“At thirty-four sous. I have some which is first rate. Will you come and look at it?” “Well, I don’t know if I shall want any to-day; I’ve still a little lard left.” 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. “And how’s your niece?” Mademoiselle Saget now asked. “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.” “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?” “Oh, he——” Madame Lecœur bit her lips, and seemed disinclined to say anything more. “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—” “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.” “Ah, by the way, there he is, your brother-in-law!” suddenly exclaimed Mademoiselle Saget, lowering her voice. The two women turned and gazed at a man who was crossing the road to enter the covered way close by. “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.” 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. “Gavard!” he exclaimed. 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?” 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.