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.
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:
“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.”
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—”
“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.”
“Oh, yes; I know,” replied the old maid, who, indeed, knew everything
about Charvet and Clemence, and whose only purpose was to alarm Lisa.
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.”
“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.”
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.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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