden beads of a rosary forgotten in a box amongst sticks of vanilla. And the +strawberries exhaled a sweet perfume—a perfume of youth—especially +those little ones which are gathered in the woods, and which are far more +aromatic than the large ones grown in gardens, for these breathe an insipid +odour suggestive of the watering-pot. Raspberries added their fragrance to the +pure scent. The currants—red, white, and black—smiled with a +knowing air; whilst the heavy clusters of grapes, laden with intoxication, lay +languorously at the edges of their wicker baskets, over the sides of which +dangled some of the berries, scorched by the hot caresses of the voluptuous +sun. +</p> + +<p> +It was there that La Sarriette lived in an orchard, as it were, in an +atmosphere of sweet, intoxicating scents. The cheaper fruits—the +cherries, plums, and strawberries—were piled up in front of her in +paper-lined baskets, and the juice coming from their bruised ripeness stained +the stall-front, and steamed, with a strong perfume, in the heat. She would +feel quite giddy on those blazing July afternoons when the melons enveloped her +with a powerful, vaporous odour of musk; and then with her loosened kerchief, +fresh as she was with the springtide of life, she brought sudden temptation to +all who saw her. It was she—it was her arms and necks which gave that +semblance of amorous vitality to her fruit. On the stall next to her an old +woman, a hideous old drunkard, displayed nothing but wrinkled apples, pears as +flabby as herself, and cadaverous apricots of a witch-like sallowness. La +Sarriette’s stall, however, spoke of love and passion. The cherries +looked like the red kisses of her bright lips; the silky peaches were not more +delicate than her neck; to the plums she seemed to have lent the skin from her +brow and chin; while some of her own crimson blood coursed through the veins of +the currants. All the scents of the avenue of flowers behind her stall were but +insipid beside the aroma of vitality which exhaled from her open baskets and +falling kerchief. +</p> + +<p> +That day she was quite intoxicated by the scent of a large arrival of mirabelle +plums, which filled the market. She could plainly see that Mademoiselle Saget +had learnt some great piece of news, and she wished to make her talk. But the +old maid stamped impatiently whilst she repeated: “No, no; I’ve no +time. I’m in a great hurry to see Madame Lecœur. I’ve just learnt +something and no mistake. You can come with me, if you like.” +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact, she had simply gone through the fruit market for the +purpose of enticing La Sarriette to go with her. The girl could not refuse +temptation. Monsieur Jules, clean-shaven and as fresh as a cherub, was seated +there, swaying to and fro on his chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Just look after the stall for a minute, will you?” La Sarriette +said to him. “I’ll be back directly.” +</p> + +<p> +Jules, however, got up and called after her, in a thick voice: “Not I; no +fear! I’m off! I’m not going to wait an hour for you, as I did the +other day. And, besides, those cursed plums of yours quite make my head +ache.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he calmly strolled off, with his hands in his pockets, and the stall was +left to look after itself. Mademoiselle Saget went so fast that La Sarriette +had to run. In the butter pavilion a neighbour of Madame Lecœur’s told +them that she was below in the cellar; and so, whilst La Sarriette went down to +find her, the old maid installed herself amidst the cheeses. +</p> + +<p> +The cellar under the butter market is a very gloomy spot. The rows of +storerooms are protected by a very fine wire meshing, as a safeguard against +fire; and the gas jets, which are very few and far between, glimmer like yellow +splotches destitute of radiance in the heavy, malordorous atmosphere beneath +the low vault. Madame Lecœur, however, was at work on her butter at one of the +tables placed parallel with the Rue Berger, and here a pale light filtered +through the vent-holes. The tables, which are continually sluiced with a flood +of water from the taps, are as white as though they were quite new. With her +back turned to the pump in the rear, Madame Lecœur was kneading her butter in +a kind of oak box. She took some of different sorts which lay beside her, and +mixed the varieties together, correcting one by another, just as is done in the +blending of wines. Bent almost double, and showing sharp, bony shoulders, and +arms bared to the elbows, as scraggy and knotted as pea-rods, she dug her fists +into the greasy paste in front of her, which was assuming a whitish and chalky +appearance. It was trying work, and she heaved a sigh at each fresh effort. +</p> + +<p> +“Mademoiselle Saget wants to speak to you, aunt,” said La +Sarriette. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lecœur stopped her work, and pulled her cap over her hair with her +greasy fingers, seemingly quite careless of staining it. “I’ve +nearly finished. Ask her to wait a moment,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s got something very particular to tell you,” continued +La Sarriette. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t be more than a minute, my dear.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she again plunged her arms into the butter, which buried them up to the +elbows. Previously softened in warm water, it covered Madame Lecœur’s +parchment-like skin as with an oily film, and threw the big purple veins that +streaked her flesh into strong relief. La Sarriette was quite disgusted by the +sight of those hideous arms working so frantically amidst the melting mass. +However, she could recall the time when her own pretty little hands had +manipulated the butter for whole afternoons at a time. It had even been a sort +of almond-paste to her, a cosmetic which had kept her skin white and her nails +delicately pink; and even now her slender fingers retained the suppleness it +had endowed them with. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think that butter of yours will be very good, aunt,” +she continued, after a pause. “Some of the sorts seem much too +strong.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m quite aware of that,” replied Madame Lecœur, between a +couple of groans. “But what can I do? I must use everything up. There are +some folks who insist upon having butter cheap, and so cheap butter must be +made for them. Oh! it’s always quite good enough for those who buy +it.” +</p> + +<p> +La Sarriette reflected that she would hardly care to eat butter which had been +worked by her aunt’s arms. Then she glanced at a little jar full of a +sort of reddish dye. “Your colouring is too pale,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +This colouring-matter—“raucourt,” as the Parisians call it is +used to give the butter a fine yellow tint. The butter women imagine that its +composition is known only to themselves, and keep it very secret. However, it +is merely made from anotta;[*] though a composition of carrots and marigold is +at times substituted for it. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] Anotta, which is obtained from the pulp surrounding the seeds of the +<i>Bixa Orellana</i>, is used for a good many purposes besides the colouring of +butter and cheese. It frequently enters into the composition of chocolate, and +is employed to dye nankeen. Police court proceedings have also shown that it is +well known to the London milkmen, who are in the habit of adding water to their +merchandise. —Translator. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, do be quick!” La Sarriette now exclaimed, for she was +getting impatient, and was, moreover, no longer accustomed to the malodorous +atmosphere of the cellar. “Mademoiselle Saget will be going. I fancy +she’s got something very important to tell you abut my uncle +Gavard.” +</p> + +<p> +On hearing this, Madame Lecœur abruptly ceased working. She at once abandoned +both butter and dye, and did not even wait to wipe her arms. With a slight tap +of her hand she settled her cap on her head again, and made her way up the +steps, at her niece’s heels, anxiously repeating: “Do you really +think that she’ll have gone away?” +</p> + +<p> +She was reassured, however, on catching sight of Mademoiselle Saget amidst the +cheeses. The old maid had taken good care not to go away before Madame +Lecœur’s arrival. The three women seated themselves at the far end of +the stall, crowding closely together, and their faces almost touching one +another. Mademoiselle Saget remained silent for two long minutes, and then, +seeing that the others were burning with curiosity, she began, in her shrill +voice: “You know that Florent! Well, I can tell you now where he comes +from.” +</p> + +<p> +For another moment she kept them in suspense; and then, in a deep, melodramatic +voice, she said: “He comes from the galleys!” +</p> + +<p> +The cheeses were reeking around the three women. On the two shelves at the far +end of the stall were huge masses of butter: Brittany butters overflowing from +baskets; Normandy butters, wrapped in canvas, and resembling models of stomachs +over which some sculptor had thrown damp cloths to keep them from drying; while +other great blocks had been cut into, fashioned into perpendicular rocky masses +full of crevasses and valleys, and resembling fallen mountain crests gilded by +the pale sun of an autumn evening. +</p> + +<p> +Beneath the stall show-table, formed of a slab of red marble veined with grey, +baskets of eggs gleamed with a chalky whiteness; while on layers of straw in +boxes were Bondons, placed end to end, and Gournays, arranged like medals, +forming darker patches tinted with green. But it was upon the table that the +cheeses appeared in greatest profusion. Here, by the side of the pound-rolls of +butter lying on white-beet leaves, spread a gigantic Cantal cheese, cloven here +and there as by an axe; then came a golden-hued Cheshire, and next a Gruyere, +resembling a wheel fallen from some barbarian chariot; whilst farther on were +some Dutch cheeses, suggesting decapitated heads suffused with dry blood, and +having all that hardness of skulls which in France has gained them the name of +“death’s heads.” Amidst the heavy exhalations of these, a +Parmesan set a spicy aroma. Then there came three Brie cheeses displayed on +round platters, and looking like melancholy extinct moons. Two of them, very +dry, were at the full; the third, in its second quarter, was melting away in a +white cream, which had spread into a pool and flowed over the little wooden +barriers with which an attempt had been made to arrest its course. Next came +some Port Saluts, similar to antique discs, with exergues bearing their +makers’ names in print. A Romantour, in its tin-foil wrapper, suggested a +bar of nougat or some sweet cheese astray amidst all these pungent, fermenting +curds. The Roqueforts under their glass covers also had a princely air, their +fat faces marbled with blue and yellow, as though they were suffering from some +unpleasant malady such as attacks the wealthy gluttons who eat too many +truffles. And on a dish by the side of these, the hard grey goats’ milk +cheeses, about the size of a child’s fist, resembled the pebbles which +the billy-goats send rolling down the stony paths as they clamber along ahead +of their flocks. Next came the strong smelling cheeses: the Mont d’Ors, +of a bright yellow hue, and exhaling a comparatively mild odour; the Troyes, +very thick, and bruised at the edges, and of a far more pungent smell, +recalling the dampness of a cellar; the Camemberts, suggestive of high game; +the square Neufchatels, Limbourgs, Marolles, and Pont l’Eveques, each +adding its own particular sharp scent to the malodorous bouquet, till it became +perfectly pestilential; the Livarots, ruddy in hue, and as irritating to the +throat as sulphur fumes; and, lastly, stronger than all the others, the +Olivets, wrapped in walnut leaves, like the carrion which peasants cover with +branches as it lies rotting in the hedgerow under the blazing sun. +</p> + +<p> +The heat of the afternoon had softened the cheeses; the patches of mould on +their crusts were melting, and glistening with tints of ruddy bronze and +verdigris. Beneath their cover of leaves, the skins of the Olivets seemed to be +heaving as with the slow, deep respiration of a sleeping man. A Livarot was +swarming with life; and in a fragile box behind the scales a Gerome flavoured +with aniseed diffused such a pestilential smell that all around it the very +flies had fallen lifeless on the gray-veined slap of ruddy marble. +</p> + +<p> +This Gerome was almost immediately under Mademoiselle Saget’s nose; so +she drew back, and leaned her head against the big sheets of white and yellow +paper which were hanging in a corner. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she repeated, with an expression of disgust, “he comes +from the galleys! Ah, those Quenu-Gradelles have no reason to put on so many +airs!” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lecœur and La Sarriette, however, had burst into exclamations of +astonishment: “It wasn’t possible, surely! What had he done to be +sent to the galleys? Could anyone, now, have ever suspected that Madame Quenu, +whose virtue was the pride of the whole neighbourhood, would choose a convict +for a lover?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, but you don’t understand at all!” cried the old maid +impatiently. “Just listen, now, while I explain things. I was quite +certain that I had seen that great lanky fellow somewhere before.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she proceeded to tell them Florent’s story. She had recalled to mind +a vague report which had circulated of a nephew of old Gradelle being +transported to Cayenne for murdering six gendarmes at a barricade. She had even +seen this nephew on one occasion in the Rue Pirouette. The pretended cousin was +undoubtedly the same man. Then she began to bemoan her waning powers. Her +memory was quite going, she said; she would soon be unable to remember +anything. And she bewailed her perishing memory as bitterly as any learned man +might bewail the loss of his notes representing the work of a life-time, on +seeing them swept away by a gust of wind. +</p> + +<p> +“Six gendarmes!” murmured La Sarriette, admiringly; “he must +have a very heavy fist!” +</p> + +<p> +“And he’s made away with plenty of others, as well,” added +Mademoiselle Saget. “I shouldn’t advise you to meet him at +night!” +</p> + +<p> +“What a villain!” stammered out Madame Lecœur, quite terrified. +</p> + +<p> +The slanting beams of the sinking sun were now enfilading the pavilion, and the +odour of the cheeses became stronger than ever. That of the Marolles seemed to +predominate, borne hither and thither in powerful whiffs. Then, however, the +wind appeared to change, and suddenly the emanations of the Limbourgs were +wafted towards the three women, pungent and bitter, like the last gasps of a +dying man. +</p> + +<p> +“But in that case,” resumed Madame Lecœur, “he must be fat +Lisa’s brother-in-law. And we thought that he was her lover!” +</p> + +<p> +The women exchanged glances. This aspect of the case took them by surprise. +They were loth to give up their first theory. However, La Sarriette, turning to +Mademoiselle Saget, remarked: “That must have been all wrong. Besides, +you yourself say that he’s always running after the two Mehudin +girls.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly he is,” exclaimed Mademoiselle Saget sharply, fancying +that her word was doubted. “He dangles about them every evening. But, +after all, it’s no concern of ours, is it? We are virtuous women, and +what he does makes no difference to us, the horrid scoundrel!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, certainly not,” agreed the other two. “He’s a +consummate villain.” +</p> + +<p> +The affair was becoming tragical. Of course beautiful Lisa was now out of the +question, but for this they found ample consolation in prophesying that Florent +would bring about some frightful catastrophe. It was quite clear, they said, +that he had got some base design in his head. When people like him escaped from +gaol it was only to burn everything down; and if he had come to the markets it +must assuredly be for some abominable purpose. Then they began to indulge in +the wildest suppositions. The two dealers declared that they would put +additional padlocks to the doors of their storerooms; and La Sarriette called +to mind that a basket of peaches had been stolen from her during the previous +week. Mademoiselle Saget, however, quite frightened the two others by informing +them that that was not the way in which the Reds behaved; they despised such +trifles as baskets of peaches; their plan was to band themselves together in +companies of two or three hundred, kill everybody they came across, and then +plunder and pillage at their ease. That was “politics,” she said, +with the superior air of one who knew what she was talking about. Madame +Lecœur felt quite ill. She already saw Florent and his accomplices hiding in +the cellars, and rushing out during the night to set the markets in flames and +sack Paris. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! by the way,” suddenly exclaimed the old maid, “now I +think of it, there’s all that money of old Gradelle’s! Dear me, +dear me, those Quenus can’t be at all at their ease!” +</p> + +<p> +She now looked quite gay again. The conversation took a fresh turn, and the +others fell foul of the Quenus when Mademoiselle Saget had told them the +history of the treasure discovered in the salting-tub, with every particular of +which she was acquainted. She was even able to inform them of the exact amount +of the money found—eighty-five thousand francs—though neither Lisa +nor Quenu was aware of having revealed this to a living soul. However, it was +clear that the Quenus had not given the great lanky fellow his share. He was +too shabbily dressed for that. Perhaps he had never even heard of the discovery +of the treasure. Plainly enough, they were all thieves in his family. Then the +three women bent their heads together and spoke in lower tones. They were +unanimously of opinion that it might perhaps be dangerous to attack the +beautiful Lisa, but it was decidedly necessary that they should settle the Red +Republican’s hash, so that he might no longer prey upon the purse of poor +Monsieur Gavard. +</p> + +<p> +At the mention of Gavard there came a pause. The gossips looked at each other +with a circumspect air. And then, as they drew breath, they inhaled the odour +of the Camemberts, whose gamy scent had overpowered the less penetrating +emanations of the Marolles and the Limbourgs, and spread around with remarkable +power. Every now and then, however, a slight whiff, a flutelike note, came from +the Parmesan, while the Bries contributed a soft, musty scent, the gentle, +insipid sound, as it were, of damp tambourines. Next followed an overpowering +refrain from the Livarots, and afterwards the Gerome, flavoured with aniseed, +kept up the symphony with a high prolonged note, like that of a vocalist during +a pause in the accompaniment. +</p> + +<p> +“I have seen Madame Leonce,” Mademoiselle Saget at last continued, +with a significant expression. +</p> + +<p> +At this the two others became extremely attentive. Madame Leonce was the +doorkeeper of the house where Gavard lived in the Rue de la Cossonnerie. It was +an old house standing back, with its ground floor occupied by an importer of +oranges and lemons, who had had the frontage coloured blue as high as the first +floor. Madame Leonce acted as Gavard’s housekeeper, kept the keys of his +cupboards and closets, and brought him up tisane when he happened to catch +cold. She was a severe-looking woman, between fifty and sixty years of age, and +spoke slowly, but at endless length. Mademoiselle Saget, who went to drink +coffee with her every Wednesday evening, had cultivated her friendship more +closely than ever since the poultry dealer had gone to lodge in the house. They +would talk about the worthy man for hours at a time. They both professed the +greatest affection for him, and a keen desire to ensure his comfort and +happiness. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I have seen Madame Leonce,” repeated the old maid. “We +had a cup of coffee together last night. She was greatly worried. It seems that +Monsieur Gavard never comes home now before one o’clock in the morning. +Last Sunday she took him up some broth, as she thought he looked quite +ill.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, she knows very well what she’s about,” exclaimed Madame +Lecœur, whom these attentions to Gavard somewhat alarmed. +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget felt bound to defend her friend. “Oh, really, you are +quite mistaken,” said she. “Madame Leonce is much above her +position; she is quite a lady. If she wanted to enrich herself at Monsieur +Gavard’s expense, she might easily have done so long ago. It seems that +he leaves everything lying about in the most careless fashion. It’s about +that, indeed, that I want to speak to you. But you’ll not repeat anything +I say, will you? I am telling it you in strict confidence.” +</p> + +<p> +Both the others swore that they would never breathe a word of what they might +hear; and they craned out their necks with eager curiosity, whilst the old maid +solemnly resumed: “Well, then, Monsieur Gavard has been behaving very +strangely of late. He has been buying firearms—a great big +pistol—one of those which revolve, you know. Madame Leonce says that +things are awful, for this pistol is always lying about on the table or the +mantelpiece; and she daren’t dust anywhere near it. But that isn’t +all. His money—” +</p> + +<p> +“His money!” echoed Madame Lecœur, with blazing cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, he’s disposed of all his stocks and shares. He’s sold +everything, and keeps a great heap of gold in a cupboard.” +</p> + +<p> +“A heap of gold!” exclaimed La Sarriette in ecstasy. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a great heap of gold. It covers a whole shelf, and is quite +dazzling. Madame Leonce told me that one morning Gavard opened the cupboard in +her presence, and that the money quite blinded her, it shone so.” +</p> + +<p> +There was another pause. The eyes of the three women were blinking as though +the dazzling pile of gold was before them. Presently La Sarriette began to +laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“What a jolly time I would have with Jules if my uncle would give that +money to me!” said she. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lecœur, however, seemed quite overwhelmed by this revelation, crushed +beneath the weight of the gold which she could not banish from her sight. +Covetous envy thrilled her. But at last, raising her skinny arms and shrivelled +hands, her finger-nails still stuffed with butter, she stammered in a voice +full of bitter distress: “Oh, I mustn’t think of it! It’s too +dreadful!” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it would all be yours, you know, if anything were to happen to +Monsieur Gavard,” retorted Mademoiselle Saget. “If I were in your +place, I would look after my interests. That revolver means nothing good, you +may depend upon it. Monsieur Gavard has got into the hands of evil counsellors; +and I’m afraid it will all end badly.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the conversation again turned upon Florent. The three women assailed him +more violently than ever. And afterwards, with perfect composure, they began to +discuss what would be the result of all these dark goings-on so far as he and +Gavard were concerned; certainly it would be no pleasant one if there was any +gossiping. And thereupon they swore that they themselves would never repeat a +word of what they knew; not, however, because that scoundrel Florent merited +any consideration, but because it was necessary, at all costs, to save that +worthy Monsieur Gavard from being compromised. Then they rose from their seats, +and Mademoiselle Saget was burning as if to go away when the butter dealer +asked her: “All the same, in case of accident, do you think that Madame +Leonce can be trusted? I dare say she has the key of the cupboard.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that’s more than I can tell you,” replied the old +maid. “I believe she’s a very honest woman; but, after all, +there’s no telling. There are circumstances, you know, which tempt the +best of people. Anyhow, I’ve warned you both; and you must do what you +think proper.” +</p> + +<p> +As the three women stood there, taking leave of each other, the odour of the +cheeses seemed to become more pestilential than ever. It was a cacophony of +smells, ranging from the heavily oppressive odour of the Dutch cheeses and the +Gruyeres to the alkaline pungency of the Olivets. From the Cantal, the +Cheshire, and the goats’ milk cheeses there seemed to come a deep breath +like the sound of a bassoon, amidst which the sharp, sudden whiffs of the +Neufchatels, the Troyes, and the Mont d’Ors contributed short, detached +notes. And then the different odours appeared to mingle one with another, the +reek of the Limbourgs, the Port Saluts, the Geromes, the Marolles, the +Livarots, and the Pont l’Eveques uniting in one general, overpowering +stench sufficient to provoke asphyxia. And yet it almost seemed as though it +were not the cheeses but the vile words of Madame Lecœur and Mademoiselle +Saget that diffused this awful odour. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m very much obliged to you, indeed I am,” said the butter +dealer. “If ever I get rich, you shall not find yourself +forgotten.” +</p> + +<p> +The old maid still lingered in the stall. Taking up a Bondon, she turned it +round, and put it down on the slab again. Then she asked its price. +</p> + +<p> +“To me!” she added, with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nothing to you,” replied Madame Lecœur. “I’ll +make you a present of it.” And again she exclaimed: “Ah, if I were +only rich!” +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget thereupon told her that some day or other she would be rich. +The Bondon had already disappeared within the old maid’s bag. And now the +butter dealer returned to the cellar, while Mademoiselle Saget escorted La +Sarriette back to her stall. On reaching it they talked for a moment or two +about Monsieur Jules. The fruits around them diffused a fresh scent of summer. +</p> + +<p> +“It smells much nicer here than at your aunt’s,” said the old +maid. “I felt quite ill a little time ago. I can’t think how she +manages to exist there. But here it’s very sweet and pleasant. It makes +you look quite rosy, my dear.” +</p> + +<p> +La Sarriette began to laugh, for she was fond of compliments. Then she served a +lady with a pound of mirabelle plums, telling her that they were as sweet as +sugar. +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to buy some of those mirabelles too,” murmured +Mademoiselle Saget, when the lady had gone away; “only I want so few. A +lone woman, you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Take a handful of them,” exclaimed the pretty brunette. +“That won’t ruin me. Send Jules back to me if you see him, will +you? You’ll most likely find him smoking his cigar on the first bench to +the right as you turn out of the covered way.” +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget distended her fingers as widely as possible in order to take +a handful of mirabelles, which joined the Bondon in the bag. Then she pretended +to leave the market, but in reality made a detour by one of the covered ways, +thinking, as she walked slowly along, that the mirabelles and Bondon would not +make a very substantial dinner. When she was unable, during her afternoon +perambulations, to wheedle stallkeepers into filling her bag for her, she was +reduced to dining off the merest scraps. So she now slyly made her way back to +the butter pavilions, where, on the side of the Rue Berger, at the back of the +offices of the oyster salesmen, there were some stalls at which cooked meat was +sold. Every morning little closed box-like carts, lined with zinc and furnished +with ventilators, drew up in front of the larger Parisian kitchens and carried +away the leavings of the restaurants, the embassies, and State Ministries. +These leavings were conveyed to the market cellars and there sorted. By nine +o’clock plates of food were displayed for sale at prices ranging from +three to five sous, their contents comprising slices of meat, scraps of game, +heads and tails of fishes, bits of galantine, stray vegetables, and, by way of +dessert, cakes scarcely cut into, and other confectionery. Poor starving +wretches, scantily-paid clerks, and women shivering with fever were to be seen +crowding around, and the street lads occasionally amused themselves by hooting +the pale-faced individuals, known to be misers, who only made their purchases +after slyly glancing about them to see that they were not observed.[*] +Mademoiselle Saget wriggled her way to a stall, the keeper of which boasted +that the scraps she sold came exclusively from the Tuileries. One day, indeed, +she had induced the old maid to buy a slice of leg of mutton by informing that +it had come from the plate of the Emperor himself; and this slice of mutton, +eaten with no little pride, had been a soothing consolation to Mademoiselle +Saget’s vanity. The wariness of her approach to the stall was, moreover, +solely caused by her desire to keep well with the neighbouring shop people, +whose premises she was eternally haunting without ever buying anything. Her +usual tactics were to quarrel with them as soon as she had managed to learn +their histories, when she would bestow her patronage upon a fresh set, desert +it in due course, and then gradually make friends again with those with whom +she had quarrelled. In this way she made the complete circuit of the market +neighbourhood, ferreting about in every shop and stall. Anyone would have +imagined that she consumed an enormous amount of provisions, whereas, in point +of fact, she lived solely upon presents and the few scraps which she was +compelled to buy when people were not in the giving vein. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] The dealers in these scraps are called <i>bijoutiers</i>, or jewellers, +whilst the scraps themselves are known as <i>harlequins</i>, the idea being +that they are of all colours and shapes when mingled together, thus suggesting +harlequin’s variegated attire.—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +On that particular evening there was only a tall old man standing in front of +the stall. He was sniffing at a plate containing a mixture of meat and fish. +Mademoiselle Saget, in her turn, began to sniff at a plate of cold fried fish. +The price of it was three sous, but, by dint of bargaining, she got it for two. +The cold fish then vanished into the bag. Other customers now arrived, and with +a uniform impulse lowered their noses over the plates. The smell of the stall +was very disgusting, suggestive alike of greasy dishes and a dirty sink.[*] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] Particulars of the strange and repulsive trade in harlequins, which even +nowadays is not extinct, will be found in Privat d’Anglemont’s +well-known book <i>Paris Anecdote</i>, written at the very period with which M. +Zola deals in the present work. My father, Henry Vizetelly, also gave some +account of it in his <i>Glances Back through Seventy Years</i>, in a chapter +describing the odd ways in which certain Parisians contrive to get a +living.—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +“Come and see me to-morrow,” the stallkeeper called out to the old +maid, “and I’ll put something nice on one side for you. +There’s going to be a grand dinner at the Tuileries to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget was just promising to come, when, happening to turn round, +she discovered Gavard looking at her and listening to what she was saying. She +turned very red, and, contracting her skinny shoulders, hurried away, affecting +not to recognise him. Gavard, however, followed her for a few yards, shrugging +his shoulders and muttering to himself that he was no longer surprised at the +old shrew’s malice, now he knew that “she poisoned herself with the +filth carted away from the Tuileries.” +</p> + +<p> +On the very next morning vague rumours began to circulate in the markets. +Madame Lecœur and La Sarriette were in their own fashion keeping the oaths of +silence they had taken. For her own part, Mademoiselle Saget warily held her +tongue, leaving the two others to circulate the story of Florent’s +antecedents. At first only a few meagre details were hawked about in low tones; +then various versions of the facts got into circulation, incidents were +exaggerated, and gradually quite a legend was constructed, in which Florent +played the part of a perfect bogey man. He had killed ten gendarmes at the +barricade in the Rue Greneta, said some; he had returned to France on a pirate +ship whose crew scoured the seas to murder everyone they came across, said +others; whilst a third set declared that ever since his arrival he had been +observed prowling about at nighttime with suspicious-looking characters, of +whom he was undoubtedly the leader. Soon the imaginative market women indulged +in the highest flights of fancy, revelled in the most melodramatic ideas. There +was talk of a band of smugglers plying their nefarious calling in the very +heart of Paris, and of a vast central association formed for systematically +robbing the stalls in the markets. Much pity was expressed for the +Quenu-Gradelles, mingled with malicious allusions to their uncle’s +fortune. That fortune was an endless subject of discussion. The general opinion +was that Florent had returned to claim his share of the treasure; however, as +no good reason was forthcoming to explain why the division had not taken place +already, it was asserted that Florent was waiting for some opportunity which +might enable him to pocket the whole amount. The Quenu-Gradelles would +certainly be found murdered some morning, it was said; and a rumour spread that +dreadful quarrels already took place every night between the two brothers and +beautiful Lisa. +</p> + +<p> +When these stories reached the ears of the beautiful Norman, she shrugged her +shoulders and burst out laughing. +</p> + +<p> +“Get away with you!” she cried, “you don’t know him. +Why, the dear fellow’s as gentle as a lamb.” +</p> + +<p> +She had recently refused the hand of Monsieur Lebigre, who had at last ventured +upon a formal proposal. For two months past he had given the Mehudins a bottle +of some liqueur every Sunday. It was Rose who brought it, and she was always +charged with a compliment for La Normande, some pretty speech which she +faithfully repeated, without appearing in the slightest degree embarrassed by +the peculiar commission. When Monsieur Lebigre was rejected, he did not pine, +but to show that he took no offence and was still hopeful, he sent Rose on the +following Sunday with two bottles of champagne and a large bunch of flowers. +She gave them into the handsome fish-girl’s own hands, repeating, as she +did so, the wine dealer’s prose madrigal: +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur Lebigre begs you to drink this to his health, which has been +greatly shaken by you know what. He hopes that you will one day be willing to +cure him, by being for him as pretty and as sweet as these flowers.” +</p> + +<p> +La Normande was much amused by the servant’s delighted air. She kissed +her as she spoke to her of her master, and asked her if he wore braces, and +snored at nights. Then she made her take the champagne and flowers back with +her. “Tell Monsieur Lebigre,” said she, “that he’s not +to send you here again. It quite vexes me to see you coming here so meekly, +with your bottles under your arms.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, he wishes me to come,” replied Rose, as she went away. +“It is wrong of you to distress him. He is a very handsome man.” +</p> + +<p> +La Normande, however, was quite conquered by Florent’s affectionate +nature. She continued to follow Muche’s lessons of an evening in the +lamplight, indulging the while in a dream of marrying this man who was so kind +to children. She would still keep her fish stall, while he would doubtless rise +to a position of importance in the administrative staff of the markets. This +dream of hers, however, was scarcely furthered by the tutor’s respectful +bearing towards her. He bowed to her, and kept himself at a distance, when she +have liked to laugh with him, and love him as she knew how to love. But it was +just this covert resistance on Florent’s part which continually brought +her back to the dream of marrying him. She realised that he lived in a loftier +sphere than her own; and by becoming his wife she imagined that her vanity +would reap no little satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +She was greatly surprised when she learned the history of the man she loved. He +had never mentioned a word of those things to her; and she scolded him about +it. His extraordinary adventures only increased her tenderness for him, and for +evenings together she made him relate all that had befallen him. She trembled +with fear lest the police should discover him; but he reassured her, saying +that the matter was now too old for the police to trouble their heads about it. +One evening he told her of the woman on the Boulevard Montmartre, the woman in +the pink bonnet, whose blood had dyed his hands. He still frequently thought of +that poor creature. His anguish-stricken mind had often dwelt upon her during +the clear nights he had passed in Cayenne; and he had returned to France with a +wild dream of meeting her again on some footway in the bright sunshine, even +though he could still feel her corpse-like weight across his legs. And yet, he +thought, she might perhaps have recovered. At times he received quite a shock +while he was walking through the streets, on fancying that he recognised her; +and he followed pink bonnets and shawl-draped shoulders with a wildly beating +heart. When he closed his eyes he could see her walking, and advancing towards +him; but she let her shawl slip down, showing the two red stains on her +chemisette; and then he saw that her face was pale as wax, and that her eyes +were blank, and her lips distorted by pain. For a long time he suffered from +not knowing her name, from being forced to look upon her as a mere shadow, +whose recollection filled him with sorrow. Whenever any idea of woman crossed +his mind it was always she that rose up before him, as the one pure, tender +wife. He often found himself fancying that she might be looking for him on that +boulevard where she had fallen dead, and that if she had met him a few seconds +sooner she would have given him a life of joy. And he wished for no other wife; +none other existed for him. When he spoke of her, his voice trembled to such a +degree that La Normande, her wits quickened by her love, guessed his secret, +and felt jealous. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s really much better that you shouldn’t see her +again,” she said maliciously. “She can’t look particularly +nice by this time.” +</p> + +<p> +Florent turned pale with horror at the vision which these words evoked. His +love was rotting in her grave. He could not forgive La Normande’s savage +cruelty, which henceforth made him see the grinning jaws and hollow eyes of a +skeleton within that lovely pink bonnet. Whenever the fish-girl tried to joke +with him on the subject he turned quite angry, and silenced her with almost +coarse language. +</p> + +<p> +That, however, which especially surprised the beautiful Norman in these +revelations was the discovery that she had been quite mistaken in supposing +that she was enticing a lover away from handsome Lisa. This so diminished her +feeling of triumph, that for a week or so her love for Florent abated. She +consoled herself, however, with the story of the inheritance, no longer calling +Lisa a strait-laced prude, but a thief who kept back her brother-in-law’s +money, and assumed sanctimonious airs to deceive people. Every evening, while +Muche took his writing lesson, the conversation turned upon old +Gradelle’s treasure. +</p> + +<p> +“Did anyone ever hear of such an idea?” the fish-girl would +exclaim, with a laugh. “Did the old man want to salt his money, since he +put it in a salting-tub? Eighty-five thousand francs! That’s a nice sum +of money! And, besides, the Quenus, no doubt, lied about it—there was +perhaps two or three times as much. Ah, if I were in your place, I +shouldn’t lose any time about claiming my share; indeed I +shouldn’t.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve no need of anything,” was Florent’s invariable +answer. “I shouldn’t know what to do with the money if I had +it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you’re no man!” cried La Normande, losing all control +over herself. “It’s pitiful! Can’t you see that the Quenus +are laughing at you? That great fat thing passes all her husband’s old +clothes over to you. I’m not saying this to hurt your feelings, but +everybody makes remarks about it. Why, the whole neighbourhood has seen the +greasy pair of trousers, which you’re now wearing, on your +brother’s legs for three years and more! If I were in your place +I’d throw their dirty rags in their faces, and insist upon my rights. +Your share comes to forty-two thousand five hundred francs, doesn’t it? +Well, I shouldn’t go out of the place till I’d got forty-two +thousand five hundred francs.” +</p> + +<p> +It was useless for Florent to explain to her that his sister-in-law had offered +to pay him his share, that she was taking care of it for him, and that it was +he himself who had refused to receive it. He entered into the most minute +particulars, seeking to convince her of the Quenus’ honesty, but she +sarcastically replied: “Oh, yes, I dare say! I know all about their +honesty. That fat thing folds it up every morning and puts it away in her +wardrobe for fear it should get soiled. Really, I quite pity you, my poor +friend. It’s easy to gull you, for you can’t see any further than a +child of five. One of these days she’ll simply put your money in her +pocket, and you’ll never look on it again. Shall I go, now, and claim +your share for you, just to see what she says? There’d be some fine fun, +I can tell you! I’d either have the money, or I’d break everything +in the house—I swear I would!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, it’s no business of yours,” Florent replied, quite +alarmed. “I’ll see about it; I may possibly be wanting some money +soon.” +</p> + +<p> +At this La Normande assumed an air of doubt, shrugged her shoulders, and told +him that he was really too chicken-hearted. Her one great aim now was to +embroil him with the Quenu-Gradelles, and she employed every means she could +think of to effect her purpose, both anger and banter, as well as affectionate +tenderness. She also cherished another design. When she had succeeded in +marrying Florent, she would go and administer a sound cuffing to beautiful +Lisa, if the latter did not yield up the money. As she lay awake in her bed at +night she pictured every detail of the scene. She saw herself sitting down in +the middle of the pork shop in the busiest part of the day, and making a +terrible fuss. She brooded over this idea to such an extent, it obtained such a +hold upon her, that she would have been willing to marry Florent simply in +order to be able to go and demand old Gradelle’s forty-two thousand five +hundred francs. +</p> + +<p> +Old Madame Mehudin, exasperated by La Normande’s dismissal of Monsieur +Lebigre, proclaimed everywhere that her daughter was mad, and that the +“long spindle-shanks” must have administered some insidious drug to +her. When she learned the Cayenne story, her anger was terrible. She called +Florent a convict and murderer, and said it was no wonder that his villainy had +kept him lank and flat. Her versions of Florent’s biography were the most +horrible of all that were circulated in the neighbourhood. At home she kept a +moderately quiet tongue in her head, and restricted herself to muttered +indignation, and a show of locking up the drawer where the silver was kept +whenever Florent arrived. One day, however, after a quarrel with her elder +daughter, she exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Things can’t go on much longer like this! It is that vile man who +is setting you against me. Take care that you don’t try me too far, or +I’ll go and denounce him to the police. I will, as true as I stand +here!” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll denounce him!” echoed La Normande, trembling +violently, and clenching her fists. “You’d better not! Ah, if you +weren’t my mother——” +</p> + +<p> +At this, Claire, who was a spectator of the quarrel, began to laugh, with a +nervous laughter that seemed to rasp her throat. For some time past she had +been gloomier and more erratic than ever, invariably showing red eyes and a +pale face. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what would you do?” she asked. “Would you give her a +cuffing? Perhaps you’d like to give me, your sister, one as well? I dare +say it will end in that. But I’ll clear the house of him. I’ll go +to the police to save mother the trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, as La Normande almost choked with the angry threats that rose to her +throat, the younger girl added: “I’ll spare you the exertion of +beating me. I’ll throw myself into the river as I come back over the +bridge.” +</p> + +<p> +Big tears were streaming from her eyes; and she rushed off to her bedroom, +banging the doors violently behind her. Old Madame Mehudin said nothing more +about denouncing Florent. Muche, however, told La Normande that he met his +grandma talking with Monsieur Lebigre in every corner of the neighbourhood. +</p> + +<p> +The rivalry between the beautiful Norman and the beautiful Lisa now assumed a +less aggressive but more disturbing character. In the afternoon, when the +red-striped canvas awning was drawn down in front of the pork shop, the +fish-girl would remark that the big fat thing felt afraid, and was concealing +herself. She was also much exasperated by the occasional lowering of the +window-blind, on which was pictured a hunting-breakfast in a forest glade, with +ladies and gentlemen in evening dress partaking of a red pasty, as big as +themselves, on the yellow grass. +</p> + +<p> +Beautiful Lisa, however, was by no means afraid. As soon as the sun began to +sink she drew up the blind; and, as she sat knitting behind her counter, she +serenely scanned the market square, where numerous urchins were poking about in +the soil under the gratings which protected the roots of the plane-trees, while +porters smoked their pipes on the benches along the footway, at either end of +which was an advertisement column covered with theatrical posters, alternately +green, yellow, red, and blue, like some harlequin’s costume. And while +pretending to watch the passing vehicles, Lisa would really be scrutinising the +beautiful Norman. She might occasionally be seen bending forward, as though her +eyes were following the Bastille and Place Wagram omnibus to the Pointe Saint +Eustache, where it always stopped for a time. But this was only a manoeuvre to +enable her to get a better view of the fish-girl, who, as a set-off against the +blind, retorted by covering her head and fish with large sheets of brown paper, +on the pretext of warding off the rays of the setting sun. The advantage at +present was on Lisa’s side, for as the time for striking the decisive +blow approached she manifested the calmest serenity of bearing, whereas her +rival, in spite of all her efforts to attain the same air of distinction, +always lapsed into some piece of gross vulgarity, which she afterwards +regretted. La Normande’s ambition was to look “like a lady.” +Nothing irritated her more than to hear people extolling the good manners of +her rival. This weak point of hers had not escaped old Madame Mehudin’s +observation, and she now directed all her attacks upon it. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw Madame Quenu standing at her door this evening,” she would +say sometimes. “It is quite amazing how well she wears. And she’s +so refined-looking, too; quite the lady, indeed. It’s the counter that +does it, I’m sure. A fine counter gives a woman such a respectable +look.” +</p> + +<p> +In this remark there was a veiled allusion to Monsieur Lebigre’s +proposal. The beautiful Norman would make no reply; but for a moment or two she +would seem deep in thought. In her mind’s eye she saw herself behind the +counter of the wine shop at the other corner of the street, forming a pendent, +as it were, to beautiful Lisa. It was this that first shook her love for +Florent. +</p> + +<p> +To tell the truth, it was now becoming a very difficult thing to defend +Florent. The whole neighbourhood was in arms against him; it seemed as though +everyone had an immediate interest in exterminating him. Some of the market +people swore that he had sold himself to the police; while others asserted that +he had been seen in the butter-cellar, attempting to make holes in the wire +grating, with the intention of tossing lighted matches through them. There was +a vast increase of slander, a perfect flood of abuse, the source of which could +not be exactly determined. The fish pavilion was the last one to join in the +revolt against the inspector. The fish-wives liked Florent on account of his +gentleness, and for some time they defended him; but, influenced by the +stallkeepers of the butter and fruit pavilions, they at last gave way. Then +hostilities began afresh between these huge, swelling women and the lean and +lank inspector. He was lost in the whirl of the voluminous petticoats and buxom +bodices which surged furiously around his scraggy shoulders. However, he +understood nothing, but pursued his course towards the realisation of his one +haunting idea. +</p> + +<p> +At every hour of the day, and in every corner of the market, Mademoiselle +Saget’s black bonnet was now to be seen in the midst of this outburst of +indignation. Her little pale face seemed to multiply. She had sworn a terrible +vengeance against the company which assembled in Monsieur Lebigre’s +little cabinet. She accused them of having circulated the story that she lived +on waste scraps of meat. The truth was that old Gavard had told the others one +evening that the “old nanny-goat” who came to play the spy upon +them gorged herself with the filth which the Bonapartist clique tossed away. +Clemence felt quite ill on hearing this, and Robine hurriedly gulped down a +draught of beer, as though to wash his throat. In Gavard’s opinion, the +scraps of meat left on the Emperor’s plate were so much political ordure, +the putrid remnants of all the filth of the reign. Thenceforth the party at +Monsieur Lebigre’s looked on Mademoiselle Saget as a creature whom no one +could touch except with tongs. She was regarded as some unclean animal that +battened upon corruption. Clemence and Gavard circulated the story so freely in +the markets that the old maid found herself seriously injured in her +intercourse with the shopkeepers, who unceremoniously bade her go off to the +scrap-stalls when she came to haggle and gossip at their establishments without +the least intention of buying anything. This cut her off from her sources of +information; and sometimes she was altogether ignorant of what was happening. +She shed tears of rage, and in one such moment of anger she bluntly said to La +Sarriette and Madame Lecœur: “You needn’t give me any more hints: +I’ll settle your Gavard’s hash for him now—that I +will!” +</p> + +<p> +The two women were rather startled, but refrained from all protestation. The +next day, however, Mademoiselle Saget had calmed down, and again expressed much +tender-hearted pity for that poor Monsieur Gavard who was so badly advised, and +was certainly hastening to his ruin. +</p> + +<p> +Gavard was undoubtedly compromising himself. Ever since the conspiracy had +begun to ripen he had carried the revolver, which caused Madame Leonce so much +alarm, in his pocket wherever he went. It was a big, formidable-looking weapon, +which he had bought of the principal gunmaker in Paris. He exhibited it to all +the women in the poultry market, like a schoolboy who has got some prohibited +novel hidden in his desk. First he would allow the barrel to peer out of his +pocket, and call attention to it with a wink. Then he affected a mysterious +reticence, indulged in vague hints and insinuations—played, in short, the +part of a man who revelled in feigning fear. The possession of this revolver +gave him immense importance, placed him definitely amongst the dangerous +characters of Paris. Sometimes, when he was safe inside his stall, he would +consent to take it out of his pocket, and exhibit it to two or three of the +women. He made them stand before him so as to conceal him with their +petticoats, and then he brandished the weapon, cocked the lock, caused the +breech to revolve, and took aim at one of the geese or turkeys that were +hanging in the stall. He was immensely delighted at the alarm manifested by the +women; but eventually reassured them by stating that the revolver was not +loaded. However, he carried a supply of cartridges about with him, in a case +which he opened with the most elaborate precautions. When he had allowed his +friends to feel the weight of the cartridges, he would again place both weapon +and ammunition in his pockets. And afterwards, crossing his arms over his +breast, he would chatter away jubilantly for hours. +</p> + +<p> +“A man’s a man when he’s got a weapon like that,” he +would say with a swaggering air. “I don’t care a fig now for the +gendarmes. A friend and I went to try it last Sunday on the plain of Saint +Denis. Of course, you know, a man doesn’t tell everyone that he’s +got a plaything of that sort. But, ah! my dears, we fired at a tree, and hit it +every time. Ah, you’ll see, you’ll see. You’ll hear of +Anatole one of these days, I can tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +He had bestowed the name of Anatole upon the revolver; and he carried things so +far that in a week’s time both weapon and cartridges were known to all +the women in the pavilion. His friendship for Florent seemed to them +suspicious; he was too sleek and rich to be visited with the hatred that was +manifested towards the inspector; still, he lost the esteem of the shrewder +heads amongst his acquaintances, and succeeded in terrifying the timid ones. +This delighted him immensely. +</p> + +<p> +“It is very imprudent for a man to carry firearms about with him,” +said Mademoiselle Saget. “Monsieur Gavard’s revolver will end by +playing him a nasty trick.” +</p> + +<p> +Gavard now showed the most jubilant bearing at Monsieur Lebigre’s. +Florent, since ceasing to take his meals with the Quenus, had come almost to +live in the little “cabinet.” He breakfasted, dined, and constantly +shut himself up there. In fact he had converted the place almost into a sort of +private room of his own, where he left his old coats and books and papers lying +about. Monsieur Lebigre had offered no objection to these proceedings; indeed, +he had even removed one of the tables to make room for a cushioned bench, on +which Florent could have slept had he felt so inclined. When the inspector +manifested any scruples about taking advantage of Monsieur Lebigre’s +kindness, the latter told him to do as he pleased, saying that the whole house +was at his service. Logre also manifested great friendship for him, and even +constituted himself his lieutenant. He was constantly discussing affairs with +him, rendering an account of the steps he was supposed to take, and furnishing +the names of newly affiliated associates. Logre, indeed, had now assumed the +duties of organiser; on him rested the task of bringing the various plotters +together, forming the different sections, and weaving each mesh of the gigantic +net into which Paris was to fall at a given signal. Florent meantime remained +the leader, the soul of the conspiracy. +</p> + +<p> +However, much as the hunchback seemed to toil, he attained no appreciable +result. Although he had loudly asserted that in each district of Paris he knew +two or three groups of men as determined and trustworthy as those who met at +Monsieur Lebigre’s, he had never yet given any precise information about +them, but had merely mentioned a name here and there, and recounted stories of +endless alleged secret expeditions, and the wonderful enthusiasm that the +people manifested for the cause. He made a great point of the hand-grasps he +had received. So-and-so, whom he thou’d and thee’d, had squeezed +his fingers and declared he would join them. At the Gros Caillou a big, burly +fellow, who would make a magnificent sectional leader, had almost dislocated +his arm in his enthusiasm; while in the Rue Popincourt a whole group of working +men had embraced him. He declared that at a day’s notice a hundred +thousand active supporters could be gathered together. Each time that he made +his appearance in the little room, wearing an exhausted air, and dropping with +apparent fatigue on the bench, he launched into fresh variations of his usual +reports, while Florent duly took notes of what he said, and relied on him to +realise his many promises. And soon in Florent’s pockets the plot assumed +life. The notes were looked upon as realities, as indisputable facts, upon +which the entire plan of the rising was constructed. All that now remained to +be done was to wait for a favourable opportunity, and Logre asserted with +passionate gesticulations that the whole thing would go on wheels. +</p> + +<p> +Florent was at last perfectly happy. His feet no longer seemed to tread the +ground; he was borne aloft by his burning desire to pass sentence on all the +wickedness he had seen committed. He had all the credulity of a little child, +all the confidence of a hero. If Logre had told him that the Genius of Liberty +perched on the Colonne de Juillet[*] would have come down and set itself at +their head, he would hardly have expressed any surprise. In the evenings, at +Monsieur Lebigre’s, he showed great enthusiasm and spoke effusively of +the approaching battle, as though it were a festival to which all good and +honest folks would be invited. But although Gavard in his delight began to play +with his revolver, Charvet got more snappish than ever, and sniggered and +shrugged his shoulders. His rival’s assumption of the leadership angered +him extremely; indeed, quite disgusted him with politics. One evening when, +arriving early, he happened to find himself alone with Logre and Lebigre, he +frankly unbosomed himself. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] The column erected on the Place de la Bastille in memory of the Revolution +of July 1830, by which Charles X was dethroned.—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +“Why,” said he, “that fellow Florent hasn’t an idea +about politics, and would have done far better to seek a berth as writing +master in a ladies’ school! It would be nothing short of a misfortune if +he were to succeed, for, with his visionary social sentimentalities, he would +crush us down beneath his confounded working men! It’s all that, you +know, which ruins the party. We don’t need any more tearful +sentimentalists, humanitarian poets, people who kiss and slobber over each +other for the merest scratch. But he won’t succeed! He’ll just get +locked up, and that will be the end of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Logre and the wine dealer made no remark, but allowed Charvet to talk on +without interruption. +</p> + +<p> +“And he’d have been locked up long ago,” he continued, +“if he were anything as dangerous as he fancies he is. The airs he puts +on just because he’s been to Cayenne are quite sickening. But I’m +sure that the police knew of his return the very first day he set foot in +Paris, and if they haven’t interfered with him it’s simply because +they hold him in contempt.” +</p> + +<p> +At this Logre gave a slight start. +</p> + +<p> +“They’ve been dogging me for the last fifteen years,” resumed +the Hébertist, with a touch of pride, “but you don’t hear me +proclaiming it from the house-tops. However, he won’t catch me taking +part in his riot. I’m not going to let myself be nabbed like a mere fool. +I dare say he’s already got half a dozen spies at his heels, who will +take him by the scruff of the neck whenever the authorities give the +word.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, dear, no! What an idea!” exclaimed Monsieur Lebigre, who +usually observed complete silence. He was rather pale, and looked at Logre, who +was gently rubbing his hump against the partition. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s mere imagination,” murmured the hunchback. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; call it imagination, if you like,” replied the tutor; +“but I know how these things are arranged. At all events, I don’t +mean to let the ‘coppers’ nab me this time. You others, of course, +will please yourselves, but if you take my advice—and you especially, +Monsieur Lebigre—you’ll take care not to let your establishment be +compromised, or the authorities will close it.” +</p> + +<p> +At this Logre could not restrain a smile. On several subsequent occasions +Charvet plied him and Lebigre with similar arguments, as though he wished to +detach them from Florent’s project by frightening them; and he was much +surprised at the calmness and confidence which they both continued to manifest. +For his own part, he still came pretty regularly in the evening with Clemence. +The tall brunette was no longer a clerk at the fish auctions—Monsieur +Manoury had discharged her. +</p> + +<p> +“Those salesmen are all scoundrels!” Logre growled, when he heard +of her dismissal. +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon Clemence, who, lolling back against the partition, was rolling a +cigarette between her long, slim fingers, replied in a sharp voice: “Oh, +it’s fair fighting! We don’t hold the same political views, you +know. That fellow Manoury, who’s making no end of money, would lick the +Emperor’s boots. For my part, if I were an auctioneer, I wouldn’t +keep him in my service for an hour.” +</p> + +<p> +The truth was that she had been indulging in some clumsy pleasantry, amusing +herself one day by inscribing in the sale-book, alongside of the dabs and skate +and mackerel sold by auction, the names of some of the best-known ladies and +gentlemen of the Court. This bestowal of piscine names upon high dignitaries, +these entries of the sale of duchesses and baronesses at thirty sous apiece, +had caused Monsieur Manoury much alarm. Gavard was still laughing over it. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, never mind!” said he, patting Clemence’s arm; +“you are every inch a man, you are!” +</p> + +<p> +Clemence had discovered a new method of mixing her grog. She began by filling +her glass with hot water; and after adding some sugar she poured the rum drop +by drop upon the slice of lemon floating on the surface, in such wise that it +did not mix with the water. Then she lighted it and with a grave expression +watched it blaze, slowly smoking her cigarette while the flame of the alcohol +cast a greenish tinge over her face. “Grog,” however, was an +expensive luxury in which she could not afford to indulge after she had lost +her place. Charvet told her, with a strained laugh, that she was no longer a +millionaire. She supported herself by giving French lessons, at a very early +hour in the morning, to a young lady residing in the Rue de Miromesnil, who was +perfecting her education in secrecy, unknown even to her maid. And so now +Clemence merely ordered a glass of beer in the evenings, but this she drank, it +must be admitted, with the most philosophical composure. +</p> + +<p> +The evenings in the little sanctum were now far less noisy than they had been. +Charvet would suddenly lapse into silence, pale with suppressed rage, when the +others deserted him to listen to his rival. The thought that he had been the +king of the place, had ruled the whole party with despotic power before +Florent’s appearance there, gnawed at his heart, and he felt all the +regretful pangs of a dethroned monarch. If he still came to the meetings, it +was only because he could not resist the attraction of the little room where he +had spent so many happy hours in tyrannising over Gavard and Robine. In those +days even Logre’s hump had been his property, as well as +Alexandre’s fleshy arms and Lacaille’s gloomy face. He had done +what he liked with them, stuffed his opinions down their throats, belaboured +their shoulders with his sceptre. But now he endured much bitterness of spirit; +and ended by quite ceasing to speak, simply shrugging his shoulders and +whistling disdainfully, without condescending to combat the absurdities vented +in his presence. What exasperated him more than anything else was the gradual +way in which he had been ousted from his position of predominance without being +conscious of it. He could not see that Florent was in any way his superior, and +after hearing the latter speak for hours, in his gentle and somewhat sad voice, +he often remarked: “Why, the fellow’s a parson! He only wants a +cassock!” +</p> + +<p> +The others, however, to all appearance eagerly absorbed whatever the inspector +said. When Charvet saw Florent’s clothes hanging from every peg, he +pretended not to know where he could put his hat so that it would not be +soiled. He swept away the papers that lay about the little room, declaring that +there was no longer any comfort for anyone in the place since that +“gentleman” had taken possession of it. He even complained to the +landlord, and asked if the room belonged to a single customer or to the whole +company. This invasion of his realm was indeed the last straw. Men were brutes, +and he conceived an unspeakable scorn for humanity when he saw Logre and +Monsieur Lebigre fixing their eyes on Florent with rapt attention. Gavard with +his revolver irritated him, and Robine, who sat silent behind his glass of +beer, seemed to him to be the only sensible person in the company, and one who +doubtless judged people by their real value, and was not led away by mere +words. As for Alexandre and Lacaille, they confirmed him in his belief that +“the people” were mere fools, and would require at least ten years +of revolutionary dictatorship to learn how to conduct themselves. +</p> + +<p> +Logre, however, declared that the sections would soon be completely organised; +and Florent began to assign the different parts that each would have to play. +One evening, after a final discussion in which he again got worsted, Charvet +rose up, took his hat, and exclaimed: “Well, I’ll wish you all good +night. You can get your skulls cracked if it amuses you; but I would have you +understand that I won’t take any part in the business. I have never +abetted anybody’s ambition.” +</p> + +<p> +Clemence, who had also risen and was putting on her shawl, coldly added: +“The plan’s absurd.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, as Robine sat watching their departure with a gentle glance, Charvet +asked him if he were not coming with them; but Robine, having still some beer +left in his glass, contented himself with shaking hands. Charvet and Clemence +never returned again; and Lacaille one day informed the company that they now +frequented a beer-house in the Rue Serpente. He had seen them through the +window, gesticulating with great energy, in the midst of an attentive group of +very young men. +</p> + +<p> +Florent was never able to enlist Claude amongst his supporters. He had once +entertained the idea of gaining him over to his own political views, of making +a disciple of him, an assistant in his revolutionary task; and in order to +initiate him he had taken him one evening to Monsieur Lebigre’s. Claude, +however, spent the whole time in making a sketch of Robine, in his hat and +chestnut cloak, and with his beard resting on the knob of his walking-stick. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, you know,” he said to Florent, as they came away, +“all that you have been saying inside there doesn’t interest me in +the least. It may be very clever, but, for my own part, I see nothing in it. +Still, you’ve got a splendid fellow there, that blessed Robine. +He’s as deep as a well. I’ll come with you again some other time, +but it won’t be for politics. I shall make sketches of Logre and Gavard, +so as to put them with Robine in a picture which I was thinking about while you +were discussing the question of—what do you call it? eh? Oh, the question +of the two Chambers. Just fancy, now, a picture of Gavard and Logre and Robine +talking politics, entrenched behind their glasses of beer! It would be the +success of the Salon, my dear fellow, an overwhelming success, a genuine modern +picture!” +</p> + +<p> +Florent was grieved by the artist’s political scepticism; so he took him +up to his bedroom, and kept him on the narrow balcony in front of the bluish +mass of the markets, till two o’clock in the morning, lecturing him, and +telling him that he was no man to show himself so indifferent to the happiness +of his country. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you’re perhaps right,” replied Claude, shaking his +head; “I’m an egotist. I can’t even say that I paint for the +good of my country; for, in the first place, my sketches frighten everybody, +and then, when I’m busy painting, I think about nothing but the pleasure +I take in it. When I’m painting, it is as though I were tickling myself; +it makes me laugh all over my body. Well, I can’t help it, you know; +it’s my nature to be like that; and you can’t expect me to go and +drown myself in consequence. Besides, France can get on very well without me, +as my aunt Lisa says. And—may I be quite frank with you?—if I like +you it’s because you seem to me to follow politics just as I follow +painting. You titillate yourself, my good friend.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, as Florent protested, he continued: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes; you are an artist in your own way; you dream of politics, and +I’ll wager you spend hours here at night gazing at the stars and +imagining they are the voting-papers of infinity. And then you titillate +yourself with your ideas of truth and justice; and this is so evidently the +case that those ideas of yours cause just as much alarm to commonplace +middle-class folks as my sketches do. Between ourselves, now, do you imagine +that if you were Robine I should take any pleasure in your friendship? Ah, no, +my friend, you are a great poet!” +</p> + +<p> +Then he began to joke on the subject, saying that politics caused him no +trouble, and that he had got accustomed to hear people discussing them in beer +shops and studios. This led him to speak of a café in the Rue Vauvilliers; the +café on the ground-floor of the house where La Sarriette lodged. This smoky +place, with its torn, velvet-cushioned seats, and marble table-tops discoloured +by the drippings from coffee-cups, was the chief resort of the young people of +the markets. Monsieur Jules reigned there over a company of porters, +apprentices, and gentlemen in white blouses and velvet caps. Two curling +“Newgate knockers” were glued against his temples; and to keep his +neck white he had it scraped with a razor every Saturday at a +hair-dresser’s in the Rue des Deux Ecus. At the café he gave the tone to +his associates, especially when he played billiards with studied airs and +graces, showing off his figure to the best advantage. After the game the +company would begin to chat. They were a very reactionary set, taking a delight +in the doings of “society.” For his part, Monsieur Jules read the +lighter boulevardian newspapers, and knew the performers at the smaller +theatres, talked familiarly of the celebrities of the day, and could always +tell whether the piece first performed the previous evening had been a success +or a failure. He had a weakness, however, for politics. His ideal man was +Morny, as he curtly called him. He read the reports of the discussions of the +Corps Législatif, and laughed with glee over the slightest words that fell from +Morny’s lips. Ah, Morny was the man to sit upon your rascally +republicans! And he would assert that only the scum detested the Emperor, for +his Majesty desired that all respectable people should have a good time of it. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been to the café occasionally,” Claude said to Florent. +“The young men there are vastly amusing, with their clay pipes and their +talk about the Court balls! To hear them chatter you might almost fancy they +were invited to the Tuileries. La Sarriette’s young man was making great +fun of Gavard the other evening. He called him uncle. When La Sarriette came +downstairs to look for him she was obliged to pay his bill. It cost her six +francs, for he had lost at billiards, and the drinks they had played for were +owing. And now, good night, my friend, and pleasant dreams. If ever you become +a Minister, I’ll give you some hints on the beautifying of Paris.” +</p> + +<p> +Florent was obliged to relinquish the hope of making a docile disciple of +Claude. This was a source of grief to him, for, blinded though he was by his +fanatical ardour, he at last grew conscious of the ever-increasing hostility +which surrounded him. Even at the Mehudins’ he now met with a colder +reception: the old woman would laugh slyly; Muche no longer obeyed him, and the +beautiful Norman cast glances of hasty impatience at him, unable as she was to +overcome his coldness. At the Quenus’, too, he had lost Auguste’s +friendship. The assistant no longer came to see him in his room on the way to +bed, being greatly alarmed by the reports which he heard concerning this man +with whom he had previously shut himself up till midnight. Augustine had made +her lover swear that he would never again be guilty of such imprudence; +however, it was Lisa who turned the young man into Florent’s determined +enemy by begging him and Augustine to defer their marriage till her cousin +should vacate the little bedroom at the top of the house, as she did not want +to give that poky dressing-room on the first floor to the new shop girl whom +she would have to engage. From that time forward Auguste was anxious that the +“convict” should be arrested. He had found such a pork shop as he +had long dreamed of, not at Plaisance certainly, but at Montrouge, a little +farther away. And now trade had much improved, and Augustine, with her silly, +overgrown girl’s laugh, said that she was quite ready. So every night, +whenever some slight noise awoke him, August was thrilled with delight as he +imagined that the police were at last arresting Florent. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing was said at the Quenu-Gradelles’ about all the rumours which +circulated. There was a tacit understanding amongst the staff of the pork shop +to keep silent respecting them in the presence of Quenu. The latter, somewhat +saddened by the falling-out between his brother and his wife, sought +consolation in stringing his sausages and salting his pork. Sometimes he would +come and stand on his door-step, with his red face glowing brightly above his +white apron, which his increasing corpulence stretched quite taut, and never +did he suspect all the gossip which his appearance set on foot in the markets. +Some of the women pitied him, and thought that he was losing flesh, though he +was, indeed, stouter than ever; while others, on the contrary, reproached him +for not having grown thin with shame at having such a brother as Florent. He, +however, like one of those betrayed husbands who are always the last to know +what has befallen them, continued in happy ignorance, displaying a +light-heartedness which was quite affecting. He would stop some +neighbour’s wife on the footway to ask her if she found his brawn or +truffled boar’s head to her liking, and she would at once assume a +sympathetic expression, and speak in a condoling way, as though all the pork on +his premises had got jaundice. +</p> + +<p> +“What do they all mean by looking at me with such a funereal air?” +he asked Lisa one day. “Do you think I’m looking ill?” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa, well aware that he was terribly afraid of illness, and groaned and made a +dreadful disturbance if he suffered the slightest ailment, reassured him on +this point, telling him that he was as blooming as a rose. The fine pork shop, +however, was becoming gloomy; the mirrors seemed to pale, the marbles grew +frigidly white, and the cooked meats on the counter stagnated in yellow fat or +lakes of cloudy jelly. One day, even, Claude came into the shop to tell his +aunt that the display in the window looked quite “in the dumps.” +This was really the truth. The Strasburg tongues on their beds of blue +paper-shavings had a melancholy whiteness of hue, like the tongues of invalids; +and the whilom chubby hams seemed to be wasting away beneath their mournful +green top-knots. Inside the shop, too, when customers asked for a black-pudding +or ten sous’ worth of bacon, or half a pound of lard, they spoke in +subdued, sorrowful voices, as though they were in the bed-chamber of a dying +man. There were always two or three lachrymose women in front of the chilled +heating-pan. Beautiful Lisa meantime discharged the duties of chief mourner +with silent dignity. Her white apron fell more primly than ever over her black +dress. Her hands, scrupulously clean and closely girded at the wrists by long +white sleevelets, her face with its becoming air of sadness, plainly told all +the neighbourhood, all the inquisitive gossips who streamed into the shop from +morning to night, that they, the Quenu-Gradelles, were suffering from unmerited +misfortune, but that she knew the cause of it, and would triumph over it at +last. And sometimes she stooped to look at the two gold-fish, who also seemed +ill at ease as they swam languidly around the aquarium in the window, and her +glance seemed to promise them better days in the future. +</p> + +<p> +Beautiful Lisa now only allowed herself one indulgence. She fearlessly patted +Marjolin’s satiny chin. The young man had just come out of the hospital. +His skull had healed, and he looked as fat and merry as ever; but even the +little intelligence he had possessed had left him, he was now quite an idiot. +The gash in his skull must have reached his brain, for he had become a mere +animal. The mind of a child of five dwelt in his sturdy frame. He laughed and +stammered, he could no longer pronounce his words properly, and he was as +submissively obedient as a sheep. Cadine took entire possession of him again; +surprised, at first, at the alteration in him, and then quite delighted at +having this big fellow to do exactly as she liked with. He was her doll, her +toy, her slave in all respects but one: she could not prevent him from going +off to Madame Quenu’s every now and then. She thumped him, but he did not +seem to feel her blows; as soon as she had slung her basket round her neck, and +set off to sell her violets in the Rue du Pont Neuf and the Rue de Turbigo, he +went to prowl about in front of the pork shop. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in!” Lisa cried to him. +</p> + +<p> +She generally gave him some gherkins, of which he was extremely fond; and he +ate them, laughing in a childish way, whilst he stood in front of the counter. +The sight of the handsome mistress of the shop filled him with rapture; he +often clapped his hands with joy and began to jump about and vent little cries +of pleasure, like a child delighted at something shown to it. On the first few +occasions when he came to see her after leaving the hospital Lisa had feared +that he might remember what had happened. +</p> + +<p> +“Does your head still hurt you?” she asked him. +</p> + +<p> +But he swayed about and burst into a merry laugh as he answered no; and then +Lisa gently inquired: “You had a fall, hadn’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, a fall, fall, fall,” he sang, in a happy voice, tapping his +skull the while. +</p> + +<p> +Then, as though he were in a sort of ecstasy, he continued in lingering notes, +as he gazed at Lisa, “Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful!” This quite +touched Madame Quenu. She had prevailed upon Gavard to keep him in his service. +It was on the occasions when he so humbly vented his admiration that she +caressed his chin, and told him that he was a good lad. He smiled with childish +satisfaction, at times closing his eyes like some domestic pet fondled by its +mistress; and Lisa thought to herself that she was making him some compensation +for the blow with which she had felled him in the cellar of the poultry market. +</p> + +<p> +However, the Quenus’ establishment still remained under a cloud. Florent +sometimes ventured to show himself, and shook hands with his brother, while +Lisa observed a frigid silence. He even dined with them sometimes on Sundays, +at long intervals, and Quenu then made great efforts at gaiety, but could not +succeed in imparting any cheerfulness to the meal. He ate badly, and ended by +feeling altogether put out. One evening, after one of these icy family +gatherings, he said to his wife with tears in his eyes: +</p> + +<p> +“What can be the matter with me? Is it true that I’m not ill? +Don’t you really see anything wrong in my appearance? I feel just as +though I’d got a heavy weight somewhere inside me. And I’m so sad +and depressed, too, without in the least knowing why. What can it be, do you +think?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, a little attack of indigestion, I dare say,” replied Lisa. +</p> + +<p> +“No, no; it’s been going on too long for that; I feel quite crushed +down. Yet the business is going on all right; I’ve no great worries, and +I am leading just the same steady life as ever. But you, too, my dear, +don’t look well; you seem melancholy. If there isn’t a change for +the better soon, I shall send for the doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa looked at him with a grave expression. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no need of a doctor,” she said, “things will +soon be all right again. There’s something unhealthy in the atmosphere +just now. All the neighbourhood is unwell.” Then, as if yielding to an +impulse of anxious affection, she added: “Don’t worry yourself, my +dear. I can’t have you falling ill; that would be the crowning +blow.” +</p> + +<p> +As a rule she sent him back to the kitchen, knowing that the noise of the +choppers, the tuneful simmering of the fat, and the bubbling of the pans had a +cheering effect upon him. In this way, too, she kept him at a distance from the +indiscreet chatter of Mademoiselle Saget, who now spent whole mornings in the +shop. The old maid seemed bent on arousing Lisa’s alarm, and thus driving +her to some extreme step. She began by trying to obtain her confidence. +</p> + +<p> +“What a lot of mischievous folks there are about!” she exclaimed; +“folks who would be much better employed in minding their own business. +If you only knew, my dear Madame Quenu—but no, really, I should never +dare to repeat such things to you.” +</p> + +<p> +And, as Madame Quenu replied that she was quite indifferent to gossip, and that +it had no effect upon her, the old maid whispered into her ear across the +counter: “Well, people say, you know, that Monsieur Florent isn’t +your cousin at all.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she gradually allowed Lisa to see that she knew the whole story; by way of +proving that she had her quite at her mercy. When Lisa confessed the truth, +equally as a matter of diplomacy, in order that she might have the assistance +of some one who would keep her well posted in all the gossip of the +neighbourhood, the old maid swore that for her own part she would be as mute as +a fish, and deny the truth of the reports about Florent, even if she were to be +led to the stake for it. And afterwards this drama brought her intense +enjoyment; every morning she came to the shop with some fresh piece of +disturbing news. +</p> + +<p> +“You must be careful,” she whispered one day; “I have just +heard two women in the tripe market talking about you know what. I can’t +interrupt people and tell them they are lying, you know. It would look so +strange. But the story’s got about, and it’s spreading farther +every day. It can’t be stopped now, I fear; the truth will have to come +out.” +</p> + +<p> +A few days later she returned to the assault in all earnest. She made her +appearance looking quite scared, and waited impatiently till there was no one +in the shop, when she burst out in her sibilant voice: +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know what people are saying now? Well, they say that all those +men who meet at Monsieur Lebigre’s have got guns, and are going to break +out again as they did in ‘48. It’s quite distressing to see such a +worthy man as Monsieur Gavard—rich, too, and so +respectable—leaguing himself with such scoundrels! I was very anxious to +let you know, on account of your brother-in-law.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s mere nonsense, I’m sure; it can’t be +serious,” rejoined Lisa, just to incite the old maid to tell her more. +</p> + +<p> +“Not serious, indeed! Why, when one passes along the Rue Pirouette in the +evening one can hear them screaming out in the most dreadful way. Oh! they make +no mystery of it all. You know yourself how they tried to corrupt your husband. +And the cartridges which I have seen them making from my own window, are they +mere nonsense? Well, well, I’m only telling you this for your own +good.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! I’m sure of that, and I’m very much obliged to +you,” replied Lisa; “but people do invent such stories, you +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, but this is no invention, unfortunately. The whole neighbourhood is +talking of it. It is said, too, that if the police discover the matter there +will be a great many people compromised—Monsieur Gavard, for +instance.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Quenu shrugged her shoulders as though to say that Monsieur Gavard was +an old fool, and that it would do him good to be locked up. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I merely mention Monsieur Gavard as I might mention any of the +others, your brother-in-law, for instance,” resumed the old maid with a +wily glance. “Your brother-in-law is the leader, it seems. That’s +very annoying for you, and I’m very sorry indeed; for if the police were +to make a descent here they might march Monsieur Quenu off as well. Two +brothers, you know, they’re like two fingers of the same hand.” +</p> + +<p> +Beautiful Lisa protested against this, but she turned very pale, for +Mademoiselle Saget’s last thrust had touched a vulnerable point. From +that day forward the old maid was ever bringing her stories of innocent people +who had been thrown into prison for extending hospitality to criminal +scoundrels. In the evening, when La Saget went to get her black-currant syrup +at the wine dealer’s, she prepared her budget for the next morning. Rose +was but little given to gossiping, and the old main reckoned chiefly on her own +eyes and ears. She had been struck by Monsieur Lebigre’s extremely kind +and obliging manner towards Florent, his eagerness to keep him at his +establishment, all the polite civilities, for which the little money which the +other spent in the house could never recoup him. And this conduct of Monsieur +Lebigre’s surprised her the more as she was aware of the position in +which the two men stood in respect to the beautiful Norman. +</p> + +<p> +“It looks as though Lebigre were fattening him up for sale,” she +reflected. “Whom can he want to sell him to, I wonder?” +</p> + +<p> +One evening when she was in the bar she saw Logre fling himself on the bench in +the sanctum, and heard him speak of his perambulations through the faubourgs, +with the remark that he was dead beat. She cast a hasty glance at his feet, and +saw that there was not a speck of dust on his boots. Then she smiled quietly, +and went off with her black-currant syrup, her lips closely compressed. +</p> + +<p> +She used to complete her budget of information on getting back to her window. +It was very high up, commanding a view of all the neighbouring houses, and +proved a source of endless enjoyment to her. She was constantly installed at +it, as though it were an observatory from which she kept watch upon everything +that went on in the neighbourhood. She was quite familiar with all the rooms +opposite her, both on the right and the left, even to the smallest details of +their furniture. She could have described, without the least omission, the +habits of their tenants, have related if the latter’s homes were happy or +the contrary, have told when and how they washed themselves, what they had for +dinner, and who it was that came to see them. Then she obtained a side view of +the markets, and not a woman could walk along the Rue Rambuteau without being +seen by her; and she could have correctly stated whence the woman had come and +whither she was going, what she had got in her basket, and, in short, every +detail about her, her husband, her clothes, her children, and her means. +“That’s Madame Loret, over there; she’s giving her son a fine +education; that’s Madame Hutin, a poor little woman who’s +dreadfully neglected by her husband; that’s Mademoiselle Cecile, the +butcher’s daughter, a girl that no one will marry because she’s +scrofulous.” In this way she could have continued jerking out +biographical scraps for days together, deriving extraordinary amusement from +the most trivial, uninteresting incidents. However, as soon as eight +o’clock struck, she only had eyes for the frosted “cabinet” +window on which appeared the black shadows of the coterie of politicians. She +discovered the secession of Charvet and Clemence by missing their bony +silhouettes from the milky transparency. Not an incident occurred in that room +but she sooner or later learnt it by some sudden motion of those silent arms +and heads. She acquired great skill in interpretation, and could divine the +meaning of protruding noses, spreading fingers, gaping mouths, and shrugging +shoulders; and in this way she followed the progress of the conspiracy step by +step, in such wise that she could have told day by day how matters stood. One +evening the terrible outcome of it all was revealed to her. She saw the shadow +of Gavard’s revolver, a huge silhouette with pointed muzzle showing very +blackly against the glimmering window. It kept appearing and disappearing so +rapidly that it seemed as though the room was full of revolvers. Those were the +firearms of which Mademoiselle Saget had spoken to Madame Quenu. On another +evening she was much puzzled by the sight of endless lengths of some material +or other, and came to the conclusion that the men must be manufacturing +cartridges. The next morning, however, she made her appearance in the wine shop +by eleven o’clock, on the pretext of asking Rose if she could let her +have a candle, and, glancing furtively into the little sanctum, she espied a +heap of red material lying on the table. This greatly alarmed her, and her next +budget of news was one of decisive gravity. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to alarm you, Madame Quenu,” she said, +“but matters are really looking very serious. Upon my word, I’m +quite alarmed. You must on no account repeat what I am going to confide to you. +They would murder me if they knew I had told you.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, when Lisa had sworn to say nothing that might compromise her, she told +her about the red material. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t think what it can be. There was a great heap of it. It +looked just like rags soaked in blood. Logre, the hunchback, you know, put one +of the pieces over his shoulder. He looked like a headsman. You may be sure +this is some fresh trickery or other.” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa made no reply, but seemed deep in thought whilst with lowered eyes, she +handled a fork and mechanically arranged some piece of salt pork on a dish. +</p> + +<p> +“If I were you,” resumed Mademoiselle Saget softly, “I +shouldn’t be easy in mind; I should want to know the meaning of it all. +Why shouldn’t you go upstairs and examine your brother-in-law’s +bedroom?” +</p> + +<p> +At this Lisa gave a slight start, let the fork drop, and glanced uneasily at +the old maid, believing that she had discovered her intentions. But the other +continued: “You would certainly be justified in doing so. There’s +no knowing into what danger your brother-in-law may lead you, if you +don’t put a check on him. They were talking about you yesterday at Madame +Taboureau’s. Ah! you have a most devoted friend in her. Madame Taboureau +said that you were much too easy-going, and that if she were you she would have +put an end to all this long ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame Taboureau said that?” murmured Lisa thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed she did; and Madame Taboureau is a woman whose advice is +worth listening to. Try to find out the meaning of all those red bands; and if +you do, you’ll tell me, won’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa, however, was no longer listening to her. She was gazing abstractedly at +the edible snails and Gervais cheeses between the festoons of sausages in the +window. She seemed absorbed in a mental conflict, which brought two little +furrows to her brow. The old maid, however, poked her nose over the dishes on +the counter. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, some slices of saveloy!” she muttered, as though she were +speaking to herself. “They’ll get very dry cut up like that. And +that black-pudding’s broken, I see—a fork’s been stuck into +it, I expect. It might be taken away—it’s soiling the dish.” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa, still absent-minded, gave her the black-pudding and slices of saveloy. +“You may take them,” she said, “if you would care for +them.” +</p> + +<p> +The black bag swallowed them up. Mademoiselle Saget was so accustomed to +receiving presents that she had actually ceased to return thanks for them. +Every morning she carried away all the scraps of the pork shop. And now she +went off with the intention of obtaining her dessert from La Sarriette and +Madame Lecœur, by gossiping to them about Gavard. +</p> + +<p> +When Lisa was alone again she installed herself on the bench, behind the +counter, as though she thought she would be able to come to a sounder decision +if she were comfortably seated. For the last week she had been very anxious. +Florent had asked Quenu for five hundred francs one evening, in the easy, +matter-of-course way of a man who had money lying to his credit at the pork +shop. Quenu referred him to his wife. This was distasteful to Florent, who felt +somewhat uneasy on applying to beautiful Lisa. But she immediately went up to +her bedroom, brought the money down and gave it to him, without saying a word, +or making the least inquiry as to what he intended to do with it. She merely +remarked that she had made a note of the payment on the paper containing the +particulars of Florent’s share of the inheritance. Three days later he +took a thousand francs. +</p> + +<p> +“It was scarcely worth while trying to make himself out so +disinterested,” Lisa said to Quenu that night, as they went to bed. +“I did quite right, you see, in keeping the account. By the way, I +haven’t noted down the thousand francs I gave him to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +She sat down at the secrétaire, and glanced over the page of figures. Then she +added: “I did well to leave a blank space. I’ll put down what I pay +him on the margin. You’ll see, now, he’ll fritter it all away by +degrees. That’s what I’ve been expecting for a long time +past.” +</p> + +<p> +Quenu said nothing, but went to bed feeling very much put out. Every time that +his wife opened the secrétaire the drawer gave out a mournful creak which +pierced his heart. He even thought of remonstrating with his brother, and +trying to prevent him from ruining himself with the Mehudins; but when the time +came, he did not dare to do it. Two days later Florent asked for another +fifteen hundred francs. Logre had said one evening that things would ripen much +faster if they could only get some money. The next day he was enchanted to find +these words of his, uttered quite at random, result in the receipt of a little +pile of gold, which he promptly pocketed, sniggering as he did so, and his +hunch fairly shaking with delight. From that time forward money was constantly +being needed: one section wished to hire a room where they could meet, while +another was compelled to provide for various needy patriots. Then there were +arms and ammunition to be purchased, men to be enlisted, and private police +expenses. Florent would have paid for anything. He had bethought himself of +Uncle Gradelle’s treasure, and recalled La Normande’s advice. So he +made repeated calls upon Lisa’s secrétaire, being merely kept in check by +the vague fear with which his sister-in-law’s grave face inspired him. +Never, thought he, could he have spent his money in a holier cause. Logre now +manifested the greatest enthusiasm, and wore the most wonderful rose-coloured +neckerchiefs and the shiniest of varnished boots, the sight of which made +Lacaille glower blackly. +</p> + +<p> +“That makes three thousand francs in seven days,” Lisa remarked to +Quenu. “What do you think of that? A pretty state of affairs, isn’t +it? If he goes on at this rate his fifty thousand francs will last him barely +four months. And yet it took old Gradelle forty years to put his fortune +together!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all your own fault!” cried Quenu. “There was no +occasion for you to say anything to him about the money.” +</p> + +<p> +Lisa gave her husband a severe glance. “It is his own,” she said; +“and he is entitled to take it all. It’s not the giving him the +money that vexes me, but the knowledge that he must make a bad use of it. I +tell you again, as I have been telling you for a long time past, all this must +come to an end.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do whatever you like; I won’t prevent you,” at last +exclaimed the pork butcher, who was tortured by his cupidity. +</p> + +<p> +He still loved his brother; but the thought of fifty thousand francs squandered +in four months was agony to him. As for his wife, after all Mademoiselle +Saget’s chattering she guessed what became of the money. The old maid +having ventured to refer to the inheritance, Lisa had taken advantage of the +opportunity to let the neighbourhood know that Florent was drawing his share, +and spending it after his own fashion. +</p> + +<p> +It was on the following day that the story of the strips of red material +impelled Lisa to take definite action. For a few moments she remained +struggling with herself whilst gazing at the depressed appearance of the shop. +The sides of pork hung all around in a sullen fashion, and Mouton, seated +beside a bowl of fat, displayed the ruffled coat and dim eyes of a cat who no +longer digests his meals in peace. Thereupon Lisa called to Augustine and told +her to attend to the counter, and she herself went up to Florent’s room. +</p> + +<p> +When she entered it, she received quite a shock. The bed, hitherto so spotless, +was quite ensanguined by a bundle of long red scarves dangling down to the +floor. On the mantelpiece, between the gilt cardboard boxes and the old +pomatum-pots, were several red armlets and clusters of red cockades, looking +like pools of blood. And hanging from every nail and peg against the faded grey +wallpaper were pieces of bunting, square flags—yellow, blue, green, and +black—in which Lisa recognised the distinguishing banners of the twenty +sections. The childish simplicity of the room seemed quite scared by all this +revolutionary decoration. The aspect of guileless stupidity which the shop girl +had left behind her, the white innocence of the curtains and furniture, now +glared as with the reflection of a fire; while the photograph of Auguste and +Augustine looked white with terror. Lisa walked round the room, examining the +flags, the armlets, and the scarves, without touching any of them, as though +she feared that the dreadful things might burn her. She was reflecting that she +had not been mistaken, that it was indeed on these and similar things that +Florent’s money had been spent. And to her this seemed an utter +abomination, an incredibility which set her whole being surging with +indignation. To think that her money, that money which had been so honestly +earned, was being squandered to organise and defray the expenses of an +insurrection! +</p> + +<p> +She stood there, gazing at the expanded blossoms of the pomegranate on the +balcony—blossoms which seemed to her like an additional supply of crimson +cockades—and listening to the sharp notes of the chaffinch, which +resembled the echo of a distant fusillade. And then it struck her that the +insurrection might break out the next day, or perhaps that very evening. She +fancied she could see the banners streaming in the air and the scarves +advancing in line, while a sudden roll of drums broke on her ear. Then she +hastily went downstairs again, without even glancing at the papers which were +lying on the table. She stopped on the first floor, went into her own room, and +dressed herself. +</p> + +<p> +In this critical emergency Lisa arranged her hair with scrupulous care and +perfect calmness. She was quite resolute; not a quiver of hesitation disturbed +her; but a sterner expression than usual had come into her eyes. As she +fastened her black silk dress, straining the waistband with all the strength of +her fingers, she recalled Abbé Roustan’s words; and she questioned +herself, and her conscience answered that she was going to fulfil a duty. By +the time she drew her broidered shawl round her broad shoulders, she felt that +she was about to perform a deed of high morality. She put on a pair of dark +mauve gloves, secured a thick veil to her bonnet; and before leaving the room +she double-locked the secrétaire, with a hopeful expression on her face which +seemed to say that that much worried piece of furniture would at last be able +to sleep in peace again. +</p> + +<p> +Quenu was exhibiting his white paunch at the shop door when his wife came down. +He was surprised to see her going out in full dress at ten o’clock in the +morning. “Hallo! Where are you off to?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +She pretended that she was going out with Madame Taboureau, and added that she +would call at the Gaité Theatre to buy some tickets. Quenu hurried after her to +tell her to secure some front seats, so that they might be able to see well. +Then, as he returned to the shop, Lisa made her way to the cab-stand opposite +St. Eustache, got into a cab, pulled down the blinds, and told the driver to go +to the Gaité Theatre. She felt afraid of being followed. When she had booked +two seats, however, she directed the cabman to drive her to the Palais de +Justice. There, in front of the gate, she discharged him, and then quietly made +her way through the halls and corridors to the Prefecture of Police. +</p> + +<p> +She soon lost herself in a noisy crowd of police officers and gentlemen in long +frock-coats, but at last gave a man half a franc to guide her to the +Prefect’s rooms. She found, however, that the Prefect only received such +persons as came with letters of audience; and she was shown into a small +apartment, furnished after the style of a boarding-house parlour. A fat, +bald-headed official, dressed in black from head to foot, received her there +with sullen coldness. What was her business? he inquired. Thereupon she raised +her veil, gave her name, and told her story, clearly and distinctly, without a +pause. The bald man listened with a weary air. +</p> + +<p> +“You are this man’s sister-in-law, are you not?” he inquired, +when she had finished. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” Lisa candidly replied. “We are honest, +straight-forward people, and I am anxious that my husband should not be +compromised.” +</p> + +<p> +The official shrugged his shoulders, as though to say that the whole affair was +a great nuisance. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know,” he said impatiently, “that I have been +pestered with this business for more than a year past? Denunciation after +denunciation has been sent to me, and I am being continually goaded and pressed +to take action. You will understand that if I haven’t done so as yet, it +is because I prefer to wait. We have good reasons for our conduct in the +matter. Stay, now, here are the papers relating to it. I’ll let you see +them.” +</p> + +<p> +He laid before her an immense collection of papers in a blue wrapper. Lisa +turned them over. They were like detached chapters of the story she had just +been relating. The commissaires of police at Havre, Rouen, and Vernon notified +Florent’s arrival within their respective jurisdictions. Then came a +report which announced that he had taken up his residence with the +Quenu-Gradelles. Next followed his appointment at the markets, an account of +his mode of life, the spending of his evenings at Monsieur Lebigre’s; not +a detail was deficient. Lisa, quite astounded as she was, noticed that the +reports were in duplicate, so that they must have emanated from two different +sources. And at last she came upon a pile of letters, anonymous letters of +every shape, and in every description of handwriting. They brought her +amazement to a climax. In one letter she recognised the villainous hand of +Mademoiselle Saget, denouncing the people who met in the little sanctum at +Lebigre’s. On a large piece of greasy paper she identified the heavy +pot-hooks of Madame Lecœur; and there was also a sheet of cream-laid +note-paper, ornamented with a yellow pansy, and covered with the scrawls of La +Sarriette and Monsieur Jules. These two letters warned the Government to beware +of Gavard. Farther on Lisa recognised the coarse style of old Madame Mehudin, +who in four pages of almost indecipherable scribble repeated all the wild +stories about Florent that circulated in the markets. However, what startled +her more than anything else was the discovery of a bill-head of her own +establishment, with the inscription <i>Quenu-Gradelle, Pork Butcher</i>, on its +face, whilst on the back of it Auguste had penned a denunciation of the man +whom he looked upon as an obstacle to his marriage. +</p> + +<p> +The official had acted upon a secret idea in placing these papers before her. +“You don’t recognise any of these handwritings, do you?” he +asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she stammered, rising from her seat, quite oppressed by what +she had just learned; and she hastily pulled down her veil again to conceal the +blush of confusion which was rising to her cheeks. Her silk dress rustled, and +her dark gloves disappeared beneath her heavy shawl. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, madame,” said the bald man with a faint smile, +“your information comes a little late. But I promise you that your visit +shall not be forgotten. And tell your husband not to stir. It is possible that +something may happen soon that——” +</p> + +<p> +He did not complete his sentence, but, half rising from his armchair, made a +slight bow to Lisa. It was a dismissal, and she took her leave. In the +ante-room she caught sight of Logre and Monsieur Lebigre, who hastily turned +their faces away; but she was more disturbed than they were. She went her way +through the halls and along the corridors, feeling as if she were in the +clutches of this system of police which, it now seemed to her, saw and knew +everything. At last she came out upon the Place Dauphine. When she reached the +Quai de l’Horloge she slackened her steps, and felt refreshed by the cool +breeze blowing from the Seine. +</p> + +<p> +She now had a keen perception of the utter uselessness of what she had done. +Her husband was in no danger whatever; and this thought, whilst relieving her, +left her a somewhat remorseful feeling. She was exasperated with Auguste and +the women who had put her in such a ridiculous position. She walked on yet more +slowly, watching the Seine as it flowed past. Barges, black with coal-dust, +were floating down the greenish water; and all along the bank anglers were +casting their lines. After all, it was not she who had betrayed Florent. This +reflection suddenly occurred to her and astonished her. Would she have been +guilty of a wicked action, then, if she had been his betrayer? She was quite +perplexed; surprised at the possibility of her conscience having deceived her. +Those anonymous letters seemed extremely base. She herself had gone openly to +the authorities, given her name, and saved innocent people from being +compromised. Then at the sudden thought of old Gradelle’s fortune she +again examined herself, and felt ready to throw the money into the river if +such a course should be necessary to remove the blight which had fallen on the +pork shop. No, she was not avaricious, she was sure she wasn’t; it was no +thought of money that had prompted her in what she had just done. As she +crossed the Pont au Change she grew quite calm again, recovering all her superb +equanimity. On the whole, it was much better, she felt, that others should have +anticipated her at the Prefecture. She would not have to deceive Quenu, and she +would sleep with an easier conscience. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you booked the seats?” Quenu asked her when she returned +home. +</p> + +<p> +He wanted to see the tickets, and made Lisa explain to him the exact position +the seats occupied in the dress-circle. Lisa had imagined that the police would +make a descent upon the house immediately after receiving her information, and +her proposal to go to the theatre had only been a wily scheme for getting Quenu +out of the way while the officers were arresting Florent. She had contemplated +taking him for an outing in the afternoon—one of those little jaunts +which they occasionally allowed themselves. They would then drive in an open +cab to the Bois de Boulogne, dine at a restaurant, and amuse themselves for an +hour or two at some café concern. But there was no need to go out now, she +thought; so she spent the rest of the day behind her counter, with a rosy glow +on her face, and seeming brighter and gayer, as though she were recovering from +some indisposition. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, I told you it was fresh air you wanted!” exclaimed Quenu. +“Your walk this morning has brightened you up wonderfully!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, indeed,” she said after a pause, again assuming her look of +severity; “the streets of Paris are not at all healthy places.” +</p> + +<p> +In the evening they went to the Gaité to see the performance of “La Grâce +de Dieu.” Quenu, in a frock-coat and drab gloves, with his hair carefully +pomatumed and combed, was occupied most of the time in hunting for the names of +the performers in the programme. Lisa looked superb in her low dress as she +rested her hands in their tight-fitting white gloves on the crimson velvet +balustrade. They were both of them deeply affected by the misfortunes of Marie. +The commander, they thought, was certainly a desperate villain; while Pierrot +made them laugh from the first moment of his appearance on the stage. But at +last Madame Quenu cried. The departure of the child, the prayer in the +maiden’s chamber, the return of the poor mad creature, moistened her eyes +with gentle tears, which she brushed away with her handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +However, the pleasure which the evening afforded her turned into a feeling of +triumph when she caught sight of La Normande and her mother sitting in the +upper gallery. She thereupon puffed herself out more than ever, sent Quenu off +to the refreshment bar for a box of caramels, and began to play with her fan, a +mother-of-pearl fan, elaborately gilt. The fish-girl was quite crushed; and +bent her head down to listen to her mother, who was whispering to her. When the +performance was over and beautiful Lisa and the beautiful Norman met in the +vestibule they exchanged a vague smile. +</p> + +<p> +Florent had dined early at Monsieur Lebigre’s that day. He was expecting +Logre, who had promised to introduce to him a retired sergeant, a capable man, +with whom they were to discuss the plan of attack upon the Palais Bourbon and +the Hôtel de Ville. The night closed in, and the fine rain, which had begun to +fall in the afternoon, shrouded the vast markets in a leaden gloom. They loomed +darkly against the copper-tinted sky, while wisps of murky cloud skimmed by +almost on a level with the roofs, looking as though they were caught and torn +by the points of the lightning-conductors. Florent felt depressed by the sight +of the muddy streets, and the streaming yellowish rain which seemed to sweep +the twilight away and extinguish it in the mire. He watched the crowds of +people who had taken refuge on the foot-pavements of the covered ways, the +umbrellas flitting past in the downpour, and the cabs that dashed with +increased clatter and speed along the wellnigh deserted roads. Presently there +was a rift in the clouds; and a red glow arose in the west. Then a whole army +of street-sweepers came into sight at the end of the Rue Montmartre, driving a +lake of liquid mud before them with their brooms. +</p> + +<p> +Logre did not turn up with the sergeant; Gavard had gone to dine with some +friends at Batignolles, and so Florent was reduced to spending the evening +alone with Robine. He had all the talking to himself, and ended by feeling very +low-spirited. His companion merely wagged his beard, and stretched out his hand +every quarter of an hour to raise his glass of beer to his lips. At last +Florent grew so bored that he went off to bed. Robine, however, though left to +himself, still lingered there, contemplating his glass with an expression of +deep thought. Rose and the waiter, who had hoped to shut up early, as the +coterie of politicians was absent, had to wait a long half hour before he at +last made up his mind to leave. +</p> + +<p> +When Florent got to his room, he felt afraid to go to bed. He was suffering +from one of those nervous attacks which sometimes plunged him into horrible +nightmares until dawn. On the previous day he had been to Clamart to attend the +funeral of Monsieur Verlaque, who had died after terrible sufferings; and he +still felt sad at the recollection of the narrow coffin which he had seen +lowered into the earth. Nor could he banish from his mind the image of Madame +Verlaque, who, with a tearful voice, though there was not a tear in her eyes, +kept following him and speaking to him about the coffin, which was not paid +for, and of the cost of the funeral, which she was quite at a loss about, as +she had not a copper in the place, for the druggist, on hearing of her +husband’s death on the previous day, had insisted upon his bill being +paid. So Florent had been obliged to advance the money for the coffin and other +funeral expenses, and had even given the gratuities to the mutes. Just as he +was going away, Madame Verlaque looked at him with such a heartbroken +expression that he left her twenty francs. +</p> + +<p> +And now Monsieur Verlaque’s death worried him very much. It affected his +situation in the markets. He might lose his berth, or perhaps be formally +appointed inspector. In either case he foresaw vexatious complications which +might arouse the suspicions of the police. He would have been delighted if the +insurrection could have broken out the very next day, so that he might at once +have tossed the laced cap of his inspectorship into the streets. With his mind +full of harassing thoughts like these, he stepped out upon the balcony, as +though soliciting of the warm night some whiff of air to cool his fevered brow. +The rain had laid the wind, and a stormy heat still reigned beneath the deep +blue, cloudless heavens. The markets, washed by the downpour, spread out below +him, similar in hue to the sky, and, like the sky, studded with the yellow +stars of their gas lamps. +</p> + +<p> +Leaning on the iron balustrade, Florent recollected that sooner or later he +would certainly be punished for having accepted the inspectorship. It seemed to +lie like a stain on his life. He had become an official of the Prefecture, +forswearing himself, serving the Empire in spite of all the oaths he had taken +in his exile. His anxiety to please Lisa, the charitable purpose to which he +had devoted the salary he received, the just and scrupulous manner in which he +had always struggled to carry out his duties, no longer seemed to him valid +excuses for his base abandonment of principle. If he had suffered in the midst +of all that sleek fatness, he had deserved to suffer. And before him arose a +vision of the evil year which he had just spent, his persecution by the +fish-wives, the sickening sensations he had felt on close, damp days, the +continuous indigestion which had afflicted his delicate stomach, and the latent +hostility which was gathering strength against him. All these things he now +accepted as chastisement. That dull rumbling of hostility and spite, the cause +of which he could not divine, must forebode some coming catastrophe before +whose approach he already stooped, with the shame of one who knows there is a +transgression that he must expiate. Then he felt furious with himself as he +thought of the popular rising he was preparing; and reflected that he was no +longer unsullied enough to achieve success. +</p> + +<p> +In how many dreams he had indulged in that lofty little room, with his eyes +wandering over the spreading roofs of the market pavilions! They usually +appeared to him like grey seas that spoke to him of far-off countries. On +moonless nights they would darken and turn into stagnant lakes of black and +pestilential water. But on bright nights they became shimmering fountains of +light, the moonbeams streaming over both tiers like water, gliding along the +huge plates of zinc, and flowing over the edges of the vast superposed basins. +Then frosty weather seemed to turn these roofs into rigid ice, like the +Norwegian bays over which skaters skim; while the warm June nights lulled them +into deep sleep. One December night, on opening his window, he had seen them +white with snow, so lustrously white that they lighted up the coppery sky. +Unsullied by a single footstep, they then stretched out like the lonely plains +of the Far North, where never a sledge intrudes. Their silence was beautiful, +their soft peacefulness suggestive of innocence. +</p> + +<p> +And at each fresh aspect of the ever-changing panorama before him, Florent +yielded to dreams which were now sweet, now full of bitter pain. The snow +calmed him; the vast sheet of whiteness seemed to him like a veil of purity +thrown over the filth of the markets. The bright, clear nights, the shimmering +moonbeams, carried him away into the fairy-land of story-books. It was only the +dark, black nights, the burning nights of June, when he beheld, as it were, a +miasmatic marsh, the stagnant water of a dead and accursed sea, that filled him +with gloom and grief; and then ever the same dreadful visions haunted his +brain. +</p> + +<p> +The markets were always there. He could never open the window and rest his +elbows on the balustrade without having them before him, filling the horizon. +He left the pavilions in the evening only to behold their endless roofs as he +went to bed. They shut him off from the rest of Paris, ceaselessly intruded +their huge bulk upon him, entered into every hour of his life. That night again +horrible fancies came to him, fancies aggravated by the vague forebodings of +evil which distressed him. The rain of the afternoon had filled the markets +with malodorous dampness, and as they wallowed there in the centre of the city, +like some drunken man lying, after his last bottle, under the table, they cast +all their foul breath into his face. He seemed to see a thick vapour rising up +from each pavilion. In the distance the meat and tripe markets reeked with the +sickening steam of blood; nearer in, the vegetable and fruit pavilions diffused +the odour of pungent cabbages, rotten apples, and decaying leaves; the butter +and cheese exhaled a poisonous stench; from the fish market came a sharp, fresh +gust; while from the ventilator in the tower of the poultry pavilion just below +him, he could see a warm steam issuing, a fetid current rising in coils like +the sooty smoke from a factory chimney. And all these exhalations coalesced +above the roofs, drifted towards the neighbouring houses, and spread themselves +out in a heavy cloud which stretched over the whole of Paris. It was as though +the markets were bursting within their tight belt of iron, were beating the +slumber of the gorged city with the stertorous fumes of their midnight +indigestion. +</p> + +<p> +However, on the footway down below Florent presently heard a sound of voices, +the laughter of happy folks. Then the door of the passage was closed noisily. +It was Quenu and Lisa coming home from the theatre. Stupefied and intoxicated, +as it were, by the atmosphere he was breathing, Florent thereupon left the +balcony, his nerves still painfully excited by the thought of the tempest which +he could feel gathering round his head. The source of his misery was yonder, in +those markets, heated by the day’s excesses. He closed the window with +violence, and left them wallowing in the darkness, naked and perspiring beneath +the stars. +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div class="chapter"> + +<h2><a name="chap06"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p> +A week later, Florent thought that he would at last be able to proceed to +action. A sufficiently serious outburst of public dissatisfaction furnished an +opportunity for launching his insurrectionary forces upon Paris. The Corps +Législatif, whose members had lately shown great variance of opinion respecting +certain grants to the Imperial family, was now discussing a bill for the +imposition of a very unpopular tax, at which the lower orders had already begun +to growl. The Ministry, fearing a defeat, was straining every nerve. It was +probable, thought Florent, that no better pretext for a rising would for a long +time present itself. +</p> + +<p> +One morning, at daybreak, he went to reconnoitre the neighbourhood of the +Palais Bourbon. He forgot all about his duties as inspector, and lingered +there, studying the approaches of the palace, till eight o’clock, without +ever thinking that his absence would revolutionise the fish market. He +perambulated all the surrounding streets, the Rue de Lille, the Rue de +l’Université, the Rue de Bourgogne, the Rue Saint Dominique, and even +extended his examination to the Esplanade des Invalides, stopping at certain +crossways, and measuring distances as he walked along. Then, on coming back to +the Quai d’Orsay, he sat down on the parapet, and determined that the +attack should be made simultaneously from all sides. The contingents from the +Gros-Caillou district should arrive by way of the Champ de Mars; the sections +from the north of Paris should come down by the Madeleine; while those from the +west and the south would follow the quays, or make their way in small +detachments through the then narrow streets of the Faubourg Saint Germain. +However, the other side of the river, the Champs Elysees, with their open +avenues, caused him some uneasiness; for he foresaw that cannon would be +stationed there to sweep the quays. He thereupon modified several details of +his plan, and marked down in a memorandum-book the different positions which +the several sections should occupy during the combat. The chief attack, he +concluded, must certainly be made from the Rue de Bourgogne and the Rue de +l’Université, while a diversion might be effected on the side of the +river. +</p> + +<p> +Whilst he thus pondered over his plans the eight o’clock sun, warming the +nape of his neck, shone gaily on the broad footways, and gilded the columns of +the great structure in front of him. In imagination he already saw the +contemplated battle; clusters of men clinging round those columns, the gates +burst open, the peristyle invaded; and then scraggy arms suddenly appearing +high aloft and planting a banner there. +</p> + +<p> +At last he slowly went his way homewards again with his gaze fixed upon the +ground. But all at once a cooing sound made him look up, and he saw that he was +passing through the garden of the Tuileries. A number of wood-pigeons, bridling +their necks, were strutting over a lawn near by. Florent leant for a moment +against the tub of an orange-tree, and looked at the grass and the pigeons +steeped in sunshine. Right ahead under the chestnut-trees all was black. The +garden was wrapped in a warm silence, broken only by the distant rumbling which +came from behind the railings of the Rue de Rivoli. The scent of all the +greenery affected Florent, reminding him of Madame Francois. However, a little +girl ran past, trundling a hoop, and alarmed the pigeons. They flew off, and +settled in a row on the arm of a marble statue of an antique wrestler standing +in the middle of the lawn, and once more, but with less vivacity, they began to +coo and bridle their necks. +</p> + +<p> +As Florent was returning to the markets by way of the Rue Vauvilliers, he heard +Claude Lantier calling to him. The artist was going down into the basement of +the poultry pavilion. “Come with me!” he cried. “I’m +looking for that brute Marjolin.” +</p> + +<p> +Florent followed, glad to forget his thoughts and to defer his return to the +fish market for a little longer. Claude told him that his friend Marjolin now +had nothing further to wish for: he had become an utter animal. Claude +entertained an idea of making him pose on all-fours in future. Whenever he lost +his temper over some disappointing sketch he came to spend whole hours in the +idiot’s company, never speaking, but striving to catch his expression +when he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll be feeding his pigeons, I dare say,” he said; +“but unfortunately I don’t know whereabouts Monsieur Gavard’s +storeroom is.” +</p> + +<p> +They groped about the cellar. In the middle of it some water was trickling from +a couple of taps in the dim gloom. The storerooms here are reserved for pigeons +exclusively, and all along the trellising they heard faint cooings, like the +hushed notes of birds nestling under the leaves when daylight is departing. +Claude began to laugh as he heard it. +</p> + +<p> +“It sounds as though all the lovers in Paris were embracing each other +inside here, doesn’t it?” he exclaimed to his companion. +</p> + +<p> +However, they could not find a single storeroom open, and were beginning to +think that Marjolin could not be in the cellar, when a sound of loud, smacking +kisses made them suddenly halt before a door which stood slightly ajar. Claude +pulled it open and beheld Marjolin, whom Cadine was kissing, whilst he, a mere +dummy, offered his face without feeling the slightest thrill at the touch of +her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, so this is your little game, is it?” said Claude with a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh,” replied Cadine, quite unabashed, “he likes being +kissed, because he feels afraid now in the dim light. You do feel frightened, +don’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +Like the idiot he was, Marjolin stroked his face with his hands as though +trying to find the kisses which the girl had just printed there. And he was +beginning to stammer out that he was afraid, when Cadine continued: “And, +besides, I came to help him; I’ve been feeding the pigeons.” +</p> + +<p> +Florent looked at the poor creatures. All along the shelves were rows of +lidless boxes, in which pigeons, showing their motley plumage, crowded closely +on their stiffened legs. Every now and then a tremor ran along the moving mass; +and then the birds settled down again, and nothing was heard but their +confused, subdued notes. Cadine had a saucepan near her; she filled her mouth +with the water and tares which it contained, and then, taking up the pigeons +one by one, shot the food down their throats with amazing rapidity. The poor +creatures struggled and nearly choked, and finally fell down in the boxes with +swimming eyes, intoxicated, as it were, by all the food which they were thus +forced to swallow.[*] +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] This is the customary mode of fattening pigeons at the Paris markets. The +work is usually done by men who make a specialty of it, and are called +<i>gaveurs</i>.—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor creatures!” exclaimed Claude. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, so much the worse for them,” said Cadine, who had now +finished. “They are much nicer eating when they’ve been well fed. +In a couple of hours or so all those over yonder will be given a dose of salt +water. That makes their flesh white and tender. Then two hours afterwards +they’ll be killed. If you would like to see the killing, there are some +here which are quite ready. Marjolin will settle their account for them in a +jiffy.” +</p> + +<p> +Marjolin carried away a box containing some fifty pigeons, and Claude and +Florent followed him. Squatting upon the ground near one of the water-taps, he +placed the box by his side. Then he laid a framework of slender wooden bars on +the top of a kind of zinc trough, and forthwith began to kill the pigeons. His +knife flashed rapidly in his fingers, as he seized the birds by the wings, +stunned them by a blow on the head from the knife-handle, and then thrust the +point of the blade into their throats. They quivered for an instant, and +ruffled their feathers as Marjolin laid them in a row, with their heads between +the wooden bars above the zinc trough, into which their blood fell drop by +drop. He repeated each different movement with the regularity of clockwork, the +blows from the knife-handle falling with a monotonous tick-tack as he broke the +birds’ skulls, and his hand working backwards and forwards like a +pendulum as he took up the living pigeons on one side and laid them down dead +on the other. Soon, moreover, he worked with increasing rapidity, gloating over +the massacre with glistening eyes, squatting there like a huge delighted +bull-dog enjoying the sight of slaughtered vermin. “Tick-tack! +Tick-tack!” whilst his tongue clucked as an accompaniment to the +rhythmical movements of his knife. The pigeons hung down like wisps of silken +stuff. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you enjoy that, don’t you, you great stupid?” exclaimed +Cadine. “How comical those pigeons look when they bury their heads in +their shoulders to hide their necks! They’re horrid things, you know, and +would give one nasty bites if they got the chance.” Then she laughed more +loudly at Marjolin’s increasing, feverish haste; and added: +“I’ve killed them sometimes myself, but I can’t get on as +quickly as he does. One day he killed a hundred in ten minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +The wooden frame was nearly full; the blood could be heard falling into the +zinc trough; and as Claude happened to turn round he saw Florent looking so +pale that he hurriedly led him away. When they got above-ground again he made +him sit down on a step. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, what’s the matter with you?” he exclaimed, tapping him +on the shoulder. “You’re fainting away like a woman!” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the smell of the cellar,” murmured Florent, feeling a +little ashamed of himself. +</p> + +<p> +The truth was, however, that those pigeons, which were forced to swallow tares +and salt water, and then had their skulls broken and their throats slit, had +reminded him of the wood-pigeons of the Tuileries gardens, strutting over the +green turf, with their satiny plumage flashing iridescently in the sunlight. He +again heard them cooing on the arm of the marble wrestler amidst the hushed +silence of the garden, while children trundled their hoops in the deep gloom of +the chestnuts. And then, on seeing that big fair-haired animal massacring his +boxful of birds, stunning them with the handle of his knife and driving its +point into their throats, in the depths of that foul-smelling cellar, he had +felt sick and faint, his legs had almost given way beneath him, while his +eyelids quivered tremulously. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you’d never do for a soldier!” Claude said to him when +he recovered from his faintness. “Those who sent you to Cayenne must have +been very simple-minded folks to fear such a man as you! Why, my good fellow, +if ever you do put yourself at the head of a rising, you won’t dare to +fire a shot. You’ll be too much afraid of killing somebody.” +</p> + +<p> +Florent got up without making any reply. He had become very gloomy, his face +was furrowed by deep wrinkles; and he walked off, leaving Claude to go back to +the cellar alone. As he made his way towards the fish market his thoughts +returned to his plan of attack, to the levies of armed men who were to invade +the Palais Bourbon. Cannon would roar from the Champs Elysees; the gates would +be burst open; blood would stain the steps, and men’s brains would +bespatter the pillars. A vision of the fight passed rapidly before him; and he +beheld himself in the midst of it, deadly pale, and hiding his face in his +hands, not daring to look around him. +</p> + +<p> +As he was crossing the Rue du Pont Neuf he fancied he espied Auguste’s +pale face peering round the corner of the fruit pavilion. The assistant seemed +to be watching for someone, and his eyes were starting from his head with an +expression of intense excitement. Suddenly, however, he vanished and hastened +back to the pork shop. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the matter with him?” thought Florent. “Is he +frightened of me, I wonder?” +</p> + +<p> +Some very serious occurrences had taken place that morning at the +Quenu-Gradelles’. Soon after daybreak, Auguste, breathless with +excitement, had awakened his mistress to tell her that the police had come to +arrest Monsieur Florent. And he added, with stammering incoherence, that the +latter had gone out, and that he must have done so with the intention of +escaping. Lisa, careless of appearances, at once hurried up to her +brother-in-law’s room in her dressing-wrapper, and took possession of La +Normande’s photograph, after glancing round to see if there was anything +lying about that might compromise herself and Quenu. As she was making her way +downstairs again, she met the police agents on the first floor. The commissary +requested her to accompany them to Florent’s room, where, after speaking +to her for a moment in a low tone, he installed himself with his men, bidding +her open the shop as usual so as to avoid giving the alarm to anyone. The trap +was set. +</p> + +<p> +Lisa’s only worry in the matter was the terrible blow that the arrest +would prove to poor Quenu. She was much afraid that if he learned that the +police were in the house, he would spoil everything by his tears; so she made +Auguste swear to observe the most rigid silence on the subject. Then she went +back to her room, put on her stays, and concocted some story for the benefit of +Quenu, who was still drowsy. Half an hour later she was standing at the door of +the shop with all her usual neatness of appearance, her hair smooth and glossy, +and her face glowing rosily. Auguste was quietly setting out the window. Quenu +came for a moment on to the footway, yawning slightly, and ridding himself of +all sleepiness in the fresh morning air. There was nothing to indicate the +drama that was in preparation upstairs. +</p> + +<p> +The commissary himself, however, gave the alarm to the neighbourhood by paying +a domiciliary visit to the Mehudins’ abode in the Rue Pirouette. He was +in possession of the most precise information. In the anonymous letters which +had been sent to the Prefecture, all sorts of statements were made respecting +Florent’s alleged intrigue with the beautiful Norman. Perhaps, thought +the commissary, he had now taken refuge with her; and so, accompanied by two of +his men, he proceeded to knock at the door in the name of the law. The Mehudins +had only just got up. The old woman opened the door in a fury; but suddenly +calmed down and began to smile when she learned the business on hand. She +seated herself and fastened her clothes, while declaring to the officers: +“We are honest folks here, and have nothing to be afraid of. You can +search wherever you like.” +</p> + +<p> +However, as La Normande delayed to open the door of her room, the commissary +told his men to break it open. The young woman was scarcely clad when the +others entered, and this unceremonious invasion, which she could not +understand, fairly exasperated her. She flushed crimson from anger rather than +from shame, and seemed as though she were about to fly at the officers. The +commissary, at the sight, stepped forward to protect his men, repeating in his +cold voice: “In the name of the law! In the name of the law!” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon La Normande threw herself upon a chair, and burst into a wild fit of +hysterical sobbing at finding herself so powerless. She was quite at a loss to +understand what these men wanted with her. The commissary, however, had noticed +how scantily she was clad, and taking a shawl from a peg, he flung it over her. +Still she did not wrap it round her, but only sobbed the more bitterly as she +watched the men roughly searching the apartment. +</p> + +<p> +“But what have I done?” she at last stammered out. “What are +you looking for here?” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon the commissary pronounced the name of Florent; and La Normande, +catching sight of the old woman, who was standing at the door, cried out: +“Oh, the wretch! This is her doing!” and she rushed at her mother. +</p> + +<p> +She would have struck her if she had reached her; but the police agents held +her back, and forcibly wrapped her in the shawl. Meanwhile, she struggled +violently, and exclaimed in a choking voice: +</p> + +<p> +“What do you take me for? That Florent has never been in this room, I +tell you. There was nothing at all between us. People are always trying to +injure me in the neighbourhood; but just let anyone come here and say anything +before my face, and then you’ll see! You’ll lock me up afterwards, +I dare say, but I don’t mind that! Florent, indeed! What a lie! What +nonsense!” +</p> + +<p> +This flood of words seemed to calm her; and her anger now turned against +Florent, who was the cause of all the trouble. Addressing the commissary, she +sought to justify herself. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not know his real character, sir,” she said. “He had +such a mild manner that he deceived us all. I was unwilling to believe all I +heard, because I know people are so malicious. He only came here to give +lessons to my little boy, and went away directly they were over. I gave him a +meal here now and again, that’s true and sometimes made him a present of +a fine fish. That’s all. But this will be a warning to me, and you +won’t catch me showing the same kindness to anyone again.” +</p> + +<p> +“But hasn’t he given you any of his papers to take care of?” +asked the commissary. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, indeed! I swear it. I’d give them up to you at once if he +had. I’ve had quite enough of this, I can tell you! It’s no joke to +see you tossing all my things about and ferreting everywhere in this way. Oh! +you may look; there’s nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +The officers, who examined every article of furniture, now wished to enter the +little closet where Muche slept. The child had been awakened by the noise, and +for the last few moments he had been crying bitterly, as though he imagined +that he was going to be murdered. +</p> + +<p> +“This is my boy’s room,” said La Normande, opening the door. +</p> + +<p> +Muche, quite naked, ran up and threw his arms round his mother’s neck. +She pacified him, and laid him down in her own bed. The officers came out of +the little room again almost immediately, and the commissary had just made up +his mind to retire, when the child, still in tears, whispered in his +mother’s ear: “They’ll take my copy-books. Don’t let +them have my copy-books.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes; that’s true,” cried La Normande; “there are +some copy-books. Wait a moment, gentlemen, and I’ll give them to you. I +want you to see that I’m not hiding anything from you. Then, you’ll +find some of his writing inside these. You’re quite at liberty to hang +him as far as I’m concerned; you won’t find me trying to cut him +down.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon she handed Muche’s books and the copies set by Florent to the +commissary. But at this the boy sprang angrily out of bed, and began to scratch +and bite his mother, who put him back again with a box on the ears. Then he +began to bellow. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of the uproar, Mademoiselle Saget appeared on the threshold, +craning her neck forward. Finding all the doors open, she had come in to offer +her services to old Madame Mehudin. She spied about and listened, and expressed +extreme pity for these poor women, who had no one to defend them. The +commissary, however, had begun to read the copies with a grave air. The +frequent repetition of such words as “tyrannically,” +“liberticide,” “unconstitutional,” and +“revolutionary” made him frown; and on reading the sentence, +“When the hour strikes, the guilty shall fall,” he tapped his +fingers on the paper and said: “This is very serious, very serious +indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon he gave the books to one of his men, and went off. Claire, who had +hitherto not shown herself, now opened her door, and watched the police +officers go down the stairs. And afterwards she came into her sister’s +bedroom, which she had not entered for a year. Mademoiselle Saget appeared to +be on the best of terms with La Normande, and was hanging over her in a +caressing way, bringing the shawl forward to cover her the better, and +listening to her angry indignation with an expression of the deepest sympathy. +</p> + +<p> +“You wretched coward!” exclaimed Claire, planting herself in front +of her sister. +</p> + +<p> +La Normande sprang up, quivering with anger, and let the shawl fall to the +floor. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, you’ve been playing the spy, have you?” she screamed. +“Dare to repeat what you’ve just said!” +</p> + +<p> +“You wretched coward!” repeated Claire, in still more insulting +tones than before. +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon La Normande struck Claire with all her force; and in return Claire, +turning terribly pale, sprang upon her sister and dug her nails into her neck. +They struggled together for a moment or two, tearing at each other’s hair +and trying to choke one another. Claire, fragile though she was, pushed La +Normande backward with such tremendous violence that they both fell against the +wardrobe, smashing the mirror on its front. Muche was roaring, and old Madame +Mehudin called to Mademoiselle Saget to come and help her separate the sisters. +Claire, however, shook herself free. +</p> + +<p> +“Coward! Coward!” she cried; “I’ll go and tell the poor +fellow that it is you who have betrayed him.” +</p> + +<p> +Her mother, however, blocked the doorway, and would not let her pass, while La +Normande seized her from behind, and then, Mademoiselle Saget coming to the +assistance of the other two, the three of them dragged Claire into her bedroom +and locked the door upon her, in spite of all her frantic resistance. In her +rage she tried to kick the door down, and smashed everything in the room. Soon +afterwards, however, nothing could be heard except a furious scratching, the +sound of metal scarping at the plaster. The girl was trying to loosen the door +hinges with the points of her scissors. +</p> + +<p> +“She would have murdered me if she had had a knife,” said La +Normande, looking about for her clothes, in order to dress herself. +“She’ll be doing something dreadful, you’ll see, one of these +days, with that jealousy of hers! We mustn’t let her get out on any +account: she’d bring the whole neighbourhood down upon us!” +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget went off in all haste. She reached the corner of the Rue +Pirouette just as the commissary of police was re-entering the side passage of +the Quenu-Gradelles’ house. She grasped the situation at once, and +entered the shop with such glistening eyes that Lisa enjoined silence by a +gesture which called her attention to the presence of Quenu, who was hanging up +some pieces of salt pork. As soon as he had returned to the kitchen, the old +maid in a low voice described the scenes that had just taken place at the +Mehudins’. Lisa, as she bent over the counter, with her hand resting on a +dish of larded veal, listened to her with the happy face of one who triumphs. +Then, as a customer entered the shop, and asked for a couple of pig’s +trotters, Lisa wrapped them up, and handed them over with a thoughtful air. +</p> + +<p> +“For my own part, I bear La Normande no ill-will,” she said to +Mademoiselle Saget, when they were alone again. “I used to be very fond +of her, and have always been sorry that other people made mischief between us. +The proof that I’ve no animosity against her is here in this photograph, +which I saved from falling into the hands of the police, and which I’m +quite ready to give her back if she will come and ask me for it herself.” +</p> + +<p> +She took the photograph out of her pocket as she spoke. Mademoiselle Saget +scrutinised it and sniggered as she read the inscription, “Louise, to her +dear friend Florent.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not sure you’ll be acting wisely,” she said in her +cutting voice. “You’d do better to keep it.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” replied Lisa; “I’m anxious for all this silly +nonsense to come to an end. To-day is the day of reconciliation. We’ve +had enough unpleasantness, and the neighbourhood’s now going to be quiet +and peaceful again.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, well, shall I go and tell La Normande that you are expecting +her?” asked the old maid. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; I shall be very glad if you will.” +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget then made her way back to the Rue Pirouette, and greatly +frightened the fish-girl by telling her that she had just seen her photograph +in Lisa’s pocket. She could not, however, at once prevail upon her to +comply with her rival’s terms. La Normande propounded conditions of her +own. She would go, but Madame Quenu must come to the door of the shop to +receive her. Thus the old maid was obliged to make another couple of journeys +between the two rivals before their meeting could be satisfactorily arranged. +At last, however, to her great delight, she succeeded in negotiating the peace +which was destined to cause so much talk and excitement. As she passed +Claire’s door for the last time she still heard the sound of the scissors +scraping away at the plaster. +</p> + +<p> +When she had at last carried a definite reply to Madame Quenu, Mademoiselle +Saget hurried off to find Madame Lecœur and La Sarriette; and all three of +them took up their position on the footway at the corner of the fish market, +just in front of the pork shop. Here they would be certain to have a good view +of every detail of the meeting. They felt extremely impatient, and while +pretending to chat together kept an anxious look-out in the direction of the +Rue Pirouette, along which La Normande must come. The news of the +reconciliation was already travelling through the markets, and while some +saleswomen stood up behind their stalls trying to get a view of what was taking +place, others, still more inquisitive, actually left their places and took up a +position in the covered way. Every eye in the markets was directed upon the +pork shop; the whole neighbourhood was on the tip-toe of expectation. +</p> + +<p> +It was a very solemn affair. When La Normande at last turned the corner of the +Rue Pirouette the excitement was so great that the women held their breath. +</p> + +<p> +“She has got her diamonds on,” murmured La Sarriette. +</p> + +<p> +“Just look how she stalks along,” added Madame Lecœur; “the +stuck-up creature!” +</p> + +<p> +The beautiful Norman was, indeed, advancing with the mien of a queen who +condescends to make peace. She had made a most careful toilet, frizzing her +hair and turning up a corner of her apron to display her cashmere skirt. She +had even put on a new and rich lace bow. Conscious that the whole market was +staring at her, she assumed a still haughtier air as she approached the pork +shop. When she reached the door she stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“Now it’s beautiful Lisa’s turn,” remarked Mademoiselle +Saget. “Mind you pay attention.” +</p> + +<p> +Beautiful Lisa smilingly quitted her counter. She crossed the shop-floor at a +leisurely pace, and came and offered her hand to the beautiful Norman. She also +was smartly dressed, with her dazzling linen and scrupulous neatness. A murmur +ran through the crowd of fish-wives, all their heads gathered close together, +and animated chatter ensued. The two women had gone inside the shop, and the +<i>crepines</i> in the window prevented them from being clearly seen. However, +they seemed to be conversing affectionately, addressing pretty compliments to +one another. +</p> + +<p> +“See!” suddenly exclaimed Mademoiselle Saget, “the beautiful +Norman’s buying something! What is it she’s buying? It’s a +chitterling, I believe! Ah! Look! look! You didn’t see it, did you? Well, +beautiful Lisa just gave her the photograph; she slipped it into her hand with +the chitterling.” +</p> + +<p> +Fresh salutations were then seen to pass between the two women; and the +beautiful Lisa, exceeding even the courtesies which had been agreed upon, +accompanied the beautiful Norman to the footway. There they stood laughing +together, exhibiting themselves to the neighbourhood like a couple of good +friends. The markets were quite delighted; and the saleswomen returned to their +stalls, declaring that everything had passed off extremely well. +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget, however, detained Madame Lecœur and La Sarriette. The +drama was not over yet. All three kept their eyes fixed on the house opposite +with such keen curiosity that they seemed trying to penetrate the very walls. +To pass the time away they once more began to talk of the beautiful Norman. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s without a lover now,” remarked Madame Lecœur. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! she’s got Monsieur Lebigre,” replied La Sarriette, with +a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“But surely Monsieur Lebigre won’t have anything more to say to +her.” +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget shrugged her shoulders. “Ah, you don’t know +him,” she said. “He won’t care a straw about all this +business. He knows what he’s about, and La Normande is rich. +They’ll come together in a couple of months, you’ll see. Old Madame +Mehudin’s been scheming to bring about their marriage for a long time +past.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, anyway,” retorted the butter dealer, “the commissary +found Florent at her lodgings.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, indeed; I’m sure I never told you that. The long +spindle-shanks had gone way,” replied the old maid. She paused to take a +breath; then resumed in an indignant tone, “What distressed me most was +to hear of all the abominable things that the villain had taught little Muche. +You’d really never believe it. There was a whole bundle of papers.” +</p> + +<p> +“What sort of abominable things?” asked La Sarriette with interest. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, all kinds of filth. The commissary said there was quite sufficient +there to hang him. The fellow’s a perfect monster! To go and demoralise a +child! Why, it’s almost past believing! Little Muche is certainly a +scamp, but that’s no reason why he should be given over to the +‘Reds,’ is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly not,” assented the two others. +</p> + +<p> +“However, all these mysterious goings-on will come to an end now. You +remember my telling you once that there was some strange goings-on at the +Quenus’? Well, you see, I was right in my conclusions, wasn’t I? +Thank God, however, the neighbourhood will now be able to breathe easily. It +was high time strong steps were taken, for things had got to such a pitch that +one actually felt afraid of being murdered in broad daylight. There was no +pleasure in life. All the dreadful stories and reports one heard were enough to +worry one to death. And it was all owing to that man, that dreadful Florent. +Now beautiful Lisa and the beautiful Norman have sensibly made friends again. +It was their duty to do so for the sake of the peace and quietness of us all. +Everything will go on satisfactorily now, you’ll find. Ah! there’s +poor Monsieur Quenu laughing yonder!” +</p> + +<p> +Quenu had again come on to the footway, and was joking with Madame +Taboureau’s little servant. He seemed quite gay and skittish that +morning. He took hold of the little servant’s hands, and squeezed her +fingers so tightly, in the exuberance of his spirits, that he made her cry out. +Lisa had the greatest trouble to get him to go back into the kitchen. She was +impatiently pacing about the shop, fearing lest Florent should make his +appearance; and she called to her husband to come away, dreading a meeting +between him and his brother. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s getting quite vexed,” said Mademoiselle Saget. +“Poor Monsieur Quenu, you see, knows nothing at all about what’s +taking place. Just look at him there, laughing like a child! Madame Taboureau, +you know, said that she should have nothing more to do with the Quenus if they +persisted in bringing themselves into discredit by keeping that Florent with +them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, now, I suppose, they will stick to the fortune,” remarked +Madame Lecœur. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, indeed, my dear. The other one has had his share already.” +</p> + +<p> +“Really? How do you know that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it’s clear enough, that is!” replied the old maid after +a momentary hesitation, but without giving any proof of her assertions. +“He’s had even more than his share. The Quenus will be several +thousand francs out of pocket. Money flies, you know, when a man has such vices +as he has. I dare say you don’t know that there was another woman mixed +up in it all. Yes, indeed, old Madame Verlaque, the wife of the former +inspector; you know the sallow-faced thing well enough.” +</p> + +<p> +The others protested that it surely wasn’t possible. Why, Madame Verlaque +was positively hideous! +</p> + +<p> +“What! do you think me a liar?” cried Mademoiselle Saget, with +angry indignation. “Why, her letters to him have been found, a whole pile +of letters, in which she asks for money, ten and twenty francs at a time. +There’s no doubt at all about it. I’m quite certain in my own mind +that they killed the husband between them.” +</p> + +<p> +La Sarriette and Madame Lecœur were convinced; but they were beginning to get +very impatient. They had been waiting on the footway for more than an hour, and +feared that somebody might be robbing their stalls during their long absence. +So Mademoiselle Saget began to give them some further interesting information +to keep them from going off. Florent could not have taken to flight, said she; +he was certain to return, and it would be very interesting to see him arrested. +Then she went on to describe the trap that had been laid for him, while Madame +Lecœur and La Sarriette continued scrutinising the house from top to bottom, +keeping watch upon every opening, and at each moment expecting to see the hats +of the detectives appear at one of the doors or windows. +</p> + +<p> +“Who would ever imagine, now, that the place was full of police?” +observed the butter dealer. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! they’re in the garret at the top,” said the old maid. +“They’ve left the window open, you see, just as they found it. +Look! I think I can see one of them hiding behind the pomegranate on the +balcony.” +</p> + +<p> +The others excitedly craned out their necks, but could see nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, no, it’s only a shadow,” continued Mademoiselle Saget. +“The little curtains even are perfectly still. The detectives must be +sitting down in the room, and keeping quiet.” +</p> + +<p> +Just at that moment the women caught sight of Gavard coming out of the fish +market with a thoughtful air. They looked at him with glistening eyes, without +speaking. They had drawn close to one another, and stood there rigid in their +drooping skirts. The poultry dealer came up to them. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you seen Florent go by?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +They replied that they had not. +</p> + +<p> +“I want to speak to him at once,” continued Gavard. “He +isn’t in the fish market. He must have gone up to his room. But you would +have seen him, though, if he had.” +</p> + +<p> +The women had turned rather pale. They still kept looking at each other with a +knowing expression, their lips twitching slightly every now and then. “We +have only been here some five minutes, said Madame Lecœur unblushingly, as her +brother-in-law still stood hesitating. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, then, I’ll go upstairs and see. I’ll risk the five +flights,” rejoined Gavard with a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +La Sarriette stepped forward as though she wished to detain him, but her aunt +took hold of her arm and drew her back. +</p> + +<p> +“Let him alone, you big simpleton!” she whispered. +“It’s the best thing that can happen to him. It’ll teach him +to treat us with respect in future.” +</p> + +<p> +“He won’t say again that I ate tainted meat,” muttered +Mademoiselle Saget in a low tone. +</p> + +<p> +They said nothing more. La Sarriette was very red; but the two others still +remained quite yellow. But they now averted their heads, feeling confused by +each other’s looks, and at a loss what to do with their hands, which they +buried beneath their aprons. Presently their eyes instinctively came back to +the house, penetrating the walls, as it were, following Gavard in his progress +up the stairs. When they imagined that he had entered Florent’s room they +again exchanged furtive glances. La Sarriette laughed nervously. All at once +they fancied they could see the window curtains moving, and this led them to +believe that a struggle was taking place. But the house-front remained as +tranquil as ever in the sunshine; and another quarter of an hour of unbroken +quietness passed away, during which the three women’s nervous excitement +became more and more intense. They were beginning to feel quite faint when a +man hurriedly came out of the passage and ran off to get a cab. Five minutes +later Gavard appeared, followed by two police officers. Lisa, who had stepped +out on to the footway on observing the cab, hastily hurried back into the shop. +</p> + +<p> +Gavard was very pale. The police had searched him upstairs, and had discovered +the revolver and cartridge case in his possession. Judging by the +commissary’s stern expression on hearing his name, the poultry dealer +deemed himself lost. This was a terrible ending to his plotting that had never +entered into his calculations. The Tuileries would never forgive him! His legs +gave way beneath him as though the firing party was already awaiting him +outside. When he got into the street, however, his vanity lent him sufficient +strength to walk erect; and he even managed to force a smile, as he knew the +market people were looking at him. They should see him die bravely, he +resolved. +</p> + +<p> +However, La Sarriette and Madame Lecœur rushed up to him and anxiously +inquired what was the matter; and the butter dealer began to cry, while La +Sarriette embraced her uncle, manifesting the deepest emotion. As Gavard held +her clasped in his arms, he slipped a key into her hand, and whispered in her +ear: “Take everything, and burn the papers.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he got into the cab with the same mien as he would have ascended the +scaffold. As the vehicle disappeared round the corner of the Rue Pierre Lescot, +Madame Lecœur observed La Sarriette trying to hide the key in her pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s of no use you trying that little game on me, my dear,” +she exclaimed, clenching her teeth; “I saw him slip it into your hand. As +true as there’s a God in Heaven, I’ll go to the gaol and tell him +everything, if you don’t treat me properly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I shall treat you properly, aunt, dear,” replied La +Sarriette, with an embarrassed smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, then, let us go to his rooms at once. It’s of no use to +give the police time to poke their dirty hands in the cupboards.” +</p> + +<p> +Mademoiselle Saget, who had been listening with gleaming eyes, followed them, +running along in the rear as quickly as her short legs could carry her. She had +no thought, now, of waiting for Florent. From the Rue Rambuteau to the Rue de +la Cossonnerie she manifested the most humble obsequiousness, and volunteered +to explain matters to Madame Leonce, the doorkeeper. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ll see, we’ll see,” the butter dealer curtly +replied. +</p> + +<p> +However, on reaching the house a preliminary parley—as Mademoiselle Saget +had opined—proved to be necessary. Madame Leonce refused to allow the +women to go up to her tenant’s room. She put on an expression of severe +austerity, and seemed greatly shocked by the sight of La Sarriette’s +loosely fastened fichu. However, after the old maid had whispered a few words +to her and she was shown the key, she gave way. When they got upstairs she +surrendered the rooms and furniture to the others article by article, +apparently as heartbroken as if she had been compelled to show a party of +burglars the place where her own money was secreted. +</p> + +<p> +“There, take everything and have done with it!” she cried at last, +throwing herself into an arm-chair. +</p> + +<p> +La Sarriette was already eagerly trying the key in the locks of different +closets. Madame Lecœur, all suspicion, pressed her so closely that she +exclaimed: “Really, aunt, you get in my way. Do leave my arms free, at +any rate.” +</p> + +<p> +At last they succeeded in opening a wardrobe opposite the window, between the +fireplace and the bed. And then all four women broke into exclamations. On the +middle shelf lay some ten thousand francs in gold, methodically arranged in +little piles. Gavard, who had prudently deposited the bulk of his fortune in +the hands of a notary, had kept this sum by him for the purposes of the coming +outbreak. He had been wont to say with great solemnity that his contribution to +the revolution was quite ready. The fact was that he had sold out certain +stock, and every night took an intense delight in contemplating those ten +thousand francs, gloating over them, and finding something quite roysterous and +insurrectional in their appearance. Sometimes when he was in bed he dreamed +that a fight was going on in the wardrobe; he could hear guns being fired +there, paving-stones being torn up and piled into barricades, and voices +shouting in clamorous triumph; and he said to himself that it was his money +fighting against the Government. +</p> + +<p> +La Sarriette, however, had stretched out her hands with a cry of delight. +</p> + +<p> +“Paws off, little one!” exclaimed Madame Lecœur in a hoarse voice. +</p> + +<p> +As she stood there in the reflection of the gold, she looked yellower than +ever—her face discoloured by biliousness, her eyes glowing feverishly +from the liver complaint which was secretly undermining her. Behind her +Mademoiselle Saget on tip-toe was gazing ecstatically into the wardrobe, and +Madame Leonce had now risen from her seat, and was growling sulkily. +</p> + +<p> +“My uncle said I was to take everything,” declared the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“And am I to have nothing, then; I who have done so much for him?” +cried the doorkeeper. +</p> + +<p> +Madame Lecœur was almost choking with excitement. She pushed the others away, +and clung hold of the wardrobe, screaming: “It all belongs to me! I am +his nearest relative. You are a pack of thieves, you are! I’d rather +throw it all out of the window than see you have it!” +</p> + +<p> +Then silence fell, and they all four stood glowering at each other. The +kerchief that La Sarriette wore over her breast was now altogether unfastened, +and she displayed her bosom heaving with warm life, her moist red lips, her +rosy nostrils. Madame Lecœur grew still more sour as she saw how lovely the +girl looked in the excitement of her longing desire. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she said in a lower tone, “we won’t fight about +it. You are his niece, and I’ll divide the money with you. We will each +take a pile in turn.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon they pushed the other two aside. The butter dealer took the first +pile, which at once disappeared within her skirts. Then La Sarriette took a +pile. They kept a close watch upon one another, ready to fight at the slightest +attempt at cheating. Their fingers were thrust forward in turn, the hideous +knotted fingers of the aunt and the white fingers of the niece, soft and supple +as silk. Slowly they filled their pockets. When there was only one pile left, +La Sarriette objected to her aunt taking it, as she had commenced; and she +suddenly divided it between Mademoiselle Saget and Madame Leonce, who had +watched them pocket the gold with feverish impatience. +</p> + +<p> +“Much obliged to you!” snarled the doorkeeper. “Fifty francs +for having coddled him up with tisane and broth! The old deceiver told me he +had no relatives!” +</p> + +<p> +Before locking the wardrobe up again, Madame Lecœur searched it thoroughly +from top to bottom. It contained all the political works which were forbidden +admission into the country, the pamphlets printed at Brussels, the scandalous +histories of the Bonapartes, and the foreign caricatures ridiculing the +Emperor. One of Gavard’s greatest delights was to shut himself up with a +friend, and show him all these compromising things. +</p> + +<p> +“He told me that I was to burn all the papers,” said La Sarriette. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nonsense! we’ve no fire, and it would take up too long. The +police will soon be here! We must get out of this!” +</p> + +<p> +They all four hastened off; but they had not reached the bottom of the stairs +before the police met them, and made Madame Leonce return with them upstairs. +The three others, making themselves as small as possible, hurriedly escaped +into the street. They walked away in single file at a brisk pace; the aunt and +niece considerably incommoded by the weight of their drooping pockets. +Mademoiselle Saget had kept her fifty francs in her closed fist, and remained +deep in thought, brooding over a plan for extracting something more from the +heavy pockets in front of her. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” she exclaimed, as they reached the corner of the fish market, +“we’ve got here at a lucky moment. There’s Florent yonder, +just going to walk into the trap.” +</p> + +<p> +Florent, indeed, was just then returning to the markets after his prolonged +perambulation. He went into his office to change his coat, and then set about +his daily duties, seeing that the marble slabs were properly washed, and slowly +strolling along the alleys. He fancied that the fish-wives looked at him in a +somewhat strange manner; they chuckled too, and smiled significantly as he +passed them. Some new vexation, he thought, was in store for him. For some time +past those huge, terrible women had not allowed him a day’s peace. +However, as he passed the Mehudins’ stall he was very much surprised to +hear the old woman address him in a honeyed tone: “There’s just +been a gentleman inquiring for you, Monsieur Florent; a middle-aged gentleman. +He’s gone to wait for you in your room.” +</p> + +<p> +As the old fish-wife, who was squatting, all of a heap, on her chair, spoke +these words, she felt such a delicious thrill of satisfied vengeance that her +huge body fairly quivered. Florent, still doubtful, glanced at the beautiful +Norman; but the young woman, now completely reconciled with her mother, turned +on her tap and slapped her fish, pretending not to hear what was being said. +</p> + +<p> +“You are quite sure?” said Florent to Mother Mehudin. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, indeed. Isn’t that so, Louise?” said the old woman +in a shriller voice. +</p> + +<p> +Florent concluded that it must be some one who wanted to see him about the +great business, and he resolved to go up to his room. He was just about to +leave the pavilion, when, happening to turn round, he observed the beautiful +Norman watching him with a grave expression on her face. Then he passed in +front of the three gossips. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you notice that there’s no one in the pork shop?” +remarked Mademoiselle Saget. “Beautiful Lisa’s not the woman to +compromise herself.” +</p> + +<p> +The shop was, indeed, quite empty. The front of the house was still bright with +sunshine; the building looked like some honest, prosperous pile guilelessly +warming itself in the morning rays. Up above, the pomegranate on the balcony +was in full bloom. As Florent crossed the roadway he gave a friendly nod to +Logre and Monsieur Lebigre, who appeared to be enjoying the fresh air on the +doorstep of the latter’s establishment. They returned his greeting with a +smile. Florent was then about to enter the side-passage, when he fancied he saw +Auguste’s pale face hastily vanishing from its dark and narrow depths. +Thereupon he turned back and glanced into the shop to make sure that the +middle-aged gentleman was not waiting for him there. But he saw no one but +Mouton, who sat on a block displaying his double chin and bristling whiskers, +and gazed at him defiantly with his great yellow eyes. And when he had at last +made up his mind to enter the passage, Lisa’s face appeared behind the +little curtain of a glazed door at the back of the shop. +</p> + +<p> +A hush had fallen over the fish market. All the huge paunches and bosoms held +their breath, waiting till Florent should disappear from sight. Then there was +an uproarious outbreak; and the bosoms heaved wildly and the paunches nearly +burst with malicious delight. The joke had succeeded. Nothing could be more +comical. As old Mother Mehudin vented her merriment she shook and quivered like +a wine-skin that is being emptied. Her story of the middle-aged gentleman went +the round of the market, and the fish-wives found it extremely amusing. At last +the long spindle-shanks was collared, and they would no longer always have his +miserable face and gaol-bird’s expression before their eyes. They all +wished him a pleasant journey, and trusted that they might get a handsome +fellow for their next inspector. And in their delight they rushed about from +one stall to another, and felt inclined to dance round their marble slabs like +a lot of holiday-making schoolgirls. The beautiful Norman, however, watched +this outbreak of joy in a rigid attitude, not daring to move for fear she +should burst into tears; and she kept her hands pressed upon a big skate to +cool her feverish excitement. +</p> + +<p> +“You see how those Mehudins turn their backs upon him now that he’s +come to grief,” said Madame Lecœur. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, and they’re quite right too,” replied Mademoiselle +Saget. “Besides, matters are settled now, my dear, and we’re to +have no more disputes. You’ve every reason to be satisfied; leave the +others to act as they please.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s only the old woman who is laughing,” La Sarriette +remarked; “La Normande looks anything but happy.” +</p> + +<p> +Meantime, upstairs in his bedroom, Florent allowed himself to be taken as +unresistingly as a sheep. The police officers sprang roughly upon him, +expecting, no doubt, that they would meet with a desperate resistance. He +quietly begged them to leave go of him; and then sat down on a chair while they +packed up his papers, and the red scarves, armlets, and banners. He did not +seem at all surprised at this ending; indeed, it was something of a relief to +him, though he would not frankly confess it. But he suffered acutely at thought +of the bitter hatred which had sent him into that room; he recalled +Auguste’s pale face and the sniggering looks of the fish-wives; he +bethought himself of old Madame Mehudin’s words, La Normande’s +silence, and the empty shop downstairs. The markets were leagued against him, +he reflected; the whole neighbourhood had conspired to hand him over to the +police. The mud of those greasy streets had risen up all around to overwhelm +him! +</p> + +<p> +And amidst all the round faces which flitted before his mind’s eye there +suddenly appeared that of Quenu, and a spasm of mortal agony contracted his +heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, get along downstairs!” exclaimed one of the officers, +roughly. +</p> + +<p> +Florent rose and proceeded to go downstairs. When he reached the second floor +he asked to be allowed to return; he had forgotten something, he said. But the +officers refused to let him go back, and began to hustle him forward. Then he +besought them to let him return to his room again, and even offered them the +money he had in his pocket. Two of them at last consented to return with him, +threatening to blow his brains out should he attempt to play them any trick; +and they drew their revolvers out of their pockets as they spoke. However, on +reaching his room once more Florent simply went straight to the +chaffinch’s cage, took the bird out of it, kissed it between its wings, +and set it at liberty. He watched it fly away through the open window, into the +sunshine, and alight, as though giddy, on the roof of the fish market. Then it +flew off again and disappeared over the markets in the direction of the Square +des Innocents. For a moment longer Florent remained face to face with the sky, +the free and open sky; and he thought of the wood-pigeons cooing in the garden +of the Tuileries, and of those other pigeons down in the market cellars with +their throats slit by Marjolin’s knife. Then he felt quite broken, and +turned and followed the officers, who were putting their revolvers back into +their pockets as they shrugged their shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +On reaching the bottom of the stairs, Florent stopped before the door which led +into the kitchen. The commissary, who was waiting for him there, seemed almost +touched by his gentle submissiveness, and asked him: “Would you like to +say good-bye to your brother?” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Florent hesitated. He looked at the door. A tremendous noise of +cleavers and pans came from the kitchen. Lisa, with the design of keeping her +husband occupied, had persuaded him to make the black-puddings in the morning +instead of in the evening, as was his wont. The onions were simmering on the +fire, and over all the noisy uproar Florent could hear Quenu’s joyous +voice exclaiming, “Ah, dash it all, the pudding will be excellent, that +it will! Auguste, hand me the fat!” +</p> + +<p> +Florent thanked the commissary, but refused his offer. He was afraid to return +any more into that warm kitchen, reeking with the odour of boiling onions, and +so he went on past the door, happy in the thought that his brother knew nothing +of what had happened to him, and hastening his steps as if to spare the +establishment all further worry. However, on emerging into the open sunshine of +the street he felt a touch of shame, and got into the cab with bent back and +ashen face. He was conscious that the fish market was gazing at him in triumph; +it seemed to him, indeed, as though the whole neighbourhood had gathered there +to rejoice at his fall. +</p> + +<p> +“What a villainous expression he’s got!” said Mademoiselle +Saget. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed, he looks just like a thief caught with his hand in +somebody’s till,” added Madame Lecœur. +</p> + +<p> +“I once saw a man guillotined who looked exactly like he does,” +asserted La Sarriette, showing her white teeth. +</p> + +<p> +They stepped forward, lengthened their necks, and tried to see into the cab. +Just as it was starting, however, the old maid tugged sharply at the skirts of +her companions, and pointed to Claire, who was coming round the corner of the +Rue Pirouette, looking like a mad creature, with her hair loose and her nails +bleeding. She had at last succeeded in opening her door. When she discovered +that she was too late, and that Florent was being taken off, she darted after +the cab, but checked herself almost immediately with a gesture of impotent +rage, and shook her fists at the receding wheels. Then, with her face quite +crimson beneath the fine plaster dust with which she was covered, she ran back +again towards the Rue Pirouette. +</p> + +<p> +“Had he promised to marry her, eh?” exclaimed La Sarriette, +laughing. “The silly fool must be quite cracked.” +</p> + +<p> +Little by little the neighbourhood calmed down, though throughout the day +groups of people constantly assembled and discussed the events of the morning. +The pork shop was the object of much inquisitive curiosity. Lisa avoided +appearing there, and left the counter in charge of Augustine. In the afternoon +she felt bound to tell Quenu of what had happened, for fear the news might +cause him too great a shock should he hear it from some gossiping neighbour. +She waited till she was alone with him in the kitchen, knowing that there he +was always most cheerful, and would weep less than if he were anywhere else. +Moreover, she communicated her tidings with all sorts of motherly precautions. +Nevertheless, as soon as he knew the truth he fell on the chopping-block, and +began to cry like a calf. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, now, my poor dear, don’t give way like that; you’ll +make yourself quite ill,” exclaimed Lisa, taking him in her arms. +</p> + +<p> +His tears were inundating his white apron, the whole of his massive, torpid +form quivered with grief. He seemed to be sinking, melting away. When he was at +last able to speak, he stammered: “Oh, you don’t know how good he +was to me when we lived together in the Rue Royer-Collard! He did everything. +He swept the room and cooked the meals. He loved me as though I were his own +child; and after his day’s work he used to come back splashed with mud, +and so tired that he could scarcely move, while I stayed warm and comfortable +in the house, and had nothing to do but eat. And now they’re going to +shoot him!” +</p> + +<p> +At this Lisa protested, saying that he would certainly not be shot. But Quenu +only shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t loved him half as much as I ought to have done,” +he continued. “I can see that very well now. I had a wicked heart, and I +hesitated about giving him his half of the money.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I offered it to him a dozen times and more!” Lisa +interrupted. “I’m sure we’ve nothing to reproach ourselves +with.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, I know that you are everything that is good, and that you would +have given him every copper. But I hesitated, I didn’t like to part with +it; and now it will be a sorrow to me for the rest of my life. I shall always +think that if I’d shared the fortune with him he wouldn’t have gone +wrong a second time. Oh, yes; it’s my fault! It is I who have driven him +to this.” +</p> + +<p> +Then Lisa, expostulating still more gently, assured him that he had nothing to +blame himself for, and even expressed some pity for Florent. But he was really +very culpable, she said, and if he had had more money he would probably have +perpetrated greater follies. Gradually she gave her husband to understand that +it was impossible matters could have had any other termination, and that now +everything would go on much better. Quenu was still weeping, wiping his cheeks +with his apron, trying to suppress his sobs to listen to her, and then breaking +into a wilder fit of tears than before. His fingers had mechanically sought a +heap of sausage-meat lying on the block, and he was digging holes in it, and +roughly kneading it together. +</p> + +<p> +“And how unwell you were feeling, you know,” Lisa continued. +“It was all because our life had got so shifted out of its usual course. +I was very anxious, though I didn’t tell you so, at seeing you getting so +low.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, wasn’t I?” he murmured, ceasing to sob for a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“And the business has been quite under a cloud this year. It was as +though a spell had been cast on it. Come, now, don’t take on so; +you’ll see that everything will look up again now. You must take care of +yourself, you know, for my sake and your daughter’s. You have duties to +us as well as to others, remember.” +</p> + +<p> +Quenu was now kneading the sausage-meat more gently. Another burst of emotion +was thrilling him, but it was a softer emotion, which was already bringing a +vague smile to his grief-stricken face. Lisa felt that she had convinced him, +and she turned and called to Pauline, who was playing in the shop, and sat her +on Quenu’s knee. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell your father, Pauline, that he ought not to give way like this. Ask +him nicely not to go on distressing us so.” +</p> + +<p> +The child did as she was told, and their fat, sleek forms united in a general +embrace. They all three looked at one another, already feeling cured of that +twelve months’ depression from which they had but just emerged. Their +big, round faces smiled, and Lisa softly repeated, “And after all, my +dear, there are only we three, you know, only we three.” +</p> + +<p> +Two months later Florent was again sentenced to transportation. The affair +caused a great stir. The newspapers published all possible details, and gave +portraits of the accused, sketches of the banners and scarves, and plans of the +places where the conspirators had met. For a fortnight nothing but the great +plot of the central markets was talked of in Paris. The police kept on +launching more and more alarming reports, and it was at last even declared that +the whole of the Montmartre Quarter was undermined. The excitement in the Corps +Législatif was so intense that the members of the Centre and the Right forgot +their temporary disagreement over the Imperial Grant Bill, and became +reconciled. And then by an overwhelming majority they voted the unpopular tax, +of which even the lower classes, in the panic which was sweeping over the city, +dared no longer complain. +</p> + +<p> +The trial lasted a week. Florent was very much surprised at the number of +accomplices with which he found himself credited. Out of the twenty and more +who were placed in the dock with him, he knew only some six or seven. After the +sentence of the court had been read, he fancied he could see Robine’s +innocent-looking hat and back going off quietly through the crowd. Logre was +acquitted, as was also Lacaille; Alexandre was sentenced to two years’ +imprisonment for his child-like complicity in the conspiracy; while as for +Gavard, he, like Florent, was condemned to transportation. This was a heavy +blow, which quite crushed him amidst the final enjoyment that he derived from +those lengthy proceedings in which he had managed to make himself so +conspicuous. He was paying very dearly for the way in which he had vented the +spirit of perpetual opposition peculiar to the Paris shopkeeping classes. Two +big tears coursed down his scared face—the face of a white-haired child. +</p> + +<p> +And then one morning in August, amidst the busy awakening of the markets, +Claude Lantier, sauntering about in the thick of the arriving vegetables, with +his waist tightly girded by his red sash, came to grasp Madame Francois’s +hand close by Saint Eustache. She was sitting on her carrots and turnips, and +her long face looked very sad. The artist, too, was gloomy, notwithstanding the +bright sun which was already softening the deep-green velvet of the mountains +of cabbages. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it’s all over now,” he said. “They are sending +him back again. He’s already on his way to Brest, I believe.” +</p> + +<p> +Madame Francois made a gesture of mute grief. Then she gently waved her hand +around, and murmured in a low voice; “Ah, it is all Paris’s doing, +this villainous Paris!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, not quite that; but I know whose doing it is, the contemptible +creatures!” exclaimed Claude, clenching his fists. “Do you know, +Madame Francois, there was nothing too ridiculous for those fellows in the +court to say! Why, they even went ferreting in a child’s copy-books! That +great idiot of a Public Prosecutor made a tremendous fuss over them, and ranted +about the respect due to children, and the wickedness of demagogical education! +It makes me quite sick to think of it all!” +</p> + +<p> +A shudder of disgust shook him, and then, burying himself more deeply in his +discoloured cloak, he resumed: “To think of it! A man who was as gentle +as a girl! Why, I saw him turn quite faint at seeing a pigeon killed! I +couldn’t help smiling with pity when I saw him between two gendarmes. Ah, +well, we shall never see him again! He won’t come back this time.” +</p> + +<p> +“He ought to have listened to me,” said Madame Francois, after a +pause, “and have come to live at Nanterre with my fowls and rabbits. I +was very fond of him, you see, for I could tell that he was a good-hearted +fellow. Ah, we might have been so happy together! It’s a sad pity. Well, +we must bear it as best we can, Monsieur Claude. Come and see me one of these +days. I’ll have an omelet ready for you.” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes were dim with tears; but all at once she sprang up like a brave woman +who bears her sorrows with fortitude. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” she exclaimed, “here’s old Mother Chantemesse +coming to buy some turnips of me. The fat old lady’s as sprightly as +ever!” +</p> + +<p> +Claude went off, and strolled about the footways. The dawn had risen in the +white sheaf of light at the end of the Rue Rambuteau; and the sun, now level +with the house-tops, was diffusing rosy rays which already fell in warm patches +on the pavements. Claude was conscious of a gay awakening in the huge resonant +markets—indeed, all over the neighbourhood—crowded with piles of +food. It was like the joy that comes after cure, the mirth of folks who are at +last relieved of a heavy weight which has been pulling them down. He saw La +Sarriette displaying a gold chain and singing amidst her plums and +strawberries, while she playfully pulled the moustaches of Monsieur Jules, who +was arrayed in a velvet jacket. He also caught sight of Madame Lecœur and +Mademoiselle Saget passing along one of the covered ways, and looking less +sallow than usual—indeed, almost rosy—as they laughed like bosom +friends over some amusing story. In the fish market, old Madame Mehudin, who +had returned to her stall, was slapping her fish, abusing customers, and +snubbing the new inspector, a presumptuous young man whom she had sworn to +spank; while Claire, seemingly more languid and indolent than ever, extended +her hands, blue from immersion in the water of her tanks, to gather together a +great heap of edible snails, shimmering with silvery slime. In the tripe market +Auguste and Augustine, with the foolish expression of newly-married people, had +just been purchasing some pigs’ trotters, and were starting off in a trap +for their pork shop at Montrouge. Then, as it was now eight o’clock and +already quite warm, Claude, on again coming to the Rue Rambuteau, perceived +Muche and Pauline playing at horses. Muche was crawling along on all-fours, +while Pauline sat on his back, and clung to his hair to keep herself from +falling. However, a moving shadow which fell from the eaves of the market roof +made Claude look up; and he then espied Cadine and Marjolin aloft, kissing and +warming themselves in the sunshine, parading their loves before the whole +neighbourhood like a pair of light-hearted animals. +</p> + +<p> +Claude shook his fist at them. All this joyousness down below and on high +exasperated him. He reviled the Fat; the Fat, he declared, had conquered the +Thin. All around him he could see none but the Fat protruding their paunches, +bursting with robust health, and greeting with delight another day of gorging +and digestion. And a last blow was dealt to him by the spectacle which he +perceived on either hand as he halted opposite the Rue Pirouette. +</p> + +<p> +On his right, the beautiful Norman, or the beautiful Madame Lebigre, as she was +now called, stood at the door of her shop. Her husband had at length been +granted the privilege of adding a State tobacco agency[*] to his wine shop, a +long-cherished dream of his which he had finally been able to realise through +the great services he had rendered to the authorities. And to Claude the +beautiful Madame Lebigre looked superb, with her silk dress and her frizzed +hair, quite ready to take her seat behind her counter, whither all the +gentlemen in the neighbourhood flocked to buy their cigars and packets of +tobacco. She had become quite distinguished, quite the lady. The shop behind +her had been newly painted, with borders of twining vine-branches showing +against a soft background; the zinc-plated wine-counter gleamed brightly, and +in the tall mirror the flasks of liqueurs set brighter flashes of colour than +ever. And the mistress of all these things stood smiling radiantly at the +bright sunshine. +</p> + +<p class="footnote"> +[*] Most readers will remember that the tobacco trade is a State monopoly in +France. The retail tobacconists are merely Government agents.—Translator. +</p> + +<p> +Then, on Claude’s left, the beautiful Lisa blocked up the doorway of her +shop as she stood on the threshold. Never before had her linen shone with such +dazzling whiteness; never had her serene face and rosy cheeks appeared in a +more lustrous setting of glossy locks. She displayed the deep calmness of +repletion, a massive tranquillity unruffled even by a smile. She was a picture +of absolute quietude, of perfect felicity, not only cloudless but lifeless, the +simple felicity of basking in the warm atmosphere. Her tightly stretched bodice +seemed to be still digesting the happiness of yesterday; while her dimpled +hands, hidden in the folds of her apron, did not even trouble to grasp at the +happiness of to-day, certain as they were that it would come of itself. And the +shop-window at her side seemed to display the same felicity. It had recovered +from its former blight; the tongues lolled out, red and healthy; the hams had +regained their old chubbiness of form; the festoons of sausages no longer wore +that mournful air which had so greatly distressed Quenu. Hearty laughter, +accompanied by a jubilant clattering of pans, sounded from the kitchen in the +rear. The whole place again reeked with fat health. The flitches of bacon and +the sides of pork that hung against the marble showed roundly like paunches, +triumphant paunches, whilst Lisa, with her imposing breadth of shoulders and +dignity of mien, bade the markets good morning with those big eyes of hers +which so clearly bespoke a gross feeder. +</p> + +<p> +However, the two women bowed to each other. Beautiful Madame Lebigre and +beautiful Madame Quenu exchanged a friendly salute. +</p> + +<p> +And then Claude, who had certainly forgotten to dine on the previous day, was +thrilled with anger at seeing them standing there, looking so healthy and +well-to-do with their buxom bosoms; and tightening his sash, he growled in a +tone of irritation: +</p> + +<p> +“What blackguards respectable people are!” +</p> + +</div><!--end chapter--> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FAT AND THE THIN ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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