And Mademoiselle Bastringuette, whose eyes detected the most carefully hidden secrets of a man's toilet, pointed out to Tobie's friends a place in his silk waistcoat, which, although it was almost hidden by his coat, she had discovered. There was a rent large enough to show the sleeve of his shirt, which was of a coarse and yellow linen vastly different from that of the front. The stout young man made haste to button his coat. "I must have torn it when I put it on," he said. "My tailor always makes the armholes too small! and then, _crac!_ an accident." "Oh! no, monsieur; that wasn't an accident! it's pretty well worn out on that side. See, it's like my dress! There's some attic windows for you!" As she spoke, Mademoiselle Bastringuette lifted her arms and showed two great holes in her dress, under her armpits. "I hope you'll believe that I've got another one to put on, though," she continued, with a smile. "Bah! what do I care! it won't hinder my selling my violets! And even if someone does see my skin! There's no harm done, after all. I haven't got a turkey's skin, like lots of women that have fine dresses and a dirty lining." "She's very original; indeed, she's quite--original, is this girl," said Tobie, who was very glad that she had ceased to talk about his waistcoat; "she amuses me mightily." "Why," said Albert, "didn't you know her before?" "This is the first time I ever saw her." "For a man who has lived in the Chaussée d'Antin for three years, that is very surprising. Everybody about here knows Bastringuette, the flower girl who sells violets on Boulevard des Italiens." "I seldom buy flowers; their odor makes me ill." "Yes, I sell violets when there are any," said Bastringuette; "but when they're all gone, I sell other things--oranges, nuts, green peas, lettuce. There's always something to sell, at all seasons, and that's why they call us _marchandes des quatre saisons_." "It seems to me that your lover doesn't keep you very handsomely," observed Célestin, with a mocking glance at the girl. "My lover! _dame!_ I don't know how he does it, but he never has a sou; and he's little better off for clothes than I am; luckily, love don't need a new coat to keep warm." "Are you still with Sans-Cravate?" asked Albert, taking the largest bunch of violets on the girl's tray. "To be sure. Oh! we poor girls aren't like the great ladies; we don't change our bill of fare every day." "What! is that ne'er-do-well of a Sans-Cravate your lover?" said Célestin. "I don't congratulate you, my poor Bastringuette! The fellow often beats you, I suppose, doesn't he?"