--Give us some peace. You and your Madonnas! he said laughingly, trying to make light of the Beaucairian dispute: it's women's stuff, this, men shouldn't get involved. He cracked his whip, from his high perch, as if to emphasise to his lack of religious conviction and to bring the others into line. * * * * * End of discussion. But the baker, having been stopped in full flow, wanted to continue in the same vein, and turned his attention towards the miserable cap, still morosely huddled in its corner, and quietly sneered: --You there, grinder, what about your wife? What side of the parish border does she stand on? It was as though it was meant to be a joke; the whole cart-load of them erupted into uproarious laughter ... except the grinder himself, who didn't react to the remark. This prompted the baker to turn towards me: --You don't happen to know his wife do you, monsieur? Just as well; she's a real queer fish; there can't be another one like her in Beaucaire. The increasing laughter left the grinder unmoved except for a whisper, his eyes still downcast: --Hush, baker. But there was no stopping this interfering baker, and he warmed to his theme: --He's an idiot! No man of the world would complain about having wife like that. There's never a dull moment when she's around! Think about it! A really gorgeous girl, who every six months or so, ups sticks and runs away, and, believe me, always has a pretty tale to tell when she gets back ... that's the way it is ... a funny old menagerie, that one. Work it out, monsieur, they hadn't even been hitched a year when she breezed off to Spain with a chocolate merchant. --The husband was inconsolable after that, sitting alone and drinking and crying all the time like a man possessed. After a while, she drifted back into the area, dressed like a Spaniard, complete with tambourine. We all warned her: --You'd better get lost, he'll kill you. --Kill her indeed ... Oh yes, I should say so, they made it up beautifully, she even taught him how to play the tambourine like a Basque! Once again the coach rocked with laughter. Once again, the grinder still didn't budge, just murmured again: --Hush, baker. The baker ignored this plea and went on: