Classic Audiobook Collection - The Markets of Paris by Emile Zola ~ Full Audiobook [drama]

Episode Date: October 3, 2023

The Markets of Paris by Emile Zola audiobook. Genre: drama The Markets of Paris is a remarkable work, and is the one which Zola calls his very best novel, and of which he is far more proud than of any others in his Rougon-Marquart series – prouder than of L’Assommoir. It must have been in his early manhood, when poor and friendless, he lived among the people, that much of the information which makes these pages so startlingly vivid, was acquired. How many mornings, long before dawn, must he have visited these markets – how many hours and days must he have spent there, to have mastered the habits, manners and ways of these people, who are a class by themselves, and of whom we do not lose sight, from the beginning to the end of the book. He introduces us to the Parisian charcutier – the cook shop – and in La Belle Lina, the mistress of the establishment, we find the sister of Gervaise, the woman who stirred the depths of our hearts with pity, in L’Assommoir. In truth The Markets of Paris stands as utterly alone in modern French literature, as it is distinct and apart, from any other work even by Zola himself. It is a book for all to read. For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:27:49) Chapter 02 (00:58:22) Chapter 03 (01:27:19) Chapter 04 (02:01:45) Chapter 05 (02:39:02) Chapter 06 (03:09:38) Chapter 07 (03:39:29) Chapter 08 (04:08:56) Chapter 09 (04:37:20) Chapter 10 (05:04:48) Chapter 11 (05:34:26) Chapter 12 (06:05:31) Chapter 13 (06:37:15) Chapter 14 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The Markets of Paris by Emil I Zola Chapter 1 Part 1 Despair and Hunger Through the profound silence and loneliness of the deserted avenue, the wagons of the market gardeners rolled slowly toward Paris. The measured rhythm of their wheels re-echoed from the facades of the sleeping houses on either side, behind the confused outlines of their sheltering trees. A cart loaded with cabbages and another with peas at the Pondonagie joined eight more,

piled with carrots and turnips coming down from Nantir. The horses moved on slowly by themselves, with heads well down. The drivers slept under the striped covering, holding the reins lightly in their hands. A gas jet would flash down occasionally on the shining nails of a stout shoe, or the blue sleeve of a blouse, light up the red carrots and white turnips, and bring out the vivid green of the peas and the cabbages. From all the roads came the dull, continuous sound of wheels. lulling the black town to a deeper sleep as they bore onward through the silence and darkness this vast supply of food.

Balthazar, the horse belonging to Madame Francois, a stout, heavy animal, was at the head of the line. He walked on at a steady pace, though half asleep, gently moving his ears, when all at once, at the head of La Rue de Lonschamp, he started, and stood still, firmly planted on his four feet. The other animals did the same, and the whole line came to a halt. amidst the oaths of the awakened wagoners. Madame Francois, leaning against a board among her vegetables, looked out, but saw nothing, for the scanty light of the small lantern fell only on Baltazar's shining flanks. "'Well, mother, why don't you get on?' called out one of the men, getting upon his knees among the turnips.

"'It is only some drunken man!' She leaned out of her wagon and saw on the right, almost under the feet of the horse, a black mass lying across the road. I don't propose to drive over anyone, she said as she clambered over the wheel. It was a man lying face downwards in the dust. He seemed to be of a most extraordinary length, as thin as a withered branch. It was a miracle that Balthazar had not broken him in two with one blow of his foot. Madame Francois thought the man dead.

She knelt down by his side, took his hand, and felt that it was warm. poor fellow she said gently but the wagoners were growing impatient and the one who had previously spoken now said in his thick voice give him a push mother he is pretty full that's all the trouble roll him over into the gutter the man opened his eyes he looked at madame francois in a wild sort of way but did not move she too thought him drunk you must not lie there she said you will be run over Where are you going? I do not know, he replied in a low voice. Then he made an effort and added, I was going into the city. I fell, and I do not know.

She saw him more distinctly now. He was indeed most deplorable in appearance, with his blackened-bure coat and pantaloons clinging closely to his emaciated form. His cap, also of black cloth, pulled down over his brows, showed too bright brown eyes. of singular sweetness in a weary anxious face.

Madame Francois thought him too thin to be a drinking man. And where were you going after you get into Paris? she asked. He did not instantly reply. He was evidently annoyed at this interrogatory. He hesitated and then said slowly, I was going to the hall. He struggled to his feet with infinite difficulty and made an effort to continue his way. The market woman saw him stagger and grasped the side of the

wagon. You are tired? Yes, very tired, he replied. Then she adopted a rough authoritative tone and said, Get into the wagon at once. You are making us all lose our time. I am going to the hall, and I will take you with my vegetables. And as he refused, she lifted him with her stout, strong arms and threw him among her turnips and carrots. Don't be a fool, my good man. Don't I tell you that I am going to the hall? Go to sleep, and I will wake you when we get there. She climbed to her seat, shook her reins a little, as she gathered them up, and Baltazar calmly resumed his slow march the other wagons following. The reverberations began anew, and drivers fell asleep once more.

The one who had spoken stretched himself out and muttered, I wonder if we are to pick up all the drunken men. If that is your idea, mother, you will have enough to do. The wagons rolled on. the horse is going as they pleased. The man whom Madame Francois had rescued lay at full length among the vegetables, half covered by the spreading carrot tops.

He clutched the side of the wagon with weak loose fingers, lest he should be thrown out by a sudden jolt, and looked out at the two interminable lines of gas-lights, which afar off melted into other lights. I am from Nantes, I am called Madame Francois, said the market-woman after a long silence. Since my old man died,

I go myself every morning to the hall. It is hard work, but I must grin and bear it, I suppose. And you? My name is Florent, and I come from a great distance, answered the unknown, with some hesitation. I beg your pardon, but I am so very tired that it hurts me to speak. He was evidently determined not to talk, and she said no more, but let the lines fall a little on Baltazar's back,

as the animal knew every step of the way. Florein, with his eyes riveted on the lights of Paris, thought of the history he hoped to conceal. He had escaped from Cayenne, where he had been sent after these dark December days. He had wandered for two years in Guyana, eager to return to his native land but afraid of the imperial police. Could it be that at last he saw the dear city for which he had so long pined? He would hide himself there and live peaceably. The police would have no reason to suspect him, to the them he was as good as dead. He thought of his arrival at Havelet with fifteen francs

tied up in the corner of his handkerchief. At Rouen he left the railroad, as he had but thirty sous remaining, and at Verneau bought some bread with his last two sous. After that he could remember nothing. He thought he must have slept several hours in a ditch. A gendarmes had asked for his papers. He remembered all this in a vague sort of way. His head was dizzy, for he had come from Bernon without a mouthful, clutching at times at the leaves of the hedges and chewing them in despair. But he walked on in spite of cramps,

which nearly cut him in two, drawn on by that image of Paris waiting for him behind the distant horizon. When he reached Courbevoix, the night was very dark. Paris, like a streak of light, falling at Wharf, the blackness, appeared to him severe and retreating.

As he crossed the Pondonagie, he leaned over the parapet and saw the seine rolling below an inky blackness between the dark banks. From that point his progress was upward. The avenue seemed absolutely endless to him. The hundred of leagues he had toiled over became as nothing.

It was this last part of the road which drove him to desperation. Never would he reach that summit crowned by those lights? The avenue, with its tall trees and lower houses, its grave pavement streaked with shadows, the dark gaps made by the cross streets, the silence and the blackness, the yellow flaming gaslights at regular distances between the only suggestion of life weighed him down.

Florent could not go on. The avenue lengthened as he walked, and Paris was still farther off. It seemed to him that the very gaslights were dancing to and fro. He tottered and fell, an inert mass, on the sidewalk. And now he was lying on this soft, fresh verdure. He raised his head a little to see a wide, extent of the luminous mist that rose above the distant roofs.

He was going on without any exertion of his own, and his only pain now arose from the pangs of hunger, which had again awakened within him, and were gnawing like wild animals. The strong and penetrating odor of the carrots troubled him. He turned over on his face and pressed his stomach against those piles of food, hoping to still his cravings. And behind were nine more huge wagons, with their mountains of cabbages. and peas, their piles of artichokes and lettuce, salary and leeks. He wondered if they would fall upon him and stifle him with their abundance while he lay dying of hunger.

There was a sudden stop. A great noise of voices. They had reached the barrier and the custom house people were examining the wagons. Florent entered Paris among the carrots, sound asleep. Hello, my good man, cried Madame Francois, and as he did not move, she reached over and shook him. He struggled up. He was no longer hungry. He was dizzy and faint. The woman made him get down and then said, You will help me unload, won't you? He helped her, but a stout man with a cane and felt hat, with a metal badge on his left breast, became angry, and knocked his cane against the pavement. Come, come, make haste, that will never do. You have four maitre, haven't you? He handed a paper to Madame Francois, who drew from a linen bag.

the necessary sous, and the man ordered the wagon to move on a little, and then turned his grumbling to the next. The market-woman took Baltazar by the bridle and pushed him back until the wheels ran up to the sidewalk. She proceeded to mark her four maitre on the pavement with small bundles of straw, then lifted the board at the back, and begged Florent to hand her out the vegetables bunch by bunch. She arranged them methodically and with marvelous deftness, so that the turnip, carrot, and beet-tops framed her lest. little square with a mass of verdure, and the whole looked in the shadow like a rich carpet. When Florent handed her a huge bundle of parsley, the last thing in the wagon, she asked him

yet one other service. Would you be so kind as to watch my merchandise while I put up my horse? I have only two steps to go. Just round the corner to the Compadour in the Rue Mont-Argue. He assured her that she might make her mind easy. He had his leave stay there as not until her return. The fact was that he preferred to stay still, for hunger began to nod his vitals the moment he moved.

He sat down and leaned against a pile of cabbages, telling her she might be as long as she pleased. His head was dizzy, and he did not feel quite certain where he was. As soon as September comes, the early morning is dark, and lanterns were moving about, held in invisible hands. He was at the end of a wide street, with which he was perfectly unfamiliar. ten steps away was all thick darkness and he could see no farther than the merchandise over which he was keeping guard confused gray masses occupied the centre of the street and he heard the sound of cattle moving and breathing loud

a quiet imperative call the fall of a piece of wood on an iron chain on the stone pavement the dull thud of a wagon backed up against the curbstone filled the air with vague suggestions of a formidable awakening near at hand an awakening with which all the this darkness already shivered. Florent, turning his head, saw on the other side of the pile of cabbages, a man sound asleep, with his head on a basket of prunes. Nearer still was a lad of twelve curled up between two piles of chickory.

But he fixed his eyes in dull surprise on two gigantic covered sheds on either side the street, whose roof seemed to expand as he gazed. His mind slightly wandered, and he began to dream of an endless palace, light and airy. brilliantly illuminated.

He saw the slender pillars and the overhanging roof. He tried to count the succession of halls crowded with people. He turned his head aside, restless and uneasy, and suddenly beheld the illuminated clock face of St. Eustache and the grey mass of the church. He was excessively astonished at finding himself

in this locality. Madame Francois now appeared. She was disputing with a man who carried a sack on his shoulders, and wish to buy her carrots at one sous a bunch. But there is no sense in it like I. You will sell them again for four or five sous to the Parisians. You know that as well as I do.

You can have them for two sous if you say so. And as the man went away, she said, That is really too much. He won't find any carrots at a sous, but he is tipsy. There is no use in talking about him. He will be back soon enough, too. She was speaking to Florent, and then she took a seat by his side.

Tell me, she said, if you have been a long time away from Paris. For if you have, this market is new to you. The hal have been built not more than five years. All this building on your right is devoted to flowers and fruits. Next comes the fish and the poultry, and beyond the vegetables, cheese, butter, etc. There are six buildings on this side of the street,

and on the other four, tripe and meat and all that sort of thing. it is an enormous place and hideously cold in winter they say that there are two more divisions to be built and a number of houses to be torn down all the way from the wheat market you know where that is no answered floren i am quite a stranger but what is the name of this wide street just before us it is a new street la rue du pont-neuf which runs from the seine there is la rue montmartre and there is la rue montaurey she rose as she spoke seeing a woman leaning over her turnips good morning mother chant a mess she said in a friendly way floren looked at la rue montauregueuil it was there that he had been arrested by armed police of on the night of the 4th of December. He was walking along the street about two o'clock, feeling a certain contempt for all these soldiers

that the Elysset had sent forth, when all at once these soldiers swept the streets with the discharge of musketry. He himself fell at the corner of La Rivivienne. He knew no more. The crowd trampled upon him and the noise was deafening. When all was again silent,

he tried to rise to his feet again. The body of a young girl lay across him. she wore a rose-colored hat and her shawl had slipped off showing a muslin waist all tucks and inserting two musket balls had gone through her throat and when he lifted the poor thing his hands were drenched with blood then he rushed away mad with horror and wandered until night seeing nothing but this young girl with her pale face and her great blue eyes wide open in which she read a great surprise surprise at death coming to her so suddenly he was very timid and although thirty rarely looked into a woman's face and yet this one would haunt him all the rest of his life that evening without knowing how he got there he found himself at a wine-shop in the rue mont the men were all talking of erecting some barricades he went with them and assisted them in tearing up the paving-stones and then seated himself for he was weary with the excitement of the day he had not even a knife in his belt and his head was bare He bade his friends to tell him if the soldiers came as he was ready to do his share of fighting. About eleven o'clock, he fell asleep.

But his dreams were haunted by those blue eyes and the two round holes in that white throat. When he awoke, he was in the grasp of four-armed men. His friends had taken flight. The police wished to strangle him at once when they saw that he had blood on his hands. It was the blood of the blue-eyed girl. Florein absorbed in these recollections, watched the illuminated dial in the Tower of St. Eustache, but he saw neither figures nor hands. It was nearly four o'clock.

The hall was not yet well astir. Madame Chantamette still bargained with Madame Francois over the price of the turnips, and Florent recalled what he had seen in that very spot. Five dead bodies had lain there, five four fellows who had been taken at a barricade. in La Rue Granita. He had not been shot down at the same time and place, merely because the men who took him prisoner had swords instead of guns.

He was taken to a station nearby where his description was filed. Hands, covered with blood, when arrested, very dangerous. He was dragged from station to station, at each the same words were written down. He was handcuffed and treated as if he were a madman. At one place some tipsy saw,

soldiers wished to shoot him, but fortunately orders came that all prisoners should be carried before the prefect. The next day he was placed in a case-mate of the Farr de Bissaitre. That day he suffered from hunger for the first time in his life, and eagerly snatched the mouthfuls of food which were thrown into him as to a wild beast. When he appeared before the judge, without any testimony in his favor or counsel to defend him, he was accused of belonging to a secret society. And when he swore the this was not true, the judge, with a portentous frown, drew out the ominous bit of paper. Hands covered with blood, when arrested, very dangerous.

This was enough. He was tried and condemned at the end of six weeks. In January a jailer came to him in the middle of the night, and took him down to a courtyard where there were at least four hundred other prisoners. And in another hour, the first detachment of these were sent into exile, wearing handcuffs, and marching between two files of soldiers with loaded guns. They crossed the Pond of Stelitz, following the line of the boulevard and reached the Havre station. It was a gay and festive night of the carnival.

The windows of all the restaurants on the boulevard were blazing with lights, and near La Rue Vivienne, just where the dead girl had lain, Florence saw some masked women in a carriage, who were much disgusted at being detained by all these Forza, who would never get past. from Paris to Haver the prisoners had not a mouthful of bread nor a drop of water no rations had been distributed before they started

they were forgotten they had nothing to eat for 36 hours not until they were on board the frigate Canada as he looked back he could not remember that he had enough to eat once since then he was nothing but skin and bone and now he returned to Paris to find her rolling in abundance he had come back to her born upon a cart heaped high with vegetables that carnival night on which he had left paris had apparently lasted until now for seven long years and it seemed to him that all the glitter and prodigality of that night as he remembered it had blossomed out into this enormous market

mother chantamese decided to buy twelve bunches of turnips she held them in her apron and still stood talking when she at last departed Madame Francois went back and took a seat by Florence, saying, The poor old woman is over seventy. I was a child when she bought turnips of my father, and she has not a relative in the world, nor a soul to do a thing for her, except a girl if she has picked up somewhere. The old woman gets along somehow, though,

and even makes her forty sous per day. But dear me, I wonder how she can stay all the time in these Paris streets. They would kill me. And as Florent did not speak, she said, You have relations here, I suppose. He did not seem to hear her.

He was uneasy and suspicious. His head was full of stories of police agents and detectives watching at all the corners of the streets, of women selling the secrets they tore from certain poor devils. He looked at Madame Francois's kindly face, framed in a black and yellow handkerchief tied under her chin. She was apparently about 35, rather large, and masculine, but handsome, from her abundant health and out-of-doors life,

softened by the womanly tenderness which spoke from out her black eyes. She went on, not in the least offended by the silence of her companion. I have a nephew in Paris, but he has turned out badly. I suppose your parents will be surprised to see you. Ah, it is a nice thing to go home when one is sure of a welcome, is it not? She did not take her eyes from him as she spoke. She was compassionating his excessive. of thinness, but detecting a gentleman under his shabby clothing.

She did not dare to offer him the piece of silver which was burning her hand. At last she said timidly, If, in the meantime you should happen to want anything. But he refused with uneasy pride. He said he had all he needed, and that he knew where to go. She seemed quite pleased, and said over and over again, as if to reassure herself. Well, then, you have only to wait for daylight.

A great bell above Florein's head now began to ring with a slow and regular sound. Carts were rolling up. The shouts of the drivers and the snapping of their whips, the grinding of the gravel, beneath the wheels and the feet of the animals, momentarily increased. The wagons could now advance only a rod or two at a time, so great was the crowd. All along La Rue du Pont Neuf,

the cart stood against the sidewalk and were unloading. The horses with their heads close together. Florein took a special interest in an enormous load of cabbages on which shone a gas light bringing out the green of the large leaves looking like wrinkled velvet. A little peasant girl of sixteen

wearing a blue jacket and a close-fitting cap stood upright in the cart among the cabages and threw them one by one to some person standing in the shadow below. The girl was sometimes almost hidden among the verdure. Then her pretty rosy face peeped out again. She laughed and the cabbages recommends their flight between the gaslight and Florent. He counted them mechanically and was

sorry when the cart was empty. The vegetables were so arranged on the pavement that the vendors could circulate among them. The lights from the glancing lantern shone on a bundle of artichokes, on the delicate green of lettuce, the deep orange of the carrots, and the ivory whiteness of turnips. All these brilliant colors were repeated again and again until the whole ground was like a delicious mosaic. The crowd was like a delicious mosaic. The crowd was rapidly increasing. Customers were moving in every direction. A loud voice called,

Nice chickery, fresh chicory! The proprietors of the vegetable stalls, women with their white caps and fichuze nodded loosely and with their skirts pinned up carefully, were making their purchases which porters were carrying to the stalls. And there was much noisy disputing over a sou. Laurent was infinitely astonished at the calmness of these Hale countrywomen.

with their sunburned faces and madras handkerchiefs in the presence of these voluble parisians behind him was the fruit market rows of low shallow baskets stood covered with cloth or straw while an odor of overripe plums filled the air a low sweet voice compelled him to look around he saw a charmingly pretty woman small and dark bargaining with a man well then marcel will you sell them for a hundred sous the man made no reply and the young woman waited fully five minutes when she said a hundred soup for this basket and four francs for the other make nine that i owe you another silence what then am i to give you ten francs just as i told you and jules what have you done with him la sariette the woman laughed and said as she showed a handful of money bless your heart july is asleep he vows that men were not made to work She paid him and took the two baskets into the fruit market, which had just opened. Through its covered streets, a crowd was constantly passing, while, at the point Stoucestche, the bakers and proprietors of other small shops were just taking down their shutters, and their windows, lighted by gas, made little red spots among the grey houses.

Laurent looked to the left, way down the Rue-Mont-Augé, and saw the glossy brown loaves in the window, and fancied that he could even smell them. It was now half-past four. All this time, Madame Francois, was getting bit of her merchandise and had nothing left, but some bunches of carrots, when, like I, appeared again with her sack. Will you take a sous for them now? he asked. I was sure you would be back, answered the market woman quietly. You can have all that are left, only seventeen bunches.

That makes seventeen sous. No, thirty-four. They finally agreed on twenty-one. as Madame Francois was in a hurry to get away, and Lecay went off quite triumphant with his carrots in a sack. Old miser, she said de Flora. He always waits until the last sound of the bell to buy his four sous worth of stuff.

Ah, these Parisians, they bargained their eyes out for Toulogne and then go and drink up every sue they own at the first wine shop. When Madame Francois spoke of Paris, she was full of irony and contempt. She seemed to regard it as a most contemptible, as well as ridiculous city, in which she would not consent to spend a night. And now, she said, with a sigh of relief, as she again seated herself by Florent, Now I can go.

Florent looked away, for he had committed a theft. He had picked up a carrot and held it concealed in his hand. The parsley and celery emitted such fragrance that his hunger became unendurable. I am going away, repeated Madame Francois. She was interested in this stranger and was certain that he was suffering. She made him new proffers of assistance, but he refused them all with a certain sharpness in his voice. He rose to his feet to prove that he was quite able to go on his way,

and as she turned away her head, he put a piece of the carrot in his mouth. He held it there a moment, as she looked him once more in the face with several new questions. He nodded, and ate the carrot slowly. End of Chapter 1, Part 1. Chapter 1, Part 2 of the Markets of Paris by Emil Zola. This Librevox recording is in the public domain.

Despair and Hunger, Part 2. The market woman turned to depart when a full voice called out, Good morning, Madame Francois. It was a thin fellow who spoke. A thin fellow with a big head and big bones, a delicate nose, and small bright eyes. He wore a hat of black belt, shabby and out of shape. He was closely buttoned up in an immense overcoat, one slight chestnut and tint on which the rain had left huge greenish blotches.

Round-shouldered, and trembling in a nervous way that was probably habitual. He stood with his legs a little apart, his tout-laced shoes and blue stockings fully exposed to view by his very short pantaloons. "'Good morning, Monsieur Claude,' replied the market-woman gaily. "'I waited for you Monday, and as you did not. come, I took care of your canvas and fastened it up on my wall in my bedroom. You are very kind, Madame Francois. I will come some day and finish my sketch.

Monday it was impossible. Has your great prune tree put out all its leaves yet? Oh, yes, indeed. Well, then, I will put it in the corner of my picture. It will do well there next the poultry house. I have been thinking about it all the week. The vegetables are superb this morning. I got up early only to see the effect of the sunrise on these cabbages.

I am off, said the marketwoman. I hope to see you soon, Monsieur Claude. She hesitated and then added, presenting Florent to the young painter. Look here. This gentleman has just come back from a long journey and feels like a stranger in Paris. Give him some help, can't you? And she walked off quite content in leaving the two men together.

Claude looked at Florein with interest. His long oval face with its uncertain expression struck him as quite original. The market woman's introduction was quite enough, and with the ease of a person accustomed to all sorts of odd adventures and he said quietly, I will go with you, but where are you going? Florein was not altogether pleased, but one question had been on his lips for the last hour,

and he determined to risk it. He hastily said, does La Rue Pirouette still exist? To be sure, answered the painter. And a curious corner of old Paris it is, too, with its crooked turns and pot-bellied houses. I made a sketch there that was not very bad. When you come to my studio, I will show it to you.

Is that where you want to go? Florein, quite comforted by hearing that La Rue Pirouette still existed, said no, that he was not going there. All his distrust was awakened by clothes persistence, who answered gaily, Well, never mind, let us go all the same to La Rue Pireuette. Come, it is only two steps off. There was nothing to be said, and Florein was compelled to yield, and they strode off.

Along the sidewalk were gigantic piles of cauliflower arranged with surprising regularity. Their tender, green among the coarser outer leaves gave them the look of flowers, or of a succession of bridal bouquets. Clode stopped before them with a little exclamation of, admiration. A gaslight still burnt on the corner of La Rue Pirouette. The houses were precisely as the painter had described them, pot-bellied and elbowing each other, although some few were quite the contrary, and looked as if they were about to fall on their noses. The gas fell full on

one which was very white and fresh, as if it had recently been done up, while others were tottering and covered with green mold. Florein stood still at the corner of La Rue Mont d'etour, in front of the house next to the corner on the left. The three floors looked as if all the inhabitants were still sound asleep. The small white curtains were drawn clothes, while high up in an attic window a light came and went. But the shop on the lower floor seemed to cause Florent an extraordinary emotion. It was a place where only cooked vegetables were sold.

At the back bright tins glittered, and on the counter stood chicory and spinach smoking in small earthen dishes, where they were piled up in smooth hillocks. This sight seemed to astonish, Florent. He looked up at the name Good Boeuf on a red sign and stood aghast with the air of a man to whom some great misfortune has arrived. Meanwhile, the attic window was opened. A little old woman leaned out, looked at the sky,

then at the hall, and then into the distance. "'Hello!' "'Memoiselle Saget is early today,' said Claude, turning toward his companion. i once had an aunt living in that house which is a perfect nest for scandal ah the mehuduns are moving i see their lights on the second floor floren was about to ask a question but suddenly changed his mind for he did not feel quite easy each time he looked the little artist pull in the face he therefore listened while the other talked of the mehoudans they were fishwomen the oldest was superb the youngest looked like one of murillo's virgins calm and fair among her carp and her eels and then the little painter added angrily that murillo was not such a wonderful artist after all he suddenly stood still in the middle of the street Well, he asked, do you want to go to the very end?

I don't care where I go, said Florein. Lead on, I will follow. As they turned out of La Rue Pirouette, a voice called Clod from the depths of a wine shop in the corner. Claude went in, dragging Florent with him. The shutters were taken down from only one window, the gas was burning, and the air closed and stifling. A dirty towel and the cards of the previous evening lay forgotten on the table, fluttering in the breeze which came in at the open door and mingled with a stale odor of wine and tobacco.

The proprietor Le Biggre was waiting on his customers in his shirt-sleeves and with his big face white with sleep. Men were drinking at the counter, coughing and spitting, swallowing raw brandy with the hope of arousing themselves so their day's work. Florence saw La Caye, the man who had bargained for the carrots and was now discussing with a comrade the price of potatoes. When he had emptied his glass, he went into a small room at the back of the shop with Le Bigre. What will you take? said Claude de Florent.

The little painter had shaken hands, and he came in with the young man who had called him, a handsome young fellow of about twenty-two, wearing a moustache on his otherwise well-shaven face, which smiled from under the wide brim of a hat well-dusted with chalk. Claude called him Alexander, tapped him familiarly on the arm, and asked when they should go to Charantoneau, and they said something about a jolly boating party on which they had been together, and have a delicious rabbit stew they had enjoyed in the evening. Well, what will you take? repeated Claude. Laurent looked at the counter and summed out.

At one end were bowls of punch and hot wine kept hot over gas. He said he would take something warm. Monsieur Le Bigre handed over the counter three glasses of punch. A basket full of hot rolls stood on the counter. But as the other two men did not take any, Florent refrained, although he felt the hot punch fall into his empty stomach like so much melted lead. It was Alexander who paid.

A good fellow is this Alexander, said Claude when they left the wine shop. He is excellent company in the country. I never saw such a gymnast. His muscles are something extraordinary. He has posed for me naked several times in the open air. Now shall we take a turn through the hall? Florent followed him. At the end of La Rue Rambutou,

a bright light announced the coming of the day. The roar of the crowd in the market was constantly increasing. The two men turned into one of those covered streets between the fish and the poultry market. Florent lifted his eyes to the high roof with its crossed timbers of shining wood, and then as he looked about him, it seemed to him that he was in some big town

with its distinct cartier. its squares and its streets all put under a huge shed out of some whim on a rainy day there was a perfect forest of pillars and innumerable trellises of iron some of the divisions were as yet unoccupied although the gas was lighted throughout women were hurrying through the fish market and laying out their wares on the marble tables the hurry and noise was spreading from the poorer quarters where the cabbages were bought and sold at four o'clock in the morning to the stalls where pheasants and chickens were sold to the wealthy at eight o'clock all along the sidewalks were established petty market gardeners from the outskirts of the city with their bunches of vegetables and dainty baskets of fruit carts were constantly driving in under the vaulted roof two of these stood in such a way that florin was obliged to wait for them to move before he could pass and he saw the men take down heavy bags which were wet and smelt of sea-moss and contained shell-fish as did huge boxes with cross-bars of wood which were brought by the railroads daily from the ocean then came large yellow wagons with coloured lanterns laden with cheese eggs and butter clode was delighted with all this tumult he was transfixed by an effect of light on a group of men in blouses at last they struggled through all this confusion and found themselves in a quieter spot filled with delicious fragrance they were among cut flowers women were seated on either side of them with their square baskets full of roses violets and marguerites a lighted candle brought out a perfect melody of color the pale sweetness of the marguerite and the vivid crimson of the dahlias and the flesh-like tints of the roses there is nothing sweetened of the marguerite and the vivid crimson of the daeusas and the flesh-like tints of the roses there is nothing sweetened

or more spring-like than this odor of flowers coming to one after the smell of fish and the pestilential odor of cheese and butter. Claude and Florein loitered along among the flowers and stopped with some curiosity before the women who sold bundles of ferns and of vine leaves methodically bound together. Twenty-five in a bundle. Then they turned into another quiet street, which was almost deserted, where their steps resounded as in a church. They found there, harnessed to a wagon about as large as a wheel-bearer. the smallest donkey that was ever seen. The creature began to bray as soon as the two men came in sight and with such prolonged vigor that the vast roof of the hall fairly reverberated.

Horses neighed in response, and these sounds were repeated again and again until lost in the distance. Opposite was the Rueberger with its wide-open stalls heaped up with baskets and with fruit. Nearby stood a fiacre, in which they caught a glimpse of a lady-lawful. lounging in the corner, while her driver swore at the carts in which he found himself hopelessly entangled. "'It is Cinderella coming home without her slipper,' said Clod with a

smile. The two men talked a little as they lounged through the market. Clod, with his hands in his pockets, told how much he enjoyed seeing all this abundance which poured into Paris every morning. He said he never came without his imagination being filled with wonderful pictures of which he had yet begun only one. He had made a man. He had made a Marjolin and Cadine sit for him, but the deuce of it all was that these vegetables, fruits, meat and fish, were mighty hard things to paint. Florent listened while the pangs of hunger were devouring him to this enthusiasm. It was plain that Claude at this moment did not think of these things as edible.

He liked them for their beauty and color. Clodes suddenly stopped and tightened in a way that was common with him, the wide leather belt he wore under his old overcoat and said, knowing air. Sometimes my only breakfast is through my eyes, and when I have neglected to dine the evening before, this sort of breakfast does not agree with me. He then went on to describe a supper for which a friend had once paid at Barat's. They had had oysters, fish, and game, but Barat had come to grief.

He and the old Marche des Innocent were done for together. This vast hal was a very poor substitute for the past. Florent did not know whether or not. the artist most regretted the loss of what was picturesque, or the good cheer that once was to be got at Barat's. Clod was now launched. He delivered a fiery of attuporation of all the old masters.

His cabbages, he declared, were better than all their dingy rags. He ended by accusing himself of miserable mannerism in the study he had made of La Rue Pirouette. "'I tell you,' he said, "'a man should paint what he sees and as he sees it. "'Now look there,' he continued, is not that a better picture than their consumpt of saints?

Women were selling coffee and soup. A small crowd of customers had gathered around a large kettle of cabbage soup which smoked on a tiny brazier. The woman, armed with a long ladle, first put into a yellow bowl thin slices of bread, which she took from a basket covered with a napkin and then filled up the bowl with soup. There were clean market gardeners in blouses,

dirty porters with their shoulders soiled by the burthens they had carried. poor devils and rags. In short, all sorts of persons, eating their breakfast and scalding themselves with the hot soup. The painter was delighted and half-shut his eyes to compose his picture. But the smell of the cabbage soup was terribly strong. Florent turned away his head.

The sight of the appetizing bowls made him dizzy, and even Clode was affected. He tightened his belt with a smile, but he was a little vexed, and walked on, saying as he did so, in a low voice to Florein. It is very funny, but did you ever notice that there are always plenty of people ready to pay for a drink for you? But no one ever thinks of such a thing as paying for your food.

It was now dawn. At the end of La Rue de la Cossonerie, the houses in the boulevard Sebastopol were black, and above their slated roof stretched a line of light. Claude was looking up with his eyes fixed on a roof over his head. "'What are you looking for?' asked Florein. "'For that devil of a Margellain,' answered the painter. "'I need him for a study. "'He is certainly up there unless he has seen fit to spend the night in a cellar with the poultry.'

And he went on to say how his friend Margeolin always lived about the market, of which he knew every nook and corner. He and that little scamp of a cadine, who Mother Chantames had picked up one night in the old Marche des Innocent. He was a splendid great fellow with a redneck. ruddy beard which would have gladdened the heart of Rubens, while she was a tiny creature with a quaint little face and bright eyes under a wilderness of curly hair. Claude, as he talked, increased his pace.

He led his companion to the Point St. Justach, where he dropped on a bench near the omnibus station. A ray of lights suffused the eastern sky, which overhead was somber and gray, and the air had such aromatic freshness that Florent could fancy himself on a hillside in the country. Clode pointed out to him the secret of this odor. Thyme and lavender, sweet marjoram, and basil were all around him, done up in bundles ready for sale. The illuminated dial of St. Eustache was slowly fading, while in the wine-shops the gas-burners were being extinguished one by one.

And Floreau washed the hall emerge from the shadow, stretching their endless length before him, and when the daylight brought them entirely into view, they struck him as a wonderful machine. the result of modern ingenuity. A gigantic cauldron made of wood, metal, and glass. Claude stood upon a bench and insisted on his companion admiring the light as it streamed over the vegetables, bringing out all their rich tints in varied shades of green. The cabbages alone were a study for an artist. Enormous white cabbages, hard and compact, as if made of metal.

Curled cabbages with leaves like bronze. Red cabbages with streaks of rich peaches. purple and crimson. In the distance, the opening to La Rue Rambuto was barred by a barricade of orange-colored pumpkins, and the glossy reddish-brown of a basket of onions, the vivid red of a pile of tomatoes, the yellowish tone of a quantity of cucumbers, the sombre violet of the eggplants delighted the heart of the artist, who called these vegetables simply sublime. Meanwhile, the crowd of white caps and blue blouses filled the narrow paths. Portors lifted their burthens high above their heads. There was a soldier and several nuns buying cabbages, and stout

cooks were peering about in search of bargains, and the carts were still roaring up the street. "'Is it not magnificent?' cried Claude. But Florent was in an agony of pain. He looked up at St. Eustache, of which he saw the sides, like sepia tracings against the blue sky. He saw the beautiful windows, the bell-tower, and the slated roof. He caught the gleam of gold-lettered signs in La Rue Montmartre, down which workmen in white blouses with their tools under their arms were hurrying. Claude was still standing on the bench. Suddenly he beheld in the crowd ahead he knew.

Ah, Marjolet, Cadine, he cried. His voice was lost in the uproar and he jumped down to follow his friends, but, suddenly remembering Flore, he said, quickly, "'He will find me in the impasse des Bordone. My name is on the door. Claude Lancier, Come and see my sketch of La Rue Pirouette. He disappeared.

He did not know Florence's name. He left him, as he had taken him, on the curbstone, having explained his artistic preferences. Floreau was now alone. At first he was glad of it. Since Madame Francois had picked him up in the Avenue de Neuilly,

he had been simply half awake, and yet in such pain that he had hardly known what he was doing. At last he was free, and he tried to rid himself of the intolerable and heavy dream of mountains of food by which he felt himself pursued. But his head had a strangely empty feeling. He was a little afraid withal, for he could now be seen. His clothing was lamentable. He buttoned up his coat, brushed his pantaloons, fearing that their very dust would betray whence he came. He was seated by the side of several other poor devils on a bench which was kept in view by several policemen who were walking up and down.

Florein fancied that they knew him and were about to arrest him. He felt a mad desire to run, but he did not dare to move, nor had he the smallest idea where he should go. But he felt that he could no longer endure this cold examination of these men and left the bench, not hurriedly but as quietly as possible, feeling in imagination rough hands laid upon his collar. He had but one desire now, and that was to get away from Les Hall. But the streets were all so crowded that he did not know which to take. Wherever he turned, his path was encumbered by the vegetables, while the pavement was slippery with the leaves of artichokes and lettuce.

He heard the noise from the hall. It was like a great central organ furiously beating, throwing the blood of life through all its veins. He went into a quiet covered street at the left, which he had previously noticed as especially quiet. But it was now as noisy and bustling as the others. He went to the very end where he found cages of living poultry and baskets of dressed bowels. On the opposite sidewalk were carts discharging whole calves and calves in quarters,

sheep and quarters of beef. Butchers with white aprons were weighing and cutting up the meat. He looked at them with wild, hungry eyes. He passed the stall where tripe was sold, and the feet and heads of calves, with the brains delicately placed in flat baskets, sweetbreads and kittles and kittles. knees. Florin, with sullen rage in his heart, turned away from this place. His teeth chattered, and he was afraid he should fall on the ground, and be picked up and carried off by the police. He stopped and leaned against a tree with his eyes closed and a strange

buzzing in his ears. The raw carrot he had swallowed gripped his stomach and the glass of punch intoxicated him. He was drunk with despair, fatigue, and hunger. A great fire burned within his breast. He pressed his two hands upon it, as if to stop a hole through which his life was ebbing. The sidewalk upheaved under his feet when he tried once more to walk. He staggered, and finally, in a stupor,

allowed himself to be pushed first in one direction and then in another. He was now ready to beg and angry with himself at his foolish pride in rejecting the arms offered by Madame Francois, and he was vexed also that he had not asked the painter to give him something for now there was no one to whom he could turn. He was left there like a lost dog.

He looked toward the hall once more. They were now bright with the blaze of the rising sun. The zinc roof reflected the light. Blinded and dizzy, he wondered if he were to die in the face of all this plenty. Hot tears stood in his eyes. Two women now passed him, a little old woman and a taller one.

And you come yourself. to market, Mademoiselle Sajet? asked the taller and younger of the two. Oh, Madame Lecaire, my marketing is nothing. You know what one woman lives on is nothing. I wanted a little cauliflower, but they are so dear. And butter. How much do they ask for today? Thirty-four sous. I have some very good. Suppose you try some. I don't know. I have a little on hand. "'Flore made a great effort and followed these women. "'He remembered that he had heard the smaller one mentioned by Claude

"'and said to himself that he would speak to her as soon as she was alone. "'And your niece?' asked Mademoiselle Sajet. "'Hasierre has her own way,' answered Madame Lacquerre sharply. "'The day will come that she will turn to me for a mouthful of bread, "'but she will ask in vain.' "'You were very good to her always. "'She ought to make money for fruit. are very advantageous this year, and your brother-in-law?'

"'Oh, he—' Madame Lecoeur pinched up her lips and seemed determined to say no more. "'Always the same, I suppose,' continued Mademoiselle Sajet, but he is a good man, after all, though it is a pity that he waste his money in such a way. "'How does he waste his money?' answered Madame Lecoeur, fiercely. "'He is a miser, I tell you, and a thief, too. He would let me starve, than give me a five-franc piece. He knows perfectly well that I have made no money this year, while he has sold all the poultry he could get hold of, but he has never once offered me the smallest assistance. Not that I would have accepted it, you understand. Ah, here he comes, said

Mademoiselle Sajé, lowering her voice. The two women turned and looked at a man who was crossing the street. I am in a hurry, said Madame Lacourre. I left my stall without anyone, and besides, I do not wish to speak to him. Florent looked around mechanically. He saw a small, squarely-built man with rather a happy face, holding under each arm of fat goose. He started, looked again,

and started in pursuit of this man. When he reached him, he touched him on his shoulder. Gavard, he said. The other looked up in some surprise at this long black figure which accosted him. Then he uttered a stifled exclamation. You! He cried,

You hear! He nearly let his fat geese slip from his grasp, but seeing his sister and Mademoiselle Sagette watching this meeting with evident curiosity, he walked on, saying, Do not stop here, there are too many eyes and ears. They found a quiet corner and talked. Florence said he had been to the rue Pirouette.

Gavar thought this very queer. He laughed and said that Kenu had moved and opened his pork shop in the rue Rambutteau opposite the half, He was still more amused when he discovered that Florenton had been all the morning with Claude Lantier, a droll sort of fellow who was, moreover, the nephew of Madame Canu. He would show Flore where the pork shop was. But when Gavar found that his friend had returned to Paris with forged papers, he shook his head with an air of grave disapproval.

He insisted on going a little in front as they walked that they might not attract attention. He passed his stall and hung up his two fat geese. and still followed by Florent, he crossed the Rue Rambuto where he pointed to a showy pork-shop, past which the army of street sweepers were just moving with regular strokes of their brooms. The pork-shop was almost on the corner of La Rue Pirouette. It was a pleasure to look at, being so bright and clean. The sign on which was the name Kenugradel in long gilt letters on a pale blue ground was worthy of being covered with glass.

Cupid's sported amid wreaths of sausages and piles of cutlets. The window was a mass of green. Each plate was surrounded by parsley and celery. In the background were jars of pickles and pots of mustard. There were hams and tongues and pigs' feet, black puddings and force meat balls, sausages and patets, hams in jelly, and large patas. There were truffles and mushrooms. There were boxes of tony fish and sardines.

a box of rich nefchatelle cheeses in one corner and in the other fat little snails lay among parsley on the rear shelf of this chapel consecrated to the stomach between two tall bouquets of purple gladioli was a square aquarium wherein two goldfish were disporting florence shivered he saw a woman standing in the doorway she gave another touch of beauty to all this solid comfort she was a beautiful woman full but not too stout in all the maturity of her 30 years. She had just risen, and her shining hair was smooth and massive. Her flesh had that transparent whiteness, that delicacy common to the skin of persons who live on buttermilk and fat meat. She was grave and serious in expression. Her stiff linen collar lay smooth about her throat.

Her white sleeves came up to her elbows, and her white apron down nearly to her shoes, leaving only the extreme edge of her black dress to be seen and its tight-fitting waist. She stood bathed in the sunshine, drinking in the beauty of the morning. She had a look of great kindliness. That is your brother's wife,

your sister-in-law, Lisa, said Gavard to Florent. He nodded to the woman as he spoke, then turned into an alley, taking the most preposterous precautions, although the shop was empty, and was evidently delighted to be concerned in an adventure which he regarded as somewhat compromising.

"'Wait,' he said, "'I'm going to see if your brother is alone.' "'You must not go in until I clap my hands.' He pushed a door open in the alley, but when Florent heard his brother's voice, he could restrain himself no longer, but rushed in. Kenu, who adored him, advanced with open arms. They embraced each other as if they had been children.

"'Ah!' stammered Kenu, "'and I thought you dead. Only just now I was saying to Lisa that poor Floreen He stopped and put his head into the shop. Lisa, Lisa! Then turning to a little girl in the corner, he said, Pauline, go ask your mother to come here. But the child did not move.

She was a magnificent little creature about five years old and looking very much like her mother. She held tight in her plump little arms an enormous yellow cat, as if afraid that this shabby newcomer would steal her treasure. Lisa came with slow and stately step. "'It is Florein, my brother,' said Kenu. She called him, Monsieur, and was very cordial.

She examined him, frankly, from head to foot, but evinced no unkind surprise. Her lips were, however, slightly compressed, but they finally parted in a smile as she witnessed her husband's ecstasy of delight. But he suddenly became grave, seeming to realize Florene's careworn aspect and his excessive thinness. "'Ah, my poor dear boy,' he said, you have not grown fat now look at me he was fat certainly too fat for his thirty years he seemed to be bursting out of his shirt and the great white apron in which he was swathed his well-shorn face had gained a certain resemblance to that of a pig in the flesh of which animals's hands were busy all day long floren would hardly have recognized him he seated himself and looked from his brother to lisa and then to little

they were all in riotous health and gazed at him with all the astonishment of stout persons at excessive thinness the very cat winked her yellow eyes and examined him with evident distrust will you wait a while for breakfast Canu or will you have something now our hour is ten Florent thought of the terrible night he had passed of his agony and of the incessant sight of the abundance of which he could not partake and said in a low voice with a sweet smile I am very hungry end of chapter one chapter two of the markets of Paris by Emil Zoula this Librevox recording is in the public domain chapter two the miser's treasure Part 1 Florein had just begun the study of law in Paris

when his mother died. She lived at Vigant in La Garre. She had married a second time a Normand, a connue of Yotto, whom a sub-prefect had brought and forgotten in the south. He remained at the prefecture finding the country charming,

the wine good, and the woman kind. An indigestion three years after his marriage carried him off, and he left to his wife a stout boy much like himself, but not a saint. Sue. The mother was then paying with great difficulty her son Florence's way in college. He was the child of her first marriage and gave her great satisfaction. He was very industrious and

ambitious and carried off all the prizes. It was on him that she concentrated all her tenderness and all her hopes. Perhaps she had preferred her first husband, perhaps Kunu, whose good humor had first charmed her, was too much absorbed in himself. She, at all events, made up her mind that a youngest boy would never amount to much. She contended herself with sending him to school to an old woman in the neighborhood where the child learned a little, or nothing. The two brothers grew up far from each other

and almost as strangers. When Florein arrived at Vigant, his mother was buried. She had concealed her illness as long as possible that she might not disturb him at his studies. He found little Kenu, then about twelve, sobbing in the kitchen. A neighbor told him all the melancholy detail.

his mother had literally killed herself with work that her son might pursue his studies. To her little shop where she sold ribbons, she added other toil which kept her up early and late. The fixed idea of seeing Florent a lawyer rendered her hard, exacting and pitiless toward herself and others. Little Kenu went about with ragged clothing and never dared help himself at table. His mother always cut his bread for him and cut it very thin too. It was to this regime that she had succumbed with immense despair at leaving her task incomplete. The history made a terrible impression on the tender nature of Florent. His tears choked him.

He took his young brother in his arms and kissed him, as if to assure him of the affection with which he should always regard him. He looked at the little fellow's shoes and holes, jacket and rags, and at his generally neglected air, and told him that he was to go with him and that they would be happy together. the next day he found that he had not money enough to return to paris but was determined not to remain at vigin he therefore gladly sold out the little ribbon-shop which enabled him to pay his mother's small debts and the neighbor offered him five hundred francs for the linen and entire household possessions of the deceased the neighbor made a good bargain but the young man thanked him with tears in his eyes and that evening dressed his brother in new garments He was compelled to give up his law studies for the time, and on his return to Paris established himself with Kunu in La Rue Roye Collar in a large room,

which he furnished with two iron beds, a wardrobe, and four chairs. He regarded his brother as his child, and at first, when he came home in the evenings, attempted to teach the child. But the lessons did no good. The boy absolutely refused to learn anything, sobbed and wished his mother were back, and he could play in the streets all day long. Florein in despair gave up the lessons,

consoled him, and promised an indefinite vacation. And to excuse his weakness in his own eyes, he said to himself that he had taken the child only to make him happy. This was Florent's rule of conduct now. To sacrifice everything that Kenu might be happy. The elder brother absolutely adored the younger, bashed in his smiles and laughed when he laughed

and enjoyed the boys growing up with no care or fear for the future. flora had a few scholars but the task of teaching wore heavily upon him he grew thinner and thinner each day while connue was as plump as a partridge hen barely knew how to read and write but with a good nature which filled with gaiety that old room in la rue years went on floren who had inherited from his mother the spirit of self-sacrifice cherished connue as if he had been a great indolent girl he even avoided imposing on him any of their small household cares it was he who went out for their provisions he who cooked them and he who kept the room clean it takes me out of myself said floren who was very gloomy at times when he came in at night body and mind utterly weary hating the children he had been teaching he was touched by the joy of this big boy whom he generally found playing top in the centre of the floor keanu laughed at his awkwardness in making an omelet and at the solemnity with which he prepared the pot-o-feu when the lamp was out and floren lay in his bed he was at times very sad he was very anxious to resume his law studies and was trying to arrange his time so that he could follow the course prescribed by the faculty when he at last succeeded in doing this he was very happy but a low fever which kept him ten days in the house was such a drain on his small resources

and made him so very anxious that he gave up all idea of finishing his studies his child was growing up and was to be established he succeeded in obtaining a position as professor in a boarding school in la rue de lestrapade with a salary of eighteen hundred francs which to him was a fortune with economy he could put aside to establish kenu whom at eighteen he treated as if he were a sister or a daughter for whom a dowry was to be laid aside during his brother short illness, Kenu had made his own little reflections, and one morning announced that he wished to work, that he was old enough to earn his own bread. Flourin was profoundly touched. Opposite their room on the other side of the street

was a clockmaker whom the boy had found a special fascination in watching, seeing him bending over his little table, handling delicate tools, and toiling patiently all day long. Kenu therefore declared that this was what he liked. But at the end of a fortnight, he was in despair, wept bitter tears, and said he could never learn the trade nor remember

the thousand nonsensical things in a watch. He preferred to be a locksmith. But this, he found too fatiguing. In two years, he had tried ten trades. Florent agreed to all he said, and would not allow him to stick to anything he did not like. Unfortunately, this beautiful devotion on the part of and his desire to earn his bread was rather an expensive thing. While he was going from place to place, there were new and unforeseen expenses constantly occurring. Laurence's salary no longer sufficed them, and he was compelled to take several pupils in the evening. He wore the same overcoat for eight years. The two brothers had made a friend.

The house in which they lived had a façade on La Rue Saint-Jacques, and overlooked a great cook-shop, kept by a man named Gavar, whose wife, was dying of consumption. When Florein came in, too late to cook a bit of meat, he bought a morsel of turkey or of roast goose for twelve sous. This was a great feast. Gavar at last became much interested in this tall, thin fellow whose history he soon learned. He took a fancy to Kenu who fairly haunted the cook shop. As soon as his brother left home, he hastened to his friend and remained there all day, watching the huge spits turn slowly before the clear fire. The copper sauce pans glittered. The poultry smoked. The lard bubbled in the frying pans,

and each spoke to Canu as he, with a long-handled spoon in his hand, basted the brown breasts of the geese and the turkeys. Then when the fowls were cooked to a turn and taken from the spit, and the skewers drawn out, the boy looked on in ecstasy, talking to the turkeys, telling them that they smelled deliciously, and that they should be eaten, every mouthful, and that the cat should not have even a bone. he was perfectly happy when gavar gave him a slice of bread and permission to dip it into the gravy this place was unquestionably where cuny took his fancy for cooking and later after he had tried all trades he came back to that he was afraid that his brother would be displeased as he had rather a contempt for the good things of the table but finding that floren listened patiently while he described some complicated dish he summoned courage to announce his vocation and soon entered the restaurant from that time the life of the two brothers was settled they lived together in the same large room that is they met there each evening and parted again in the morning one with his face gay and bright the other with the downcast look of an overworked professor floren carefully laid aside his black coat while connue put on his apron

his white jacket and tall cap, and busied himself about the fire in the preparation of some dainty. Never was a menage on more congenial footing. The elder brother continued to grow thin, burned out by the energy of his father. The younger grew plumber and plumber, a true son of Normandy.

They loved in each other their common mother, that woman who was made up of unselfish tenderness. They had in Paris one relative, a brother of their mother, a pork vendor in the Cartieres-de-Hall. He was a coarse miserly fellow who received them as if they were beggars, when they first called upon him, and they repeated their visits only at rare intervals. On the birthday of the old man, Cunu carried him a bouquet and received ten sous. Florence suffered tortures, while Gadell, for this was the name of the uncle,

examined his threadbare overcoat with the uneasy suspicious look of a man who expects to be asked for a loan of five francs. Florein had the simplicity one day to ask his uncle to change a hundred-franc note, and after this, his uncle was less afraid to see the children, as he called them, come in. But their friendship advanced, but slowly.

These years were to Floreen a long dream, a dream that was both sweet and sad. He tasted all the bitter pleasure of self-immolation. At home he was beloved, outside among his pupils, where he was subjected, to a thousand humiliations, he felt himself becoming embittered and thoroughly wicked. His ambition, which he thought dead, leaped again into life.

Long months of discipline were needed, before he could bow his head and accept poverty and mediocrity. Eager to escape temptation, he threw himself into an ideal goodness, and created for himself a refuge of justice and absolute truth. It was then he became a Republican, as despairing girls become nuns. and as he could find no republic which would drown his woes he created one books no longer charmed him all that blackened paper in the midst of which he lived recalled to him his ill-smelling classroom the chewed paper balls flung about by the boys and long wearisome hours books only spoke to him of revolt and awakened his ambition and pride while he felt the most imperative need of peace and rest to dream of happiness and of the realization of his dreams was his one recreation the occupation of his leisure hours he read no more than was demanded by the duties of his profession he took long walks through the outer boulevards devising all the time certain measures and humanitarian devices which would change this suffering town into a city of the blest when the days of february steeped paris in blood he rushed about and became one of those orators who preach revolution

as if it were a new religion, all sweetness and redemption. It needed the dark December days to change this universal tenderness. He allowed himself to be taken with the spirit of a lamb and was treated like a wolf. When he awoke from a dream of a sermon on fraternity, he was suffering the pangs of hunger on the cold stones of a casemate at Bissetre. Knew, who was then 22, was filled with mortal anguish when his brother did not return, and the next morning went to the Montmouth Cemetery to look for him among the dead,

who were covered with straw, all but their heads. He was blinded by tears at this horrible sight. At the end of a week he heard that his brother was a prisoner, but he could not see him. On his persisting he was threatened with arrest himself. He then went to find Uncle Gradle and implored him to save Florent. But Uncle Gradle flew into a passion and declared that it served the fellow right.

He had no business to get mixed up with those Republicans, and added that he always knew that Florent would turn out badly, for it was written on his face. Kenu wept his eyes out and would not go away. His uncle was a little ashamed then, and felt as if he must do something for this poor boy, and proposed that he should come to him. He needed an assistant.

Canoe dreaded to return to his great empty room and accepted the offer made by, his uncle. He slept in a little dark closet where he could hardly stretch himself out, but he wept less than he would have done had his brother's empty beds stared him in the face. He succeeded finally in seeing Florein, but on returning from his first visit to Bessetre, he was taken ill and was kept in bed for three weeks. This was his first and only attack of illness. Gradel cursed his Republican nephew in his heart, and when he one morning heard that he had sent to Cayenne, he rushed to

Kenu, awoke him roughly, to convey this intelligence, which had such an effect on the young man that the next day he was on his feet. A month later, and he laughed, though angry with himself that he did so, but after a little he laughed as of yore. He learned

all the art of cooking pork. He liked nothing better than to be in the kitchen. Uncle Gradle told him that few cooks knew how to manage pork, and that he could teach him many a secret. as the young man was really useful to him Gradle began to like him after his own fashion

he sold the poor furniture of La Rue Roye Collar for 40 francs and kept the money for he said that spend drift Canu would only throw it out of the window he ended by giving him six francs each month for pocket money Canu cramped for money and almost brutalized was very happy for he had made a friend at his uncle Gradle's who when he lost his wife had in engaged a girl to assist at the counter.

He selected one that was good-looking, knowing that his choice would be another attraction to his shop. He knew, in La Rue Cuvier, near the Gardin des Plante, a widow lady whose husband had been postmaster at Plaisand. This lady, who lived upon a very small income, had brought from that town a pretty child whom she treated like her own daughter. Lisa took care of her adopted mother with calm serenity. If she were a little too serious, she was very very serious. very beautiful when she smiled. Her great charm was in this rare smile. Then her very look was a caress. The old lady often said that a smile from Lisa would tempt her to follow her to the infernal regions. When an attack of asthma carried her off, she left to the child of her adoption all her

savings, about ten thousand francs. Lisa was a week alone in the little apartment in La Rueuvier, and it was there that Gradel went to look for her. He knew her for her for her. He knew her from having seen her when the lady with whom she resided paid him an occasional visit. At the funeral he was quite struck by her beauty, and, as they were lowering the coffin, it suddenly occurred to him that she would be quite superb behind his counter. He went a week later to make her an offer. He promised her 30 francs a month with board.

She asked for 24 hours for consideration, and at the end of that time she arrived with her little bundle and her 10,000 francs sewed into her corset. A month later she ruled the house. Gredel, Kenuian, the smallest of the Scullions. Knew in particular would have cut off his fingers for her. Lisa, who was the eldest child of a Macaugh at Placant, had a father living, but she never heard from him.

She mentioned more than once that her mother, when living, had been a hard-working woman and that she was like her. She was indeed very industrious. She talked, too, of the duties of a wife and of a husband in such a sensible way, that Knew was quite charmed. He told her he had precisely the same ideas, which were, simply, that everybody ought to work, that each individual has his happiness in his own hands.

That to encourage idleness is to encourage sin. This was an out-and-out condemnation of drunkenness, the besetting sin of the old Macaar. Unknown to herself, it was a real Macaar that spoke in her, a reasonable, logical, settled Macal, who had found out the best way to see comfortably is to make one's own bed. She gave to this consideration much time and much thought. When she was only six years old, she would sit still the whole day long on the promise of being

rewarded by a cake at night. At Gradel's, Lisa continued to live her calm, methodical life. She had not accepted the good man's proposition without mature deliberation. She needed a home and a protector, and felt certain that a future would be open to her. a solid, comfortable future, a life of healthy enjoyment and regular work without fatigue or responsibility. She took care of her counter in the conscientious way

in which she had discharged all her duties at the postmaster's widow. Before long, the cleanliness and whiteness of Lisa's aprons were a proverb in the cartier. Uncle Gradle was so pleased that he said sometimes to Kenu as he chopped his sausages.

Upon my word, if I were not over sixty, I would marry that girl. A woman like that, my boy, is worth a fortune in trade. Can you drank all this in, but he laughed, nevertheless, one fine day,

when a neighbor accused him of being in love with Lisa. They were very good friends. The girl occupied, next to the closet where the youth slept, a room which she had made very pretty, with the light paper and muslin curtains. They stood on the landing

talking a few minutes, and then parted with a cheerful good-night. Canoe heard Lisa moving, about. The partition wall was so thin that he could hear every sound. And when he heard the bed crack after she had put out her candle, he said to himself, "'Memoiselle Lisa is not a feather by any means.' This went on for a year. In the morning the girl would greet the young man without the smallest embarrassment and would often help him in his work. They would each taste the sausages to ascertain if they were highly enough seasoned. Her judgment was good, and she had several excellent receipts from the

south, which he tried with great success. In the afternoons, when there were no customers in the shop, they talked quietly together. She sat behind her counter-knitting, and he on a log of wood nearby. The two understood each other to perfection. They talked a little of cooking, then of Uncle Gradle, and exchanged a little harmless gossip about the Cartier. She told him stories as she would to a child. She knew any quantity, and wonderful legends also, full of

of lambs and angels, which she repeated in a sweet flute-like voice and with her solemn little manner. At eleven o'clock they lighted their candles and marched upstairs side by side. At the doors of their rooms they would stop. Good night, Mademoiselle Lisa. Good night, Monsieur Canu. One morning, Uncle Gradle was struck down by an apoplectic fit while preparing a Galantine. Lisa did not lose herself possession. She said he must not lie there in the middle of the kitchen. Then she stated to everyone that the uncle had died in his bed, where she and Kenu laid him. Had the truth been known, their customers would have been disgusted and left them. K'Neubed all her instructions in a dull stupor. Later, he and Lisa wept together.

He was the sole heir, he and his brother, Florent. The gossips in the neighborhood looked on old Gradel as a man of wealth, but the truth was that not a silver piece could they find. Lisa was very uneasy. Keneu saw her looking about as if she had lost something. Finally, she decided on a grand cleaning. One afternoon she had been in the cellar for a couple of hours and came up with something in her apron.

Knoe was busy, and she waited until he had finished what he was doing, and talked with him in an indifferent tone, but her eyes were very bright. She smiled her rare smile and said she wished to speak to him. She climbed the staircase with difficulty, her movements hampered by the burden she carried in her apron. At the top she was obliged to sit down and breathe. Cune, in considerable astonishment, followed her into her room. It was the first time he had ever crossed the threshold.

She closed the door, and, dropping the corners of her apron, which her stiffened fingers could no longer hold, she let fall on her bed a perfect rain of gold and silver. She had found in the bottom of a salting tub Uncle Gradle's treasure. The two young people sat down on the bed and looked at this pile which they began to count. There were 40,000 francs in gold,

3,000 in silver, and shut up in a tin box, 42,000 in banknotes. They were two good hours in making this calculation. Canoe's hands trembled, but Lisa was perfectly calm when they named the sum total. total eighty-five thousand francs naturally they began to talk of their future and of their

marriage though there had never been any allusion made to it before this money seemed to untie their tongues and they sat talking until dusk when Lisa started and blushed the bed was all in disorder the gold lay heaped on the pillow between them they started up in as much confusion as if they had committed some great fault then Lisa got her 10,000 francs which Cunieu wished to add to his uncle's money. It was agreed that Lisa should keep it all together for a while in her wardrobe. She locked it up, straightened out the bed, and the two went quietly downstairs. They were exactly like husband and wife with their common interests.

The marriage took place the next month, and the Kertz thought it was the most natural thing in the world. There was a vague rumor of the finding of the treasure, and Lisa's honesty was a subject of endless eulogy. After all, she need never have told Cunieu. She could have kept the money as no one had seen it. Of course, Cunou ought to marry her. He was a lucky dog to be sure, to have such a handsome wife, and one, too, who had found a fortune for him. Lisa smiled when she heard any of these whispers. She and her husband lived much as they had done before, like two friends, rather than as married lovers. Lisa, however, was too until

and a woman not to understand the folly of allowing these 85,000 francs to rest quietly in the drawer of her wardrobe. Kunu would have liked to put them back into the salting tub, and, when they had made as much more, retired to Surin, a place they both liked. But she had very different ideas. La Rue Pirouette was offensive to her ideas of cleanliness. She wanted air, sunshine, and light. The shop where Uncle Gradle had amassed this treasure, Sue by Sue, was a dark hole, so to speak, of which many are to be found in old Paris, permeated with a smell of grease and cooking, in spite of all the soap and water which may be lavished upon them. And Lisa dreamed of one of the modern shops with large panes of glass. She had no desire to play the lady

behind the counter. She had a very clear idea of the duties of the position she wished to undertake. Canu was much startled the first time she spoke of moving and spending a portion of their money in decorating a shop. She shrugged her shoulders with a smile. One evening at twilight, before the shop was lighted, the husband and wife heard one woman say to another before their door, No, indeed, I will not go there. I would not buy an inch of black pudding of them.

They had had a death in their kitchen. Conew was ready to weep, for this was a sorry bit of intelligence to get about. This it was, in fact, which finally reconciled him to the idea of moving. his wife at once occupied herself with the new shop. She had found one in an excellent situation. The Hall were opposite. Their custom would soon be quadrupled,

and their place would be known throughout Paris. Canu allowed himself to be drawn into mad expenditures and put thirty thousand francs into marble, mirrors, and gilding. Lisa spent hours with the workmen discussing the most trivial details. When at last all was completed, and she took her seat behind the counter, the whole world flocked in merely to see the shop. There was a large amount of white marble. There were huge mirrors and glittering chandeliers, suggesting an indefinite number of rooms, all filled with good things to eat.

On the right was a wide counter of white and pink marble, a repetition of the floor which had, in addition, a border in a wide pattern of deep red. The whole Cartier took pride in this pork shop, and for a month people stood still on the sidewalk to contemplate it and to catch a glimpse of Lisa her beautiful pink and white skin was as wonderful as the tints of the marble she was the master's spirit or rather the goddess the stately and solid idol of the shop and went by the name of la belle Lisa on the right of the entrance was the dining room always kept in the most delicate order with a buffet a table and cane-seeded chairs the inlaid floor and the paper on the walls, both pale yellow. The room was a little cold in tone, brightened as it was only by a brass-hanging lamp, with its porcelain shade over the center of the table.

A door from the dining room opened into the large square kitchen, at the end of which was a small, flagged courtyard, which served as a place to put pots and kettles which were past use, boxes and barrels. On the left of the fountain, and by the side of the gutter which carried off the dirty water were a few pots of flowers, withered and dying. Business prospered.

Knew, who had been considerably startled at the magnitude of his wife's ideas, ended by admitting her cleverness and wisdom. In five years they had a comfortable little sum of eighty thousand francs well invested. Lisa said they were not ambitious, that they were in no haste to grow rich. They were young still. They had plenty of time before them, and they wished to take their comfort as they went along. Now, added Lisa in an hour of expansion,

I have a cousin in Paris. I never see him. The two families are not on terms. He has taken the name of Saka, as he wanted certain things forgotten. Well, I am told that this cousin makes millions, but he is always in a hurry, hardly stops to eat his dinner.

I don't call that living. We know what we eat and we enjoy it. I can see no use in money except for what it buys. as to piling one pence on another i would sooner fold my arms and sit still i should like to see my cousin's millions though for i do not quite believe in them i saw him the other day in a carriage and he was as yellow as a lemon and looked perfectly overwhelmed with care of course this is his own affair but we think very differently end of chapter two part one chapter two part two of the markets of paris by emil zola This Librevox recording is in the public domain. The Miser's Treasure, Part 2. The house and shop both prospered.

One daughter was born a year after their marriage. Everything went smoothly, as Lisa was an excellent manager, and her system was perfect. Husband, wife, and child grew fat together. Cunieu alone had his hours of sadness when he thought of poor Florent. In 1856, letters came to him, then followed along. silence, and Kunu saw by the papers that three convicts had been drowned in attempting to make their escape from the Ild du D'Able. He applied to the head of police but could learn no further particulars. His brother was probably dead, and yet he cherished a gleam of hope.

Florein, who was wandering in Dutch Guiana, delayed writing as he determined each day to start on the next for France. Kunu at last made up his mind that his brother was dead. Lisa had never known Florein, but she listened kindly to all her husband had to say. She heard him describe for the hundredth time the room in La Rue Roye Coler, where the brothers had lived together, the innumerable trades he had tried, the dishes he cooked on the stove. She listened quietly, with infinite sympathy. It was amid these placid joys that Florent fell one September morning,

just as Lisa stood in the doorway, basking in the morning sun. husband and wife were thoroughly upset. Gavar insisted that the convict, as he called him, should be concealed at once. Lisa, paler and graver than usual, showed him to a room on the fifth floor. Kenu cut some slices of bread and ham, but Florent could hardly eat. He was utterly worn out, and remained in bed for nearly a week, with symptoms of brain fever which were energetically and successfully combated. When he was better, he saw the

Lisa at his bedside with a spoon and cup in her hand. He tried to thank her, but she gently bade him keep quiet, that he was not to talk at present. When at last he was able to leave his bed and his room, Kunu came up for him and took him downstairs where they occupied a small suite, consisting of three rooms and a closet. There was first an unfurnished room, then a small salon, the furniture of which was always shrouded in white draperies, but dimly seen, as the curtains were closely drawn that the light should not fade the pale blue of the walls. Then came the bedroom where they lived. This was comfortably furnished in mahogany. The bed was marvelous to behold with its fine mattresses, its fine pillows, and its either

downspread and the air of absolute sleepiness which hung over it. It was a bed in which it was impossible not to sleep. The armouare-glass, the toilette table, the crochet cover on a the chairs, protected by squares of Guipur, gave the place a look of bourgeois luxury. Against the wall on the left, on either side of the chimney-piece, which was ornamented with vases on brass stands, and with a clock, representing a Gutenberg, with his finger on his lip, buried in thought, were hung portraits and oil of Kenu and Lisa, in oval and highly ornamented frames. Kenu smiled. Lisa had quite a modus share. Both were in black, with very pink and white complexions. A moquette carpet, with complicated garlands of flowers, intermingled with golden

stars, concealed the polished floor. Before the bed lay one of those soft rugs made of rabbled carpet, the result of a patient laborer of La Belle Lisa as she sat behind her counter. A very odd effect was produced amid all these modern things by a gigantic secretary black with age which stood against the wall. It had been varnished, but nothing could rejuvenate it. lisa wished to keep this piece of furniture which uncle gradel had used for more than forty years she said it would bring good luck it had a most formidable aspect with its enormous locks and was so heavy that it was almost impossible to move it when florenne and connue entered lisa was seated before the let-down leaf of the secretary writing she was adding up long columns of figures in a hand that was round and very legible she made a little sign to signify that they were not to see a little signify that they were not to see speak to her. The two men sat down in silence. Florent looked around the room at the bed, the two portraits, and the clock.

Now then, said Lisa, at last having verified her accounts, Listen to me. We have some business to settle with you, my dear Floreen. This was the first time she had thus addressed him. She continued, Your uncle Gradle died without a will. You and your brother were the two sole heirs. Today we are ready to give you your share. but i ask nothing exclaimed floren in fact i want nothing kenu was in ignorance of his wife's intention he turned a little pale and looked at her with an air of vexation he was sincerely attached to his brother but it struck him as unnecessary to throw his uncle's money at him in this way i know very well dear floren resumed lisa that you did not come back with any intention of claiming that which belongs to you only business is business and we had best get through with it at once your uncle's savings amounted to eighty-five thousand francs i have therefore put down to your credit forty two thousand five hundred francs please look at this and she showed him the paper

it is unfortunately not as easy to put a value on the shop stock and business i can only guess at this but i have put it all down at fifteen thousand three hundred and ten francs which will give you seven thousand six thousand six hundred and fifty-five francs. Please add these columns up. And she gave him another sheet of paper. But, cried Kenu, the old man's shop was not worth fifteen thousand francs. I would not have given ten thousand for it. His wife exasperated him.

It was folly to push honesty to such a point as this. Florent would never have thought of the shop. Why had she not let it alone? The shop was worth fifteen thousand three. hundred and ten francs, answered Lisa, in an imperturbable tone. You understand, my dear Florent, that it is unnecessary for us to employ a lawyer to arrange our matters? We are entirely ready to give you your share.

I thought of this as soon as you came. And while you were ill, I went over our accounts, and I have made it all clear to myself, and I hope to you. Ask any questions you please. I have all the data here. Florent smiled. He was touched, my question. by this probity. He laid the paper on the lap of La Belle Lisa and took her hand in his.

My dear Lisa, he said, I am happy to see that you are so prosperous, but I do not want this money. You and my brother should be the sole heirs, for you too took care of him to the last. I need nothing, and I do not wish to disturb your business. She insisted even became angry, while Canu sat gnawing his thumbs and vexed silence. "'Ah,' answered Florein, smiling, "'if Uncle Gradle should hear you. "'He is quite capable of coming back to this world "'and taking his money again.

"'He never liked me, you know.' "'No, indeed, he never liked you,' "'murmured Cunieu, who could stand it no longer. "'But Lisa declared that she did not care "'to have the responsibility of money "'that was not her own. "'And Florein asked if she would not allow him "'to invest his money in her eating shop.

"'He asked, "'he asked, that he was quite willing to accept a little for immediate use as he needed an entire outfit of course said kenu you will live here you will eat and we will provide you with all you need that is understood conu was quite touched and declared he would take on himself the duty of making his brother as fat as himself but floren shook his head lisa in the meantime had closed her account books and replaced them in the secretary you make a great mistake both of you she said firmly but i have done all i could now you must go your own way but pray let us have no arguments they worry me too much they discussed other matters now it was necessary to give some explanation of florence's return he told them that he had come back to france on the papers of a poor fellow who had died in his arms of yellow fever at suriname singularly enough this youth was also named Florent, Florent la Carriere, and had only one cousin in Paris. Nothing was easier than to assume this man's identity. Lisa agreed to be the cousin.

It was decided, therefore, that he should be described as the cousin returned from foreign parts and hospitably entertained by their Conu Gradesz, as the household was called in the cartier, until he could find a position. That evening, Florent was freshly arrayed all in black, contrary to the wishes of Kenu, who said that it was most dreary. There was no attempt made to conceal the newcomer, and Lisa made constant illusions to her cousin. He wandered from the shop to the kitchen and back again. Cernou fretted at the table because he ate so little and left on his plate half of what was placed there. Lisa was as calm and placid as ever, did not in any way object to his presence,

not even in the morning when he was really very much in the way. She forgot him, in fact, so entirely at times that when he suddenly appeared before her, she started quickly. But this start was immediately followed by a sweet smile. She was very much impressed by the disinterestedness of this man and felt for him great respect, not a mingled with a vague fear. Florein enjoyed the affection by which he was surrounded. At bedtime he went upstairs a little wearied by the emptiness of his day. Two youths employed in the shop inhabited attic rooms by the side of his own.

one of them leon the apprentice was not more than fifteen he was a real child who with the most innocent air in the world helped himself surreptitiously to every stray sausage or bit of meat on which he could lay his hand he hid them under his bed and ate them during the night many a time in the middle of the night floren fancied that leon was giving a supper he heard whispers and the noise of eating rustling of paper and a rippling laugh a child's laugh like the sauce shrill of a flageolet. The other fellow, Auguste Landois, was from Trois, and very stout with an enormous head, and bald, although he was not 28. The first evening that Florent was there, this fellow told his story in a long, confused way. He had only come to Paris to learn the business and had intended to return shortly to Troa, where he intended to open an eating-house, and where his cousin, Augustine Landois, was waiting for him. They had had the same god-pairns, and bore the same names, but now he had been bitten by ambition and wished to settle in Paris,

and there used to his advantage the small inheritance he had received from his mother. August said many pleasant things of Madame Cunuch. He said she was most kind, and had consented to his sending for Augustine to take the place of a girl in her shop who had turned out ill. He had learned his trade, and now she was learning hers. In a year or 18 months they would marry and establish themselves somewhere in Paris. They were in no haste to marry because business had not been good that year. He then told how they had been photographed together at effect. He went into Florence's room to show his photograph

which he thought the girl had left behind when she vacated this room which had been hers. He held the candle high up as he said that Augustine would be much better off downstairs, for the attics were cold in winter. Then he went off, leaving Florent alone opposite the photograph. August was only another Canu. Augustine, an unripe Lisa.

Loran, liked by these young men, adored by his brother, and quietly accepted by Lisa, was in fact utterly ennuiier. He had endeavored to obtain pupils, but without success, particularly as out of fear of being recognized, he did not dare apply at any schools. Lisa gently suggested that he should apply to some mercantile houses for

position as corresponding clerk. She adhered to this idea and finally offered to look for such a situation herself, as she began to feel a certain annoyance at finding him lounging about, and always under her feet. At first she felt only a mild dislike for a person who folded his arms and waited for the bread to fall into his mouth. She had not yet begun to reproach him in her own mind for eating of their food. I could not swallow a mouthful, she would say, if I dreamed all day long as you do, it would take away my appetite gavar also looked for a situation for floren but his efforts were made in the most mysterious way he wished beside to find something dramatic some employment especially suited to a convict gavar was a man of the opposition he was not much over fifty but he boasted of having seen four governments charles the tenth the priests and the noble he stigmatized as rabble louis philippe was not much over fifty but he boasted of having seen four governments charles the tenth the priests and the noble he stigmatized as rabble louis philippe was an imbecile with his bourgeois talk and he told the story of the woollen hose in which the citizen king concealed his money as to the republic of forty-eight it was a farce wherein the workmen had been deceived

he did not say however that he approved of the second of december because he now regarded napoleon the third as his personal enemy a man who shut himself up with de mornie and that crew to commit all sorts of enormities He was extremely diffuse on this point and dropped his voice as he affirmed that every night close carriages filled with women drove to the Tullery and that he himself had often heard the noise of their orgies. Gavar's religion was to be as disagreeable as possible to the government. He voted for the candidate which would be most embarrassing to the ministry, and did his best to lead the police astray in any of their political investigations, and to give them a most incendiary character. he talked with an air of great importance as if the tulleries set had known and trembled before him and swore he could have half of them gaiotined and the other half transported all his noisy political chatter was pervaded by the same spirit which induces a parisian shopkeeper to open his shutters on a day of a fight at the barricades to see the dead bodies consequently when florenne returned from cayenne he immediately set himself to plan some way in which he might safely flout at the emperor and ministry, and at all the men in office down to the very sergeants in the police force. Gavre gloried in Florence's companionship.

It was like a forbidden pleasure. He winked at him and told him the simplest thing in a sepulchral whisper, and pressed his hand in the most significant way. At last he had an adventure. He had a companion who was really compromised, and he was now able, without making his statement out of whole cloth, to talk of the danger that he run. He felt a certain fear withal

in the face of this man who had escaped from prison and whose haggard face and worn frame told of sufferings and privations. But this fear was delicious after all and convinced him that he had really done an astonishing thing in welcoming as a friend, a man who was as compromising as Florent. Florein was now sacred to him.

He swore by Florent, and Florein's name rose to his lips whenever he wished to give an instance of the importance of the government. Gueva had lost his wife some months after the coup d'etat, but he kept his cook-shop until 1856. At this time, the belief was current that he had made considerable money in connection with a grocer in the neighborhood by furnishing dried fruits to the army in the east,

but the truth was that, after he sold out his business, he, for a year, lived on his income. But he did not care to allude to the origin of his fortune, for it prevented him from expressing his opinion of the Crimean War, which he stigmatized as an adventurous expedition invented merely to consolidate the throne and fill certain pockets. At the end of a year he was frightly bored by his bachelor life in quarters, and as he was in the habit of calling on the Kunugrades almost daily,

he ended by establishing himself very near them. Then the hall fascinated him, and he determined to take a stall in the poultry market merely to fill up the emptiness of his days and to hear all the gossip of the market. Here he was in his element and enjoyed the constant chatter immensely. Florein often went there to see him.

The middle of the day was still warm. The women sat picking their poultry in the sunshine, the feathers looking like snow falling from their fingers. Questions and entreaties followed Floreen as he walked through the narrow path. A fine pair of ducks, sir? Come and let me show you chickens. as fat as butter. Won't you buy this pair of pigeons?

He passed on with a half-impatient frown, and the woman picked all the faster. The thick down filled the air, already heavy with the odor of the poultry. About the middle of the alley, near the fountain, was Gavard in his shirt-sleeves. His arms folded over the bib of his blue apron, holding forth to ten or more women

over whom he reigned, he being the only man in the poultry market. He had quarreled with five or six girls, one after the other, whom he had employed to keep his stall, and finally decided to sell his merchandise himself, saying that these poor spent their whole day in chattering. As it was necessary, however, that someone should take his place when he was away, he engaged Mergelland, who was generally out of a situation. Floreau was always amused and always astonished at Gavar's incessant chatter,

and at his entire self-possession among all these petticoats, interrupting one, quarrelling with another ten stalls off, making more noise himself than did all the others put together. Gavard's family consisted only of a sister-in-law and a niece. When his wife died, her elder sister, Madame Lacour, who had been a widow for a year, was perfectly inconsolable, and went every evening to console the bereaved and miserable husband. She unquestionably had at that time the idea of becoming the successor of the dear deceased.

but Gavar hated thin women, thin cats and thin dogs, and Madame Lecair, furious at seeing the comfortable fortune slip through her fingers, absolutely hated him, and soon learned to regard her brother-in-law as her absolute enemy. She occupied herself entirely with his comings and goings. When she saw him take this stall, only a few steps from the place where she sold butter, cheese, and eggs, she accused him of having done it merely to tease her and bring her ill luck.

she made such a fuss and took this so much to heart that she ended by losing much of her custom for some time she had with her daughter one of her sisters a peasant woman the child grew up in the midst of the market as her family name was sariette she was soon called la sariette at sixteen la sariette was so bewilderingly beautiful that gentlemen went to buy her cheese merely to look at her she cared little for these gentlemen she claimed to be of the people and made her selection from among them. It was a porter whom this brunette with a virgin-like face and starry eyes, a porter whom she chose. At twenty, she was established

at the aisle as a fruit merchant, and her lover, Monsieur Jules, wore the freshest of blouses and a velvet cap, and sauntered into the market late in the day. They lived together in the Rue, Vovill, on the third floor

of a great house. La Sariette's ingratitude was the last touch of bitterness in the cup of Madame Le Cure, who reproached her knees vehemently. They quarreled. The niece amused herself at her aunt's expense with Monsieur Jules,

who repeated all her witticisms at market. Gavar thought La Seriette very droll and showed himself full of indulgence toward her. He tapped her on her cheek when he met her. She was plump and had a skin like satin. One afternoon, as Florent was in the shop, greatly fatigued by the long walk he had taken, Margeolin came in.

This great stolid fellow was Lisa's especial protege. She said he was not bad in any way, that he was a little dull, possibly, but that his strength was almost incredible, that he was a treasure to his employers. It was she who, insisting that he had neither father nor mother, had induced Gavard to take him into his employment. Lisa was at the counter, annoyed by the dirty shoes of Florent which had left spots on the marble-tessilated floor. twice she had thrown down sawdust.

She smiled at Margellin, who said, in a low, mysterious whisper, looking around to see that he was not heard. Monsieur Gavard wishes me to say just these words to you. Is there any danger, and can he talk with you on matters that you know of? Say to Monsieur Gavard that we shall expect him, answered Lisa, so accustomed to his mysterious ways that she was quite undisturbed by them. But Margelein still lingered with adoring eyes fixed on the fair mistress. of the establishment. Touched by this silent adoration, she said, I hope you give entire satisfaction to Monsieur Gavard.

He is a good man, and you must try and please him. Yes, Madame Lisa. She turned away to wait on a lady who had come to buy a pound of coatlet or cornichon. She left the counter and went to the chopping block at the back of the shop, where, with a sharp knife, she cut three cutlets from a piece of pork. Then, with a wooden mallet, she gave the cutlets each three sharp, decisive blows. All this Lisa did with a rather serious air. When the lady was gone, Lisa was astonished to see that Margelland was still there.

What? Not gone, she said. He turned to depart, but she detained him. Listen to me, she said hastily. I saw you and Cadine together again this morning, and I really cannot understand how a good-looking fellow like yourself can waste so much time, or be seen with that little scapegrace. That is a all. Go quickly and tell Mr. Gavar that he can come here at once while there is no one here. Mergeolet went off with an air

of confusion while La Belle Lisa stood leaning on her counter and looking out toward the Hall. Florent gazed at her, wonder struck at her beauty. Before her on white china plates were sausages from Al and Lyon. Tongues and small square bits of

salt pork, a pig's head surrounded with jelly, boxes of sardines floating in oil, blood-red hams and hams that were pale rose and hue galantine truffer boarsheads o pistache and in yellow pots patte de foie and patte de livre as gavard did not come she mechanically rearranged these dishes and then again waited the whiteness of her cuffs and her apron rivaled the whiteness of her dishes floren looked at her reflection in the mirrors even on the ceiling he saw her he was in fact surrounded with a crowd of lisa's all as plump and as placid as the meats before her. Gavar appeared, and at once went to find Cunuch in the kitchen, and then, returning to the shop, he announced in the presence of Lisa,

Cunieu and Florent, that he had found a situation for the latter. He interrupted himself, however, in the full tide of his discourse, on seeing Mademoiselle Sajé appear. She, from the sidewalk, had caught a glimpse of the little circle. The old lady in her faded dress and carrying, as usual, her shawl. shabby black reticule, wearing a black straw bonnet, guiltless of ribbons, which threw a heavy shadow on her pale face, smiled at Lisa and bowed slightly to the men. This little old lady was an enigma to the neighborhood, although she had lived forty years in

La Rue Pirouette. She never said where she came from, though once she made an incautious allusion to Sherbourg, as if she were born there. But this was all, no one knew more. She talked incessantly, but only of other people. knew the most intimate details of their daily life peeped into the letters and listened at the doors of her neighbors her tongue was dreaded throughout the cartse where she roamed all day long with her empty reticule pretending that she was buying her provisions but in reality buying nothing but picking up all sorts of gossip kenu had always declared her to be the person who had spread the story of uncle gradel's dying in the kitchen she had always felt an extreme interest in uncle gradel and the kenuz and for a fortnight had suffered agonies of curiosity from floren's arrival she felt certain that she had seen him somewhere she stood before the counter and looked first at one dish and then at another i declare she said it is impossible to know what to eat now

days. I really have no appetite. Have you any breaded cutlets, Madame Canew? Without waiting for a reply, she raised a cover. Yes, Mademoiselle Sajet, said Lisa, I think I have one cutlet left. Well, never mind, said the old lady. I think a breaded cutlet is almost too heavy this evening. Besides, I should rather have something I should not be obliged to warm up. she drew nearer floraes she spoke and looked first at him and then at gavar who was beating a devil's tattoo on the marble table why don't you have a bit of this salt pork asked lisa a bit of pork yes i suppose and she took up a fork and tried the thickness of each piece in the plate and yet i do not know then take a tongue a bit of the head or a slice of larded veal answered lisa patiently but mademoiselle Sajette shook her head and made a little face of disgust at each one of the dishes,

and, coming to the conclusion that she should discover nothing, she departed, saying she should come in another day. Lisa washed her across the street and enter a fruit stall, and then, turning to Gavar, she said quietly, Go on. Gavar began to describe the place he had found for Florent. There was quite a little story attached to it. One of his friends, Monsieur Valoc, inspector of fish, was out of health and was obliged. to take a vacation. The poor man had said to him that very morning that he wished to find a

substitute himself so that in case he was cured he could have his place back again. You understand, said Gavar, that in my opinion, Baloch won't live six months. If Florein is satisfactory he can keep the place, and it will be delicious to bamboozle the police. Think of Floreen having money from these people. This view of the situation struck him as so deliciously comic that he burst into a shout of laughter. I do not wish this position, said Florent. I have sworn to accept nothing from the empire. I would die with hunger rather than do it.

It is absolutely impossible, Gavar, do you hear? Gavard heard and was far from pleased. Cunieu was silent also, but Lisa turned and looked at Florent, whose nostrils dilated with indignation as he spoke. At this moment, La Sariette came. I forgot to buy some. pork, she cried. Madame Connue, cut me twelve slips, very slender, for my larks. Jules want some larks today. She seemed to fill the shop with her rustling's curse.

She smiled at everyone in succession. Gavard took her hand in his, and she said boldly, You were talking of me, uncle, when I came in. I know it well. Lisa called her. Are these slips slender enough, she said, and as she wrapped them in paper, she added, do you want anything else? yes as long as i am here you may give me a pound of leaf lard for i adore fried potatoes my best breakfast is a bunch of radishes and two sous worth of fried potatoes lisa put a sheet of stout paper on the scales she took the lard from a pot with a wooden spatula and weighed out the pound she gave the paper a deft twist twenty-four sous she said is there anything more la sariette shook her head and laughed with a glance at the men. She wore a shabby gray gown and a red fichu loosely nodded around her throat. Before she went out, she shook her finger lightly at Gavar, saying,

"'Then you won't tell me what you were talking about when I came in?' "'I saw you all laughing. I think you very selfish to keep all your fun to yourself.' She left the shop and ran across the street. "'La Belle Lisa said dryly. "'Mademoiselle Sajet sent her.' gavar was considerably disturbed by floren's reception of his proposition and would not speak it was lisa who broke the silence by saying in a friendly voice you are wrong flora in refusing this position you know how hard it is to find employment in these days you should not be so fastidious i have given my reasons he answered she shrugged her shoulders yes she replied i know very well that you do not like the government but that is no reason why you should refuse to earn your bread.

And, after all, the Emperor is not a bad man. My dear, do you suppose he knew that you eat mouldy bread and spoiled meat? He can't know everything, of course. You are unjust. Gavard rebelled at hearing these faint praises of the Emperor. No, no, Madame Cunuch, he exclaimed, You are going too far. They are a set of rascals.

Oh, interruptedly said, you are never happy unless you are talking politics and i hate them they always make me angry besides they have nothing to do with floren what have you to say kenu conu cautiously replied to his wife's abrupt questions it would be a very good thing perhaps and another long silence fell on the little circle pray said floren at last pray say no more about this my mind is made up i will wait you will wait cried lisa out of all patience the colour rose to her cheeks and she clenched her hands over her white apron to restrain her quick words another person came in at the same moment it was madame le can you give me a mixed plate for fifty sous per pound she said pretending not to see her brother-in-law as she spoke afterward she gave him a careless nod and then scrutinized the three men hoping perhaps to discover from their expressions the wonderful secret they were discussing. She saw that she was intruding, but she enjoyed the knowledge, which only made her more rigid and angular in her scanty skirts. Her spider-like arms and bony hands were folded under her apron. She coughed slightly. You have a gold, said Gavall,

in order to break the awkward silence. She answered with a curt, no. Her skin was brick-red when it was stretched over her high cheekbones. This and a certain odd look about her eyes and lids indicated some disease of the liver. She turned to the counter-watched by Lisa, who had not the most absolute faith in the honesty of her customer. Do not give me any of the brains, said Madame Lacourre. I do not like them. Lisa had taken a sharp knife and cut some slices of sausage.

She then went to the smoked ham, and to that which was only salted and took off some delicate pieces. Her white-dimpled hands performed their task deftly. She lifted a cover and said, Do you want some of the larded veal? Madame Lecair deliberated for a few moments upon this weighty point, and then nodded an assent.

Lisa took out a slice of larded veal and then of a patte of hair's feet, and she laid each slice on the paper on the scales. You have not given me any of the boar's head or pistache, said Madame Lecoeur in her disagreeable voice. Lisa was willing to give some of the boar's head, but when the woman insisted on two slices of Galantine, she became impatient, and told her frankly that the Galantine

had truffles, and she could only add it to the mixed plates which she sold at a higher price. When the things were weighed, the woman insisted on a slice of jelly and some pickled cucumbers, which Lisa, with hands trembling with indignation, added impatiently. It is twenty-five sous, I believe, said Madame Lacourre, enjoying Lisa's irritation, and slowly pulling out her sous from her pocket, and glaring. at Gavall, who was swearing under his breath at her prolonged stay. At last she departed with one long, lingering look. As soon as she had gone, Lisa burst out.

And La Sagesseigne sent her, too. I wonder if that old woman intends to send all the hall here, to find out what we are saying. How silly they are! Who ever heard of buying such things as redded cutlets and mixed plates at this hour? But they would rather give themselves a fit indigestion than not know. But if La Sages

ends in anyone else, you will see what I will do. End of Chapter 2, Part 2. Chapter 2, Part 3, of the Markets of Paris by Emil Zola. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. The Miser's Treasure,

Part 3. Before Lisa's anger, the two men were silent. Gavah was playing with a bit of the railing around the counter. He said, slowly to Florein. Don't you see that these scamps have nearly starved you? Very well.

Now let them feed you. This idea delights me. Florence smiled, but still shook his head. Kenu, to please his wife, uttered a few faint words of entreaty, but Lisa did not seem to hear. She was looking intently

out toward the hall. Suddenly she exclaimed, Ah, they have sent La Normand now. Very well. Well, La Normand shall pay for all the others. A tall Brunette entered the door. It was the pretty fishwoman Louise Mehuden, known as La Normand.

There was a touch of boldness in her beauty, although her skin was very pale and delicate. She was as tall as Lisa, but her bust was fuller. She entered in an offhand sort of way, with a gold chain dangling over her apron, her hair fashionably dressed, and a knot of lace and ribbon at her throat. She brought with her a fresh salt odor almost like the sea, and had on one of her hands a herring scale, which caught the light like an opal. The two women had been intimate friends for a long time, although they were also rivals. They called one La Belle Normand, the other La Belle Lisa,

and instituted constant comparisons between the two. Lisa, where she stood, could see the fishwoman among her salmon and turbots. The two women watched each other closely. La Belle Lisa drew her corset lacing tighter. La Belle Normand added rings to her fingers and ribbons to her dress. When the two met, they were very sweet and very complimentary, each watching the other furtively and taking in the detail of the costume worn by the other. "'Is it to-morrow that you make your black pudding?' asked La Normand, gaily.

Lisa was slow to anger, but not easily soothed. She answered, yes, in one brief monosyllable. "'Because,' continued the other, "'I adore it when it is hot. "'I shall come for some.' "'She realized the lack of cordiality "'in her rival's manner. "'She looked at Florein with an air of interest.

"'Then, as she did not wish to depart "'without saying something, "'she had the rashness to add. "'The last I bought of you was not fresh.' "'Not fresh?' answered the mistress of the establishment, "'white with indignation. "'She might have restrained herself "'but for that knot of ribbon.

"'Was it not a note of ribbon?' "'Was it not a Enough, she thought, that she must be spied and watched. She must also be insulted. She placed her hands on her counter, and in a voice that was hoarse with anger, she said, slowly, tell me, last week when you sold me a pair of souls, did I say before everybody that they smelled badly? Smelled badly, my souls, cried the fishwoman, flushed and breathless. The two women fairly glared at each other. All their beautiful friendship had vanished. A word suffice to show their sharp teeth under their smiles.

You are an insulting creature, said La Belle Normand. If ever I put my foot here again, you will know it. All right, answered La Belle, Lisa. The fishwoman went out, uttering a sentence which left Lisa trembling. The scene passed so rapidly that the three men had no time to interfere. Lisa soon regained herself control and entered into conversation without making any allusion to what had taken place. she told gavar that he had best say nothing to m valoc for two or three days kenu went back to his kitchen and gavar took floren off with him to get a glass of vermouth they saw in the distance three women madame lecoeur mademoiselle sagitt and la sariette talking together very busily

the old maid was holding forth as i was telling you madame lequeur your brother-in-law is forever in their shop you have seen him have you not oh certainly you he was sitting on a table. I, interrupted La Sariette. I could not hear one word. I can't imagine what you expected me to hear. Mademoiselle Sages shrugged her shoulders. You have no idea, I suppose, why these people are so very attentive to Monsieur Gavard.

In my opinion, they mean him to leave all he possesses to little Pauline. Do you think that? cried Madame Lacour, turning pale. Then, in a gasping tone, as if she had received a dagger-thrust, she said, "'I am all alone, this man can do, of course, just as he pleases. His niece and he are good friends. She has already forgotten what she has cost me.' "'No, indeed, aunt,' said La Serriette.

"'I have forgotten nothing. It is you who have never had anything but harsh words for me.' They were at once reconciled. The niece promised to be more considerate, and the aunt swore that she regarded started Sariette as her own daughter. Then Mademoiselle proceeded to give them advice as to the manner in which they should behave to prevent Gava from wasting his property.

It was decided that the Kenugradel did not amount to much, and they had best be carefully watched. Something is going on, said the old lady, but what I can't yet tell? This Florent, this cousin of Madame Canus, what do you think of him? The three women put their first of her. their heads close together.

You know very well, said Le Courre, that we saw him one morning with holes in his shoes and ragged clothes all covered with dust. He really frightens me. Nonsense, murmured La Sariette. He is thin, very thin, but he is a good man all the same. Mademoiselle Sagerie reflected, I have been trying to find this out for a fortnight. I am certain that Monsieur Gavard knew him.

in fact I feel as if I had seen him somewhere. She was still cudgling her memory when Le Normand swept down upon them like an avalanche. She is a civil creature certainly that canoe woman, she cried. Will you believe that she told me that I sold stinking fish? Just think of that, while their own spoiled pork poisons everybody. What did you say to her? asked the old woman, delighted to hear that the two friends had quarreled.

I? Nothing, not a word. I just went in to engage some pudding for tomorrow night, and she insulted me. Miserable, hypocrite, with all her mild airs. But she shall pay more dearly for this than she thinks for. The three women felt instinctively that La Normand was not telling the truth, but they were nonetheless ready to espouse her quarrel. They turned up La Rue-en-But-aux, busy with the invention of some story which should injure the canus. but what did the cousin say asked mademoiselle saget the cousin answered la normand sharply you believe in that cousin do you he is much more likely to be a lover the three others exclaimed at this for lisa's propriety of conduct had passed into a proverb in the cartier oh i mean what i say these women who have that touch-me-not look are no better than others let me tell you mademoiselle sagay nodded as if to say that-that-to-say that-you mrs saget nodded as if to say that that she agreed with this opinion. She said, insinuatingly,

To be sure, this cousin seems to have fallen from the skies, and the canoe's account of him does not hang together very well. He is her lover, I tell you, reiterated the fishwoman, some fellow she has picked up in the street. She has given him an entire new suit of clothes, said Madame Lacquerre. He must cost her a pretty penny. The woman immediately began to discuss all that went on in the Conugredel Ménage.

Madame Lecair declared that she would open her brother's eyes in regard to the character of the house he frequented. La Normand grew a little calmer and ashamed of what she had said, left her friends abruptly. When she had departed, Madame Le Carre said, I am sure that La Normand was insolent, for it is a way she has. She had best not speak of Lisa's cousin, for people will be up to remember that she found a baby one fine morning in her fish stall. They looked at each other and laughed.

When Madame Lecourt left in her turn, La Seriette said, I wish my aunt were that all these people alone? She grows thin fussing about her neighbor's affairs. She always beat me if a man looked at me, but she need have no fear. She will never find any brat under her bed. Memoiselle Sajet laughed delightedly, and when she was alone she said half aloud

that these people were not worth the cost. cord to hang them with. She hurried down the street until she reached the bakery, kept by a certain Madame Tabouro, who was a handsome woman and a friend of Lisa's. Also a great authority on all subjects. When anyone said, Madame Tabouro said this, Madame Tabouro said that, there was no further discussion. Mademoiselle Sajet inquired when the oven would be hot that she might have a dish of

pears baked, and then said many nice things of Lisa, extolling her exquisite neat. and the superiority of all the things she sold at her shop. Then, quite pleased with this moral alibi, and enchanted at the coming battle which sniffed afar off, she started home, her mind dwelling pertinaciously on the image of Madame Canu's cousin. That same evening, after dinner, Florent went out and walked for some time in one of the covered streets of the hall. A fine fog was rising, filling the empty places with a grey sadness, pierced at intervals with the yellow gas.

for the first time he felt himself to be in the way he realized the inopportune fashion in which he had fallen into this fat and comfortable little circle he said to himself that he had disturbed the whole cartier that he embarrassed his brother and his brother's wife and that they found it difficult to carry their contraband cousin these reflections rendered him very sad not that he felt his brother or lisa to be unkind in any way he thought them only too kind but he accused himself of a want of delicacy and quartering himself upon them doubts disturbed him the recollection of the conversation in the shop made him uncomfortable although he did not know precisely why perhaps he was wrong in refusing the position which had been offered this thought was bitter to him and he wondered if he should be compelled to act contrary to his convictions here a damp blast of wind compelled him to button his overcoat and blew away the enervating atmosphere of the luxurious eating-house with which his garments were filled He turned to go home when he met Clod Lanci face to face. The painter, buttoned to the chin in his shabby coat, was in a state of great rage. He swore that his life was that of a dog, and that he would never touch a pencil again as long as he lived. That afternoon he had kicked a hole through a study he had made of Cadine's head.

He was subject to these attacks, common to all artists who feel their inability to execute the works of which they dream. At such times he wandered like a madman through the streets, saw everything through a glass darkly, dreamed that the end of all was at hand, and looked forward to the morrow as to a resurrection. Laurent, with difficulty, recognized the gay planer whom he had met on that memorable morning on his arrival in Paris and seen often since. Claude knew his history and was always cordial when they chanced to meet, but he rarely went to the canoes. "'You are still at my aunts,' said Clode.

"'Well, it passes my comprehension "'how you can stand that smell of cooking. "'If I stay there an hour, "'I feel as if I were overfed "'and had eaten enough for three days. "'I made a mistake in going in there today. "'I lost an hour or two.' "'After a moment's silence, he continued.

"'They are good people, too, "'but they look so well and hearty "'that they really make me uncomfortable. "'They wanted me to paint me their pictures, but how on earth can I draw faces in which there is not a bone? Aunt Lisa would never have been as silly as I have been today, and now I think of it, I don't believe that head was so bad after all. Then they talked of Aunt Lisa. Claude said that his mother rarely saw her now. He believed that Lisa was a little ashamed,

that her sister should have married a common-working man. Besides, she had little sympathy for people who were unfortunate. As for himself, he had had one stroke of luck. A good man had fallen in love with him, a child of eight, and with the animals and figures he drew and had sent him to school. And when he died,

had left him a small yearly income of a thousand francs which at least prevented him from starving. But I wish, nevertheless, he continued, that I had learned a trade, that of a cabinet-maker, for example. They are a happy class.

They have a table to make. They make it, and they go to bed, glad they have finished their work, and perfectly satisfied with it and themselves. Now I never sleep at night. All these confounded studies I have made buzz about in my head. I am never done, never at rest. His voice broke. He tried to laugh, and then uttered an oath trying to find the most atrocious language with the wild rage of a man whose nature is delicate and refined, but who feels that he has made a great mistake of life. Suddenly he's stopped short and pointed down into one of the cellars of the hall where a gas light was

kept burning continually. He had caught a glimpse of Marjolet and Cadine calmly sleeping. These scamps had found a way to enter these places after the gratings had been put down. Now look at that animal, cried Clod. Did you ever see more perfect animal beauty? And in the voice of the painter there was a tone of absolute envy. They are happy as pigs. They make their supper off of apples, and then they go to sleep in one of those baskets full of chicken feathers.

After all, you have done well, perhaps, to stay at Aunt Lisa's. You can't help growing fat there. And he walked off sulkily. Florent went up to his attic, restless and uncertain. The next day he went out early and took a long walk. At breakfast he was greatly comforted by Lisa's gentleness. She spoke of the place which had been offered to him, but very quiet. as of a matter which required consideration. He listened, leaving his untouched plate before him.

He was carried away by the dazzling cleanliness of the room, by the softness of the mat under his feet, by the fresh paper and glittering varnish. He wondered what was true and what was false. Yet he had strength to repeat his refusal, at the same time quite conscious of the bad taste of which he was guilty in making such a brutal display of his resentments and rancor in such a peaceful, comfortable spot as this. Lisa was not angry. She smiled with that lovely smile which embarrassed Florent even more than her irritation of the previous evening.

At dinner they talked only of the immense amount of labor which would be necessary to get in all their winter's talk. The evenings were now cold. As soon as they had dined, they went into the kitchen, where it was always warm, and so large that a number of persons could be comfortable there around a square table placed in the center. the walls of the room were covered with plaques and blue faeons on the left was the great furnace with its three holes in which stood three pots blackened with soot and constant use and further off was a little stove where all the broiling was done and above was a row of shelves on which stood or hung long-handled spoons strainers skimmers collanders and row upon row of drawers all labelled wherein were kept bread-crumbs coarse and fine mustard pepper and salt spices cloves and cloves and

and nutmegs. On the right was the chopping table. An enormous block of oak against the wall all seemed and scarred, while several machines, whose uses were unknown to a casual observer, stood nearby, their wheels and their general aspect, giving a look of diabolical mystery to the place. Piles of saw spans of tin and copper stood in every corner, all delicately clean. Small saws and larding needles hung side by side. In spite of the absolute cleanliness of the place, there was a smell of grease which permeated the very walls and reddened the bricks on the floor

and polished the edges of the chopping block until it looked as if it had been furnished. And it seemed as if in this constant evaporation from the three pots where so many pigs had been boiled that from every nail in the room and every plank in the wall oozed grease. The Kunikradel did everything themselves. They bought,

nothing except sardines, cheeses, conserves, and patés from a celebrated house. Consequently, September to them, was a busy month. They then filled the cellar which they had empty during the summer. Cunu, assisted by August and Leone, made his sausages, prepared his hams, and rendered his lard. There was a formidable noise of frying and sizzling, of chopping and pounding, and the smell of cooking filled the whole neighborhood. The night of which we write it was late, 11 o'clock. Kenu, who had been busy with two huge pots of lard, now occupied himself with the pudding. August was helping him.

At the corner of the table, Lisa and Augustine were mending linen, while opposite, Florent was playing with little Pauline. Leon was chopping meat for sausages with slow and regular blows. Auguste went to the courtyard and brought in two huge jugs of hogsblood. It was Auguste who killed the animals at the abattoir, and brought him to the the blood home himself, leaving the carcasses to be dressed and sent home in the regular wagons. Cernou declared that there was no one in Paris who knew the quality of pig's blood, as did

August. If August said, The pudding will be good? The pudding was good. How will it be tonight? asked Lisa. I think it will be excellent, madame. I can tell by the way the blood runs. When I pull out the knife, if the blood runs slowly, it is not a good sign.

It shows that the blood is poor. But, interrupted Kunu, that all depends on how deep you put in the knife. August's pale, fat face relaxed into a smile. No, he answered, I always put my knife in. Three fingers deep, that is the rule. The blood should be thick while it is warm but not coagulated. Augustine dropped her needle and looked at her future husband with fixed attention. Her suffused face with its close bands of chestnut hair was full of interest.

Even little Pauline listened. "'I beat it up with my hand,' continued the young man, moving his fingers as if he were beating a syllabub. "'Then I look at my hand, and it must be the same colour all over with a greasy look. "'Then I say to myself, yes, it will be a good pudding.' He looked at his hand complacently. This hand, which was so constantly thrust into buckets of blood, was pink and delicate with polished nails.

Canu nodded. Leone chopped on. Pauline climbed on her cousin's knees. tell me the story she cried of the gentleman who was eaten by the beasts this talk about the blood had apparently awakened in the child's mind the remembrance of this story floren did not understand but lisa laughed don't you remember what you were telling gavard one night the child must have heard you floren became very grave the child took in her arms the huge yellow cat and put it on her cousin's knees saying that monton wished to hear the story but monton jumped on the table and sat there with back well up watching the tall thin man who for the last two weeks had apparently afforded him much food for reflection poline kicked and plunged in her impatience to hear the story pray tell her said lisa and she may let us have some peace florence sat with his eyes fixed on the ground he slowly raised them looked first at the two women placidly sewing and then at kenu and august who were were scalding a pot for the pudding. The gas burned evenly, the heat of the furnace was very delightful,

and the aspect of the room one of intense comfort. Florent lifted Pauline, and as he placed her on his knees began to talk to her. There was once a very poor man. He was sent far away to the other side of the sea. Upon the ship which took him away, there were four hundred forza, with whom he was to live five weeks. he was devoured by pleas and killed by the heat and bad air fifty were allowed to go on deck at a time and two cannons were brought to bear full on them for no little fear was felt of these men the poor fellow i am telling you about was very happy when it came his turn he had lost his appetite and could not sleep and at night when he thought he could not be heard he wept his eyes out poline listened with wide open eyes and hands closely folded that is not the story i mean she said not the story of the man he was eaten by the beasts wait said florent gently i am coming to it go on murmured the child in a contented tone then her little forehead contracted and with a puzzled air she said but what had the poor man done that they sent him away in the big boat

lisa and augustine smiled the child's quick intelligence delighted them lisa took advantage of the circumstance to point a moral she said that children too were sent away in the boat if they were not good then remarked pauline judiciously my cousin's poor man was very wise to cry in the night when no one could see him lisa lifted her eyebrows and went on with her sewing some onions were slowly frying on the fire with a contented little little noise, like that made by crickets basking in the heat, and Leon had not finished his chopping. When they arrived, continued Florein, they took the man to an island called L'Il du Diabre,

and there he found some friends who had also been driven from their country. They were miserable and obliged to work like convicts. They were counted three times each day by the guard to be sure they were all there. At night, they were

shut up in a great barn-like building of wood. At the end of a year, they were nearly naked and went barefoot. They had built huts out of logs to shelter them from the heat of the sun, which is terrific there, but the huts could not keep out mosquitoes. Several died, and the others were so thin and yellow that they were enough to frighten anyone. Auguste, give me the lard, cried Keneux, and when he held the dish, he dropped some of the lard slowly into the pot. "'But didn't they have anything to eat?' asked the child, profoundly interested. "'Yes, they had rice, full of worms, and meat that smelt badly,' answered Florein a sombre voice.

"'They had to pick out the worms, to get at the rice, and the meat made the mill.' "'But I should sooner have eaten dry bread,' said the child contemplatively. "'Leon, having finished his chopping, put the platter containing the sausage meat on the table.' montaigne was obliged to move which he did with a very bad grace lisa made no attempt to conceal the disgust she felt the worms in the rice and the ill-smelling meat seemed in her eyes to dishonor the man who had been compelled to eat them there was almost a look of terror in her fair face as she contemplated the man who had been exposed to such horrors it was not certainly a delightful spot in which to reside said floren forgetting the child on his knee and speaking with intense bitterness each day there were new vexations new violations of justice new contempt for all human decency and charity which exasperated the prisoners to a fever of vindictive rancor they lived like wild beast in a cage with the whip constantly upheld over them such sufferings cannot be forgiven nor yet forgotten his voice dropped and the lard and the onions sizzled gaily but lisa was startled at the ferocious expression of his countenance and wondered if all his gentleness were altogether feigned,

and if he were a hypocrite after all. But this fierce intonation in Florein's voice was delightful to Pauline. She gave a frantic jump on her cousin's knee. But the man, cousin, tell me about the man. Florent looked down at the little one and smiled sadly. The man, he said, did not like the island, and he determined to cross the sea

to reach the land which could be seen on fair days. But this was not so easy, for he must build a raft, and where was he to get any wood? The island was fairly stripped, and baked in the hot sun, for all the trees had been cut down for the use of the prisoners. The man finally determined to use the logs of which their huts were constructed, and one evening he and two of his comrades started forth. The wind blew them straight where they wished to go. Day was breaking when their poor raft ran on a sandbank,

and came to pieces. The three poor fellows were in the sand up to their waists, and finally one went down to his chin, and the others pulled him out. With infinite difficulty they reached a rock, where they had barely placed to sit. When the sun rose, they saw opposite them a line of bleak rocks. Two, who could swim, determined to make an effort to reach these rocks. They preferred to drown rather than die of starvation. They promised their companion that if they lived, they would return for him with a boat. Ah, now I know, cried Pauline, clapping her hands. You have got to my story of the gentleman who was eaten by beasts.

They reached the rocks, continued Florent, but they were deserted, and they found no boat for four days. When they went back to the sandbank, they found their companion lying there with his feet and hands devoured, his intestines eaten away, and the cavity occupied by crabs which were eating their way all through the body. Lisa and Augustine uttered an exclamation of loathing. Lyon, who was cutting some thin slivers of pork for the pudding, made a hideous face. August and Kenu were positively ill.

Pauline laughed vociferously. Give me that blood, cried Kenu at last. Auguste brought it, and poured it slowly into the pot, while Canoe stirred vigorously, and when it was all in, took down some spices, the odor of which filled the kitchen. They left in there, of course, said Lisa, and how did they get away? As they came, of course, answered Florent, but the wind rose and the waves were something terrible. The water washed over them, and they emptied the boat with their hands. This lasted for three days, and they had not one mouthful to eat.

Three days, cried Lisa, starving for three days. Yes, and when the wind at last changed and drove them to the shift. shore, one was so worn out that he died in a few hours. His companions tried to make him eat the leaves of the trees as they did themselves. Here, Augustine laughed, and then in her confusion, unwilling that they should think her heart-hearted, she stammered. It was not at that, madame, I laughed. It was at Montaigne.

Look at him, madame. Lisa laughed in her turn. Monton had gotten up, stretched his lazy length, and then began to scratch the table furiously, as if he wished to cover up the platter of sausage meat. He then leisurely turned around, and lay down with half-shut eyes. Then everybody praised Montaigne. Everybody said that he never stole a mouthful. And Pauline told how after dinner he always licked her fingers.

Lisa came back to the question of how a man could live three days without eating. I do not believe it, she said. It is utterly impossible. I often hear that such and such a person is starving, but it is her mere façonde parley. Everybody eats more or less. There may of course be occasionally some.

She was about to say some poor wretch, but she checked herself as she looked at Florent. Her eyes clearly said, however, that only utterly disreputable persons could ever be exposed to such contingencies. Laurent felt as if he were

choking. The heat of the room was intense and the smell of cooking overpowering. When the man had buried his comrade in the sand, resumed Florent, he went away all alone. Dutch Guyana, where he was, is a country of forests and rivers. The man wandered about for a week

without seeing a human being. He dared not eat the glowing fruits he saw, for he felt they were poisonous. For entire days he walked under an arch of thickly interwoven branches, with never a gleam of the blue sky above. The green shadow were full of terror.

Great birds flew over his head with a rush of wings, and sudden cries like agonized shrieks. Monkeys chattered above his head or leaped from branch to branch. Serpents glided among the dry leaves, and he saw slender heads and forked tongues among the monstrous roots.

Certain damp corners were heaped high with moving things, black, yellow, brown like dead leaves, who disappeared with a rustle as he drew near. His nights were full of horror, and he felt stifled among all the trees. The heat, aggravated by the dampness, was intolerable. At last, he beheld the sky again, and stood on the margin of a broad river. Huge crocodiles bathed in the sun, but even these were more reassuring than the forest he had passed through.

He succeeded in getting across the river, only to find almost impassable forests again. Then came grassy plains with rank vegetation. Then a marsh in which he sank to his chin. The moon was rising, and after struggling out of the mud, he lay for an hour or two without moving. When, at last, he reached a habitation, he was so pitiable a sight that everyone was afraid of him. They threw him something to eat,

but the master of the house guarded his door with a gun. Laurent's voice broke. He looked about him. Pauline had fallen asleep after many efforts to keep her eyes open. Cunieu had lost his temper. Don't you know how to hold a gut? he cried to Leone. Will you never learn? Now, stand steady. Leon, with his right hand, raised a long, empty gut

in the end of which a wide funnel had been placed. Kunu filled the gut and pressed in the mixture he had prepared, tied strings around both ends and dropped it into the pot. Lisa looked on with great interest at this operation, and her husband sighed with relief that his labours were at last over and the man the man murmured little pauline opening her eyes in surprise missing the sounds of her cousin's voice floren rocked her on his knee and went on as if he were an old nurse and then the man got to a great town where he was at first supposed to be an escaped convict and was put in prison for several months when he was released he tried to find employment He taught children to read, and did any little things he could. This man was determined to go home to his own country,

and had saved his money for that, when he was taken down by yellow fever. They thought him dead, and they divided his clothes, and when he was better, he had not a shirt to put on. He was compelled to begin at the beginning. The man was very sick, but he got better, the man got well, and the man got away. floren's voice grew lower and lower and at last became inaudible though his pale lips continued to move pauline still slept lulled by his voice and her head rested on the shoulder of her cousin who held her in his arms and rocked her to and fro in a sweet and tender sort of way it was time now for kenu to take out the puddings this he did with a stick and carried them one by one into the courtyard where he hung them all up to dry leon helped him holding the ends of the puddings when they were very long

The steam coming from the kettles which keneu had left uncovered filled the kitchen, and Lisa and Augustine were as oppressed as if they had eaten too hearty a meal. Augustine carried Pauline upstairs. Kenu, who liked to shut up the kitchen himself, dismissed August and Leon. The apprentice went off sulkily, for he had stolen half a yard of pudding which he intended to broil. Then the Kenu's and Florent remained alone and silent. Lisa ate a mouthful or two of the pudding. It is good, she said, excellent. I wonder what La Normand will say about this.

Someone knocked and Gabbard came in. He always remained with Monsieur Le Bigre until midnight. He had now come for a positive reply in regard to the position he had obtained for Florein. Monsieur Valoc, he said, can wait no longer. He is really too ill. Florent must decide. I have promised an answer tomorrow.

at an early hour. Florent accepts, said Lisa quietly, taking another nibble at her pudding. Florein in vain tried to protest. No, no, continued Lisa. You have suffered enough, my dear Florent. You make me shudder when you tell such terrible stories. It is time that you settle down.

You belong to an honorable family. You have received a good education, and it really is not proper to roam the streets like a beggar. You are too old for such childishness. You have sown your wild oats, and they are forgotten and forgiven. You must return to the position to which you were entitled, and live like the rest of us. Florent listened, but in his astonishment, could not find a word to say. She was right, of course.

How could she be otherwise, this woman with her healthy, tranquil face? He, of course, was the one in the wrong? He, with his bent figure and emaciated countenance. He wondered even that he had dreamed of resistance. But she continued lecturing him in a maternal fashion, and bringing forward the most convincing arguments. "'Do this for us, Florein,' she said. "'We are looked up to here in the Cartier, and I am afraid that people are beginning to chatter.

This place will make them hold their tongues, and you will be an honor to us.' She became caressing. A gentle lassitude took possession of Florent. He was weighed down, so to speak, by the substantial odors with which the air of the kitchen was laden. He was carried away by the comfort and plenitude of the life he had lived for the last fortnight, and the bitterness he had felt, his keen indignation and burning desire for vengeance were smouldering. He seemed to have no other aim than to spend a series of just such evenings all through life. But it was Monton, after all, who turned the scales.

Monton slept so profoundly with his tail curled up against his back and looked so deliciously happy, that Florent murmured as he looked at him. And, why not, after all? I accept, Gavar. Yes, I accept. Then Lisa finished her pudding and dried her fingers. She lighted a candle for her brother-in-law, and stood with it in her hand,

the light falling on her lovely face, which had all the tranquillity of a sacred cow. End of Chapter 2. Chapter 3 Part 1 of the Markets of Paris by Emil Zola. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Chapter 3 The Handsome Fishwoman, Part 1 Three days later, and all was arranged. The city government accepted the temporary substitute offered by Monsieur Valoc without question.

When Florent first presented himself at the Prefecture, Gavard volunteered to go with him, and when he was with Floreen again in the street, he gave the latter several Jaco's digs in the side and winked impetuously. the policeman all seemed to him a huge joke, for as he passed them, he drew down the corners of his mouth as if it were with difficulty that he repressed a laugh. The next day, Monsieur Valoc initiated his successor in the details of his duties, and for several mornings guided him through the turbulent little world wherein he was now to spend his days. This poor Valoc, as Gavar called him, was a small, sickly-looking man with a perpetual cough, wrapped up in flannel and with a silk handkerchief around.

his throat, he tottered about the markets with the aid of a cane. The first morning Florent was literally deafened by the noise. Around the auction, benches crowded the retail dealers, while the employees arrived with their registers and the agents of the shippers, carrying huge leather bags over their shoulders, sat waiting with their chairs tipped up on their back legs against the wall. The fish was unpacked in the little enclosure, while along the sidewalk there were perpetual arrivals of small installments,

bags dripping with water were perpetually pitched down. Men were hastily tearing off the straw from the crates and emptying them, and rearranging the contents on the shallow baskets in the most advantageous manner. It seemed to Florent that a whole school of fish had backed up against the wall.

Their shining scales and pearly oysters in violet-tinted mussels recalled all the soft tints of the ocean. The sea had given up all its treasures, cod, swordfish, place, mudfish of a dirty gray with white spots. Eels deep blue in tone with narrow black eyes. Skates, whose white bellies were bordered with pale pink, and along the back of which, on the protruding spine, up to the gills, were dashes of cinnabar, striped with Florentine

bronze, and fading off into the dark brown of a toad. Houndfish, with their horrible heads, their mouths huge like Chinese idols, their short wings, like those of bats, monsters who guard marine grottoes. At last came the fine handsome fish, each alone on an osier tray. Salmon of rosy silver, every scale of which looked as if touched by a graver's tool. Mullets with larger scales.

Turbets and brills, white and firm as curdled milk. Tunnies smooth and varnished like black leather. Souls painted on all sides grey and white, herring with their bloody gills, fat goldfish spotted with carmine, while mackerel, their backs marked with brownish green and their bellies like mother of pearl

lay with heads all toward the center of the basket. There were also sir mullets red-dashed with brown. Boxes of whiting, reflecting the light like opals. Baskets of smelts, clean little baskets as pretty as baskets of strawberries. Rosie shrimp, gray prawns, lobsters spotted with black, still living, and reaching out their claws. in a helpless sort of fashion.

Florein listened to the explanations of Monsieur Valoc. A streak of sunshine came athwart the scene, lighting up all the lovely hues of these strange creatures. It was as if some sea-nymph had opened all her jewel caskets and thrown them pell-mell on the ground. Necklaces and bracelets, fantastic ornaments of all kinds, heaped in one rich mass. But Floreen caught a breath of the salt sea

with which he was familiar. He remembered that long, Guyana Coast. He remembered a bay where, at low tide, the seaweeds lay uncovered, and smoked in the sunshine when the high rocks were drying, and the wind blew strong from over the sea toward him. The fresh fish exhaled the same keen smell. Mr. Valloc coughed. The dampness struck to his lungs, and he pulled the handkerchief over his mouth. Now, he said, we will go on to the fresh water fish. This was the last toward the rue Rambuto, where stood in. immense tanks supplied by faucets with fresh water in slender threads.

In each tank there was a moving mass. Here, Monsieur Valoc coughed more. The dampness was as great, but there was a smell of moisture and of wet earth. The amount of crabs from Germany in boxes and baskets was very large that morning, while fish from Holland and England overcrowded the market. There were carp from the Rhine, which were beautiful, with their bronze metallic glitter and scales like cuissoners and air. camel. Huge pike, those brigands of the river, in their steel-gray garb,

tench, somber and magnificent, like red coppers spotted with their degree. There were trout and white bait. Large baskets of young carp were being emptied into the tank. The fish turned over, lay still a moment, and then swam gaily off. Bags of small eels were turned out, falling in one huge, solid mass, while the bigger ones disentangled themselves, and and slipped away with the supple movements of an adder hiding among the bushes. Fish were lying on the flat osier baskets who had been slowly dying ever since the morning.

They gasped and opened their mouths as if to drink in all the humidity of the air while their sides shook with an occasional hiccough. Meanwhile, Monsieur Valoc took Florent further on all the time talking and giving him the needed information. The crowd around the wire enclosures were sat the employees with their registers on highest tours was rapidly

becoming more dense. Florent was taken within one of these wire enclosures, where sat the agent of the municipal custom house, making entries in a huge book. Lower down, there were two women writing at their small desks. They kept the tallies. The cashier

was a stout woman who had piles of silver and copper before her. There are two controllers here, said Valoc, one representing the prefecture of the Sen, the other that of the prefecture of the police. The latter, nominates the factors and pretends to oversee them. The administration of the city affects only

those transactions on which they levy attacks. He continued to talk in his little cold voice and had much to say of the quarrels of these two officials. Lorin did not listen. He was looking at a woman who sat at one of the desks. She was a brunette about thirty with a dignified, handsome face. She was writing and held her pen like a lady. He at that moment heard the crier who held up magnificent turbot. Thirty francs, he said. Thirty francs. He repeated these two words in every imaginable tone.

He was a humpback and wore a blue apron. He waved his arms wildly. 31, 32, 32, 50. He stopped to take breath and pushed the Osher basket forward. Some of the fishwomen leaned over and lightly touched the turbot. Then off the man went again, seeing the smallest sign made by a bidder, uplifted eyebrows, parted lips, or a wink. and that was such rapidity that floren who could not follow him was perfectly astonished when the hunchback chanted forty two forty two going at forty two it was la belle normand who made the last bid floren saw her standing in the centre of the row of fishwomen

the morning was cool and there was a great display of big white aprons and stout frames the high chignon and crimps the fresh clean skin of la belle normand made her very conspicuous among the bushy heads with colored handkerchiefs knotted about them, and faces with swollen noses and impudent eyes. She had seen Madame Canoe's cousin and was greatly surprised at his being there. The auctioneer continued to sell the fish while the brunette wrote on rapidly. "'That man is magnificent,' said Monsieur Valloc with a smile. "'He is the best seller in the market. Bless your heart! He would make you buy the soles of his boots for a pair of fish of the same name.'

He said as he passed the tanks of freshwater fish, that if France did not take some act of measures, her rivers and lakes would soon be depopulated. An auctioneer was here selling the eels and crabs by the lot. The crowd grew larger. Valoc did his duty as inspector most conscientiously. He pushed his way through the crowd until he reached the spot where the most rapid bidding was going on.

The larger purchasers were there with their porters, ready to carry away the choice fish they bought. There was also an occasional respectable bourgeois, who, tempted by the prospect of a fresh fish for breakfast, had come down to the market at four o'clock, and, to his great amazement, found himself the unintentional owner of forty or fifty francs' worth of seafood, which, after it was knocked down, he was compelled to entreat his friends to take off his hands. There was no little quarreling among the crowd, and also rude elbowing. Florent last said he had seen enough, and as he emerged from the crowd, he found himself face to face with La Belle Normand.

She said to Monsieur Valoc with her air de rene, "'Then it is quite settled, sir. You leave us, do you?' "'Yes,' answered the little man. "'I am going into the country for a while, to Clamor. And this is the gentleman who takes my place.' The Belle Normand was dumbfounded, and as Florent went away, he thought he heard her say in the year of one of her friends,

"'Now we will have some fun.' Laurent regretted already that he had yielded to Lisa's entreaties. As soon, indeed as he was in the open, air, and shaken himself clear of the sleepy influence of the kitchen, he accused himself of miserable cowardice almost with tears in his eyes. But he dared not retract his promise, for he was a little afraid of Lisa. He had detected a certain compression of the lips which boded ill for him should he venture to do this. Gavard inspired him with an idea that was not without its consolation. He confided to him that Valoc, the poor devil, needed money so much that it would be a real act

of charity to allow him to keep a certain amount of the salary. Florent accepted this proposal with joy. It seemed only right in his eyes. Besides, he really needed so little himself as he slept annette with his brother. Gavar said that from the monthly salary of 150 francs, it would be as well to offer Baloch fifty. It could not be for very long, after all, as the poor man was in a galloping consumption. It was agreed that Florent should make the arrangement with the wife, to avoid hurting Baloch's pride. Florent assented,

but demanded a promise from the poultry-bender that no one should know of this, and as Gavar also stood in wholesome terror of Lisa, he kept the secret in a most meritorious way. At last, every one of the eating-shop was content. La Belle Lisa was more friendly than ever to her brother-in-law. She sent him to bed early that he might wake in season. She gave him a hot breakfast

and was not ashamed to talk with him on the sidewalk, now that he wore an official cap. Kenu was charmed that things were going so smoothly. They sat over their dinner often until nine o'clock, while Augustine was in charge of the counter. During this time, there was much gossip and many positive judgments uttered by the pork merchant and his wife. Flore was questioned about what went on at market,

and he soon began to enjoy the regularity of this dull but comfortable life. But Gavard declared that the Kunue Gradet's interior was too sleepy. He forgave Lisa for her tenderness to the emperor because he said it was foolish ever to talk politics with a woman. He preferred to spend his evenings with Monsieur Le Bigre, where he met friends with opinions, and he insisted on Florein now that he was made Inspector going with him. Monsieur Le Bigre had a fine establishment, with all modern luxuries. It stood at the opposite corner of Larue Pirouette, and was flanked with four small Norway pines in green boxes, and and made a worthy pendant to the eating-house of the Kenugardelles.

The large panes of glass allowed a full view of the interior, papered in pale green, and garlanded with grapevines. The floor was in squares of black and white marble. A winding staircase, curtained with red, led to the billiard room below. But the counter on the right was very imposing with its display of silver. Gas lamps to keep wine and punch hot were at one end, and at the other was a marble fountain much ornamented, from which fell so continuous a stream of water

that it looked almost as if it too were carved. Green bottles were cooling in the water, while whole armies of glasses arranged in different sizes were near at hand. Small ones for brandy, thick goblets, absent glasses, and saucers for brandied fruits. Tall vases served to hold any number of spoons. Generally, Monsieur Le Begris was enthroned behind the can, counter on an armchair covered with red leather.

Close at his hand were liqueurs in decanters of cut glass. Jars of branded fruits, cherries, prunes, and peaches, and between piles of toothsome biscuit, were bottles filled with mysterious liqueurs like extracts from flowers, so delicate with their hues of pale pink and clear yellow. These bottles looked as if they were suspended in the air, as the strong white light of the gas fell upon them. To give to his establishment the air of a air of a café, Monsieur Le Bigre had placed opposite the counter against the wall, two small tables and four chairs.

A chandelier, with five burners and polished globes, hung from the ceiling. A round-face clock was on the left. There was in the rear a private room, which had one window looking on the rue Pirouette. In the evening it was lighted by gas. It was in this secluded retreat that Gavar and his political friends met after their dinner every evening. They considered themselves thoroughly at home there, and no one was ever allowed to usurp their places, or to intrude upon them.

The first day Gavard gave some little account of Monsieur Le Bicker to Florein. He was a good man and an excellent man. They had heard him say that he had suffered in forty-eight. He might seem stupid, but he was not. And these gentlemen, as they passed his counter, gave him a hearty shake of the hand over his glasses and decanters. often by his side sat a little woman, a girl whom he had taken as his assistant.

She was called Rose and was sweet and submissive. Gavard, with a wink, insinuated to Florent, that she carried her submission to a very great length with the proprietor. Nevertheless, all these gentlemen liked to be served by Rose who went in and out as quietly as a shadow, and seemed not to hear a word of their most stormy political discussions. The day that Gavard was to present Florein to his friends, they beheld on entering the private room, an individual of about

fifty, with a doubtful hat and a much-worn brown coat. His chin was resting on an ivory-headed cane, and his mouth was so buried in a full beard that his face seemed destitute of lips. "'How are you, Robine?' asked Gavard. Robine silently extended his hand. He did not speak, and hardly winked. He replaced his chin on his cane, and earnestly inspected Florein, who had sworn Gavard. to secrecy in regard to his story, and was now disposed to believe that this promise had been

broken, and that this gentleman distrusted him. But he was mistaken. Never did Rebin talk more than this. He was always the first to enter the room, and sat invariably in the same corner without once laying down his cane. He sat listening to the others, drinking only the one glass, and that so imperceptibly that it lasted until midnight. When Florent some time later questioned Gavar en Robine. He was told that this person was very shrewd, but no reasons were given and no instances cited of this marvelous shrewdness. It was roundly asserted, however, that he was one of the men of the opposition most dreaded by the government. He lived in La Rue Saint-Dney, but no one was ever known to have entered his rooms. Gavar stoutly asseverated that on one memorable occasion he had done so,

and had seen highly waxed floors and an alabaster clock with columns. Madame Robin, whose back only he had seen as he went in, was very comilful, and wore English curls unless he was greatly mistaken. The menage was a peculiar one. The husband had no business, apparently. He spent his days no one knew where, lived no one knew how, but appeared among them regularly each evening. Have you seen this address from the throne, said Gavard, taking up a journal from the table?

"'Rabin shrugged his shoulders, "'but the door opened wide and a hunchback entered. "'The hunchback from the market. "'A very different-looking person he was now, however. "'Ah, here comes Logre,' said the poultry vendor. "'He will tell us all the news "'in what he thinks of the speech from the throne.' "'But Logre threw down his hat furiously,

"'and as he seated himself, "'gave a pound on the table with his fist. "'Do you think I read their blasted lies?' he cried. "'The hunchback was evidently much, out of humor. He soon found a victim. Rose, Rose, he called, going to the door of the cabinet. And when the young woman appeared, all in a tremble, he said, Why do you stand looking at me? You saw me come in, and yet you do not trouble yourself to see what I want. Rose, humbly apologized, received the orders from Lager and the other two men who soon had

their glasses at their side. Where is Chavez? said one. Waiting for Climence outside, was the reply. but charvet appeared he was a tall bony fellow who lived near the luxembourg his hair was long and thrown back from his forehead he talked with a rapid flow of words which were so long and so erudite that his adversaries were generally floored gava was afraid of him though he would not acknowledge it even to himself and always said when charvet was not there that he was utterly unendurable robin approved all that was said only with his eyelids l'ogre was the only one in the little group who ventured to argue with this authoritative personage he and clement had lived together as man and wife for ten years and as floren looked at the young woman he at last remembered where he had seen her she was the brunette whom he had seen writing in the fish market rose appeared on the heels of the newcomers she placed a glass before clemence also a plate with a lemon cut in halves clemence mixed her glass of grog herself pressing the lemon with a spoon and holding the decanter of rum up to the light to see that she did not take too much.

Gavar presented Floreant to these gentlemen with an especial recommendation to Charvet. He said that they were both clever men who would understand each other. They all shook hands with the newcomer in a peculiar sort of way, suggestive of the Masonic grip. Charvet showed himself quite amiable. Have you received your pay today? asked Lugre of Clements. She said,

yes and opened her pocket-book and showed it to him full of silver we must settle our accounts he said in a low voice certainly to-night i have breakfasted with you four times but then you know i lent you five francs last week floren in surprise turned away his head lest he should hear what was not intended for him clement sipped her glass and leaned back against the wall and listened to the men talking politics Gavar took up the paper and read in a manner which he attempted to make comic disjointed fragments from the speech from the throne, spoken that morning at the opening of the chambers. One phrase amused him excessively. We are confident, gentlemen, relying as we do on your enlightened views, and on the conservative sentiments of the country, that we shall see the daily growth of public prosperity. Logre repeated this phrase and even imitated the nasal twang of the emperor. prosperity is a very nice thing said charvet but there is a good deal of starvation nowadays business is at a standstill muttered gavar the discussion grew quite violent the legislative body was handled without gloves l'gre became quite excited stood up and gesticulated in much the same attitude in which he stood in the market and sold off a fine turbot charvet was quite reserved and smoked his pipe steadily when he did speak his voice rang through the room

Robein nodded an assent without taking his chin from the ivory of his gain. Finally, the conversation turned upon women. Women, said Chavez, are the equals of men. There should be consequently no inseparable bonds to bind them together. It should be a mere business partnership. You agree with me, Climence? Evidently, she answered, with her head against the wall and her eyes half closed. Florence saw, through the half-open door, Memoiselle said,

at the counter. She had drawn a bottle from under her apron and watched Rose as the latter filled it with a mixture of raspberry cordial and brandy. The bottle was handed to Mademoiselle Sajé, who then quickly concealed it under her apron and lingered to chat a little. The establishment that night was especially brilliant, and the old maid in her scanty black skirts was a strange blemish on the scene. Florent fancied she had seen him for ever since he had first entered the hall, she had been on his heels. He had often seen her with Madame Lecair or La Sariette watching him stealthily. His appointment as inspector seemed to astonish these women greatly. Memoiselle Sagesse said a few words to Rose, and then turned to a table near the

door of the private room where Monsieur Le Beagle was playing Piquet with a customer. "'Shut the door, Florent,' said Gavard roughly, who detested the old maid. Lackay, who had joined the group, meekly obeyed. At midnight, when the conference broke up, La Caye said a few words in a low voice to Le Bigre, who, as he shook hands with him, slipped four or five franc pieces into his hand and whispered, You know, it is twenty-two francs to-morrow.

Do not forget also that you owe three days for the carriage. Let everything be paid up. Monsieur Le Bigre wished these gentlemen good-night. He was sleepy, he said, and his yawn disclosed his strong white teeth. He bad rose put out the gas in the private room and turned away. Gavard was a little tipsy and stumbled as he went out. Florent left him at his own door and went up to his attic which he had learned to like very much. Augustine's presence still lingered in the room.

On the chimney were a hairpin or two, a box of gilt pasteboard containing buttons and pastels, an empty pomade pot which smelt of jasmine. In the table drawer were a prayer book, some needles and pins. a spool of cotton, also a tumbled copy of a key to dreams. A summer dress, white with yellow spots, hung on a nail behind the door, while on the board, which did duty as a washstand

behind the water pitcher, was a dark spot where a bottle of bandoline had been tipped over. Laurent was amused by the childishness of the key to dreams and the guilt boxes. They took him back to his own youth. He forgot Augustine and fancied himself occupying the room of a dear sister.

who had left behind her something of her feminine presence. He liked, too, to lean out of the window of his attic. To this window was attached a narrow balcony with iron railings, where Augustine had kept a box of flowers, which Florent, now that the knights had grown chilly, took into the house. He would remain for an hour or more looking out and enjoying the fresh air, which came from the seine over the houses in La Rue de Rivoli.

Below were the confused masses of the market roofs, above a broad glimpse of the open sky. Here, he thought, with mingled pain and pleasure, of the despairing years he had spent out of France. At last, with a shiver, he would close his window, and as he took off his coat, feel that the eyes of the photographs

of August and Augustine were following his every movement. The first weeks of Florence's new employment were very painful. He found a certain covert hostility. La Belle Normand had sworn to a bed venture herself on La Belle Lisa, and the cousin was a good opportunity. The Mahoudon's had come from Rouen. The old mother still told how she arrived in Paris with a few eels in a basket.

She married an employee at the custom house who died, leaving her the mother of two little girls. It was she who, by her full figure and resplendent skin, had won the title of La Belle Normand, which her daughter had inherited. The old woman had grown immensely stout and had never renounced the fashions of her youth. She still wore a dress of large, figured material, and a yellow fichu, the traditional costume of fishwoman,

and had also preserved the loud voice and arms akimbo, and had the slang of the fish market at the end of her tongue. She mourned over the loss of the Marche des Innocent, spoke of the former rights of the Dame de Hall, and told of visits paid to the market by the court in the reign of Charles X and of Louis-Philippe, the ladies in silk dresses, and with flowers in their hands. Mother Mejudan, as she was called, had been for a long time the bearer of the banner

in the association of the Virgin. In the processions in the church she wore a tool cap with satin ribbons and held aloft with her swollen hands the golden standard, from which floated a richly figured flag on which was embroidered, a virgin. Mother Mahoudon, it was rumored, had made a great fortune. The two sisters were not especially good friends. The youngest, Claire, an indolent blonde, had many complaints to make of her sister Louise. The mother surrendered her own stall to Louise and installed Claire among the freshwater fish,

and although she called herself out of the business, she wandered about the markets all day. Claire was a whimsical creature, very gentle, and yet always in a quarrel with those about her. She was quietly obstinate and willful, with her. not the smallest idea of justice. She often revolutionized the market, making the prices higher or lower as she pleased, without being able to say why herself. She was nearly thirty, and was beginning to grow a little heavy, but at twenty-two she looked as Claude Blanche had said like a murillo, and a most untidy Murillo, too, with her slipshod shoes, and her dress got as if by a hatchet. She was not in the least coquettish, and was indeed quite contemptuous when

Louise appeared in her ribbons. It was said that the son of a rich bookseller in the Cartier had gone to a foreign land in despair at not being able to obtain a good word from her. Louise, La Belle Normand, was much more tender-hearted. She was on the point of marrying an employee in the wheat market, when the poor fellow's back was broken by the fall of a load of flower. Nevertheless, she had a child some few months later and was politely spoken of as a widow. The old fishwoman often said, when my son-in-law was living,

these Mahoudans were a power in the hall. When Monsieur Valoc had given Florent every possible aid, he gently intimated that he must manage several among the market women if he wished to live in peace. He even suggested that an occasional little present would be by no means amiss. An inspector is both a police officer and a justice of the peace, keeping order, and conciliating the differences arising between purchaser and seller. Florent, unfitted by nature to play this role, went too far whenever he exercised his authority, and then, too, his constrained manner and sad face were much against him. The tactics of La Belle Normand was to draw him into some quarrel, as she had sworn that

he should not keep his position a fortnight. If that fat Lisa thinks we are going to take up with her leaving she is greatly mistaken. The man is hideous. We have more taste than she. After the morning's auctions, when Florent went through the markets, he saw perfectly well that La Belle Normand wished to insult him. When he passed her stall, she laughed immoderately, and generally turned the water from the faucets over the alley.

Florent pretended not to see or hear. One morning, however, war was declared. That day, when Florent reached the stall occupied by La Belle Normand, he perceived a most intolerable odor. He saw fine salmon, rosy perch, turbots as white as cream, mullets and souls, and among these fish, whose eyes were still bright, was a large skate, which was putrid and the flesh falling from the bones. That skate must be thrown away, said Florent going up to the stall.

La Belle Normand laughed insolently. He looked at her. Never had he seen her so gorgeous. She seemed unusually tall as she stood on a box to protect her feet from the dampness. her hair was carefully dressed and a gold chain hung over her breast and long gold rings from her ears he repeated quietly this skate cannot remain here he had not noticed mother mahoudan who was sitting on a chair in the corner she rose and coming forward she leaned with her hands on the marble slab and why said she why should she throw this fish away will you pay her for it end of chapter three part one chapter three part two of the markets of paris by emil zola this librivox recording is in the public domain the handsome fishwoman part two then floren saw that he was in for it and realized that a spirit of insubordination was let loose among these people he controlled himself beckoned to one of the porters who carried the barrow for refuse picked up the skate himself and threw it in

mother mohoudon put her arms a kimbo with a defiant air and la belle normand laughed again as floren walked away each day there was a new invention the inspector was obliged to watch what was going on about him as if he had been in an enemy's land one morning when he ran to separate two women who were quarrelling he was near receiving full in his face a quantity of small fish which were certainly thrown at him he at once concluded that the quarrel was a farce acted for the benefit of La Belle Normand, who sneered aloud. His old training as a teacher armed him with angelic patience. He knew how to preserve an appearance of impassibility, even when he was boiling with indignation. But none of his pupils were as ferocious as these women, whose enormous bust shook with laughter when he was taken in some new snare.

Gavard would have enjoyed all this and would have fought his way through in triumph, but Florent was always more or less intimidated by women, and the rough coarseness of these especial ones was intensely disagreeable to him. He had one friend among them all, and this was Claire. She declared that she liked the new inspector and greeted him always with a cordial smile.

He very often saw her with her blonde hair curling on her neck and on her temples, and her skirts carelessly tucked up as she dabbled in her tanks and gave fresh water to her fish. He always thought of pictures he had seen of bathers on a riverside with their clothes loosely huddled about them.

one morning she was particularly amiable she called the inspector to see an enormous eel that had astonished the whole market she lifted the grating she had prudently laid over the top of the tank at the bottom of which the eel seemed to sleep wait a moment she said i will show you she softly put her arm in an arm that was a little thin on which the blue veins stood out on the satiny skin when the eel was touched it rolled over claire said she had always been afraid of eels and could never bear to touch them, but now she had learned to hold them so they could not slip away, and she leaned over the tank and let the water drip from her fingers. "'I must show you my carp,' she said suddenly, and opening another tank she lifted out a superb creature. "'They do not bite,' she said with her sweet smile, "'but I am afraid of crabs.'

As she said this she took from a box nearby a crab. But, cautious as she was, the creature evidently took a stronger nip than she anticipated, for she grew very red and broke off the claw angrily, although she did not cease to smile. I would never trust a pike, though, they will take off your fingers as if with a knife. And she pointed to a long row of pike arranged by their sizes. The air was full of odors like those rising from a pond

wherein grow water lilies in tall reeds. She dried her hands on her apron and smiled again. Claire's sympathy was but a small consolation to Florent, for it only attracted a great deal of observation, and caused many disagreeable remarks whenever he stopped near her stall. The revolt in the market became each day more decided. Florein would have left the market, but for his fear of seeming a coward in Lisa's eyes. I would soon bring them to their senses, said she one day after dinner.

You are wrong to be so mild, Florent. Take a decided step, and he will soon bring them to terms. One morning, Madame Tabodo's cook was in the fish market looking for a barble. "'Come and see me,' said La Belle Normand, "'and I can find you something.' "'Just lift that,' she continued, "'laying in the woman's hand a barble wrapped in yellow paper. "'The servant regretfully said,

"'but how much is it?' "'Fifteen francs,' answered the fishwoman. "'The servant laid the fish down and turned away. "'What will you give, then? Name your price.' "'No, no, it is too dear. "'I can't give more than eight francs.' "'Then Mother Mahoudon came to the four. did the woman think they had stolen their fish and la belle normand turned away her head the woman came back and offered nine and then ten francs and as she was going away for good la belle namand called out well then give me the money

the cook stood talking with mother mahoudon madame taburo was so particular she had company to dinner that day a cousin from blois a lawyer and his wife you are going to clean that fish are you not she said interrupting herself la belle normand emptied the fish with one quick movement of her fingers wiped the sand out under the grills and laid the fish on the cook's basket there now she said galey you are all right in fifteen minutes the cook was back She had been crying. She threw the fish on the marble slab, showing a great tear in the belly. A flood of tears choked her words. Madame Taburo won't have it. She says she can't use it, and that I am a fool who allows myself to be robbed by everybody. I did not turn it over.

I trusted you. Give me back my ten francs. Mother Mahoudan rose in her wrath. Do you think, she said that we shall take it back? You must have let the fish fall. the servant burst into tears you are two thieves she sobbed just as my mistress said the mother and daughter were furious and the little cook sobbed still harder your mistress would like us to mend this for her i suppose sneered la belle normand floren arrived in the height of the squirrel which had attracted all the women from the various stalls as soon as he heard the story he promptly said give back the ten francs to this woman but mother mahoudan men to go to the length of her rope.

Of course, she cried, and this is the way I shall give them to her. And the old woman flung the fish full in the little cook's face. This was too much for Florent. Even La Belle Normand was thunderstruck as he exclaimed. I shall withdraw your permit for a week. And as he heard a loud hiss behind him, he turned with so threatening an air

that even La Belle Normand was afraid and recoiled. When the Mahoudance had returned the ten francs, he closed the stall. The old woman was choking with rage while her daughter was cold and white. Could it be possible that she, La Belle Normand, was ignominiously turned out of her stall? Claire said, quite audibly,

that it served her right, which led to a fierce quarrel that night between the two sisters. At the end of a week, when the Mahoutans returned to the market, they were very quiet and silent. But from this time, La Belle Normand, cherish the hope of some terrible revenge.

She felt that the blow came to her through Lisa, who had given her so triumphant a glance the day after the battle, that her rival swore she should pay dearly for it. Her child was growing up in the fish market, at home in every corner of it, and among the shining mackerel and perch. His favorite amusement when his mother's back was turned was to build walls and houses with the herring.

He also drew them up in a line of battle on the marble slab, imitated a trumpet with his lips, and then pushed them all together in a pile, crying out that they were dead. Then he tormented his aunt Claire and did his best to drown himself in her tank. At seven he was the idol of the fish market and did precisely as he pleased. When they showed him something which he considered absolutely entrancing, he would clasp his hands and say, Ah, it is too much!

And the name of much clung to him. Much was here, much was there. and everywhere. He loved the running water like any fish, and paddled about in it all the time, often stealthily opening a faucet, overjoyed at the spurting forth of the water. And his mother would pick him up many times in the day, wet through and through, and blew with cold. Much, at seven, was as beautiful a child as was ever seen. His chestnut hair lightly waved. His eyes were as blue as forget-me-nots. All the frightful language of the hall fell naturally from the lips which looks so pure.

He would put his arms akimbo and imitate his grandmother to perfection, all the time looking like the smiling Christ on the knees of the Virgin. The fishwoman nearly killed themselves laughing, and he, thus encouraged, generally wound up his sentences with an oath. But he was charming,

because he was ignorant of the enormity of the words he uttered. Winter came. Much was very chilly that year, and took a great fancy to the inspector's office, which was furnished with a table and iron safe, a sofa, two armchairs, and a stove. It was by this stove that much delighted to establish himself.

Florein adored children, and whenever he saw the boy wistfully looking through the window, he bade him enter. The first words uttered by much astonished him somewhat. It is devilish-cold, he said in his baby voice, and then with a laugh which sounded like water running out of a narrow-necked bottle, he added. Do you really go everywhere? night to warm my Aunt Claire's feet?" Florent found a strange fascination in this child.

La Belle Normand did not interfere, although she was herself very reserved, and Florent cherished the idea, finally, of bringing the little fellow up in a better way. He fancied himself back again with his brother Kenu in the old room in the rue Roye Collar. He found infinite pleasure in the companionship of this young creature,

to whom he taught the alphabet at once. Much showed the quick intelligence of the child of Parisian streets. He liked to look at pictures. He liked the warmth of the stove on which he could roast potatoes and chestnuts. But of this last he soon wearied, and he stole from his Aunt Clare white bait, which he hung on a string and ate when roasted without bread. One day he brought a carp,

but this was too much for Florent who put an end to the cooking. At the end of two months, much could read, and his copy-book was by no means bad. in the evening at home the child talked incessantly of his dear friend floren who could draw trees and men in huts the normand therefore lived so to speak in the intimate companionship of the man whom she would gladly have strangled she went so far one day as to lock much in that he might not go to his friends but the child wailed so vociferously that she was glad to let him out she was in reality anything but firm in spite of her determined airs and when the child told her how happy he had been, she felt a vague sensation of gratitude. And later she was more moved when he read to her a paragraph from a newspaper, which had wrapped a loaf of bread, and by degrees she came to the conclusion,

though she did not say so, that perhaps Florent was not such a bad man after all. She felt for him a certain respect and no small curiosity. She therefore suddenly decided that it would be much better fun to be amiable to the cousin than to quarrel. with him, and would make the fat Lisa much matter. What does your friend say of me? She asked much one morning as she was dressing him. Nothing at all. Well then, tell him I am much obliged for his teaching you to read.

Henceforward, the child always had a message to carry from the inspector to his mother, or from his mother to the inspector. Le Belle Normand walked into the inspector's office one day while much was taking his writing lesson. She was very gentle and very complimentary, while Florein was far more embarrassed than she. They talked only of the child. As there was some difficulty in continuing the lessons at the office, she asked him to come to her in the evening. Then there was some question on her part of remuneration, which he promptly refused.

She laughed and said that she should pay with her finest fish then. Thus was peace established. La Belle Normand even took Florein under her. protection. The inspector was accepted from that moment in the market. The fishwoman saying that he was far better than his predecessor. Mother Mahoudan was the only one who rebelled under this new dispensation. She still retained malice against this man, at whom she spoke in the most contemptuous terms.

One morning when Florence stopped at Claire's stall, she turned away petulantly and would not speak to him. He was so surprised that he spoke of it to La Belle Normand. "'Never mind,' she said. "'Clair is always contrary, "'and does this only to make me angry.' "'She had triumphed, "'and went to her stall each day

"'more coquettish in her costume "'and with her hair more elaborately dressed. "'When she met La Belle Lisa, "'she looked at her with disdain. "'She even laughed in her face. "'The certainty she felt "'of annoying her old friend "'by taking away the cousin

"'put her in the best of spirits. "'At this time she took it into her head to dress much with more care in scotch plaids and a velvet cap, for much had gone about in rags. Unfortunately, it was about this time that the affection of much for water developed itself more strongly. The ice had broken, the weather was warmer, and he took his usual bath from the faucets arrayed in his new garments. His mother surprised him just as he had placed some small fish which he had stolen from his Aunt Clare in his velvet cap, and sent them swimming down the gutter. floren lived eight months in the hall these eight months after his seven long years of suffering were as a peaceful slumber his simple little office pleased him with its quiet and solitude

but after those eight months had elapsed he became a little restless he was filled with a vague dissatisfaction at the emptiness of his existence and this dissatisfaction was rapidly growing into a certain nervous excitement every day was like its fellow he was surrounded by the same odors and by the same noises. Through the hoarse cries of the auctioneers in the market, he heard the ringing of the distant bells. Sometimes he was detained in the markets until noon, arranging the endless quarrels and disputes. He saw huge baskets of cooked lobsters and gloved gentlemen lightly touching them.

Further on were the women of the Cartier, bareheaded, bargaining for their fish. Sometimes he caught sight of a lady followed by a servant in her long white apron. His inspection always ended at the stalls which displayed the herring and the sardines from Nantes on their beds of green leaves. In the afternoon the markets were quiet

and he shut himself up in his office and enjoyed the most agreeable hours of the day. The fishwoman sat knitting behind their counters, waiting on an occasional customer who came late, hoping for a better bargain. When night came, the fish were all put away on beds of ice. Then Florein was free to go home. He carried away with his.

him the smell of the fish in his clothing. At first he did not suffer from this, but as the spring came in, it became very disagreeable to him, and in time the smell from the fish market grew absolutely insupportable. It seemed to him that he was haunted by the smell of food in his home as well as in his office. It followed him through closed doors and windows. Sometimes in his restlessness, he went down the wide stairs into the cellars, dimly lighted by gas where the air, though a little close, was cool and uncontaminated by the smell which was especially obnoxious to him. He stood by the side of the great tank in which the supplies of fish were held in reserve. He listened to the incessant soft drip of water falling from the four corners of the central urn,

and this noise calmed him. He was not at home either with the people. Their roughness called him. The women worried him. He was only at ease with Madame Francois. She was so heartily glad, as having found a situation that he was quite touched. Lisa and La Belle Normand made him uncomfortable with their laughs and significant looks, but Madame Francois was different. She laughed, too, but her laugh was sympathetic. Besides, she was a courageous creature

and bore her hard life well. Florence saw her struggling through the storm just at daybreak with the wheels of her wagon covered with mud up to the hubs, and Balthazar's very belly encrusted from the heavy roads between Nantere and Paris. the animal was always caressed and pitied rubbed off with straw and polished down with an old apron we have to be careful about collics she said ah poor old baltazar when we came over the bridge at nighi you thought you were going down into the seine did you not it poured then baltazza went to the inn but she poor woman sat in the rain and sold her vegetables the sidewalk was a sea of liquid mud

the vegetables had none of the beauty that was theirs on sunny mornings and the vendor swore at the administration which refused to build them a roof on the ground that rain did not hurt vegetables no matter how merciless the rain might be however never did florence find madame francois out of temper or discouraged she shook herself occasionally like a water-dog and said she was neither sugar nor salt and should not melt he insisted sometimes on her going into le bigres where they drank some hot wine her friendly face enchanted him and the smell of the woods and fields which hung about her refreshed him you must come to nantes my boy she said you must see my kitchen garden never did you behold such time as mine and never did i smell anything so nasty as your paris and off she went with the water dripping from her at every step leaving florence cheered and encouraged he worked hard as in this way he kept within bounds the nervous energy which was his characteristic he was also very methodical and he shut himself up two evenings in the week to write his great work on cayenne he lighted his fire saw that the plants at the foot of his bed were sheltered from its heat and seating himself at his table worked until midnight he had pushed the prayer-book to the back of the drawer which had become full by degrees of notes and slips of paper and all sorts of manuscript the work on cayenne made no rapid advance as it was constantly interfered with by other projects he had in his mind a plan which would revolutionize the hal a new way of estimating the taxes and finally another plan as yet a little confused in detail a humanitarian law by which a certain amount of the vast supply of food which poured daily into paris would find its way to every household with bowed head he bent over his work in the

soft subdued light of his attic. Occasionally, a chaffinch, which he had picked up one snowy day in the market, deluded by the idea that the light meant morning, would utter a few clear notes. This and his pen running over the paper were the only sounds in the room. Unfortunately, Floreen hankered after politics. They had cost him so dearly that they naturally became most precious to him. He, under certain circumstances, would have become a teacher in some little provincial town and been quite happy in his mitye.

But he had been treated like a wild beast, and he looked upon himself as consecrated by his exile to some great struggle. His nervous restlessness was but the reaction from the long torpor of Cagin, from the bitterness caused by his unmerited sufferings, by his oaths to avenge the injustice from which he and all humanity in him had suffered. He began to look on the hal as a great animal, digesting a tremendous meal. Around him were solid. solid figures and round faces, offering a continual protest against his pallid face and emaciated

form. They seemed to say that peaceable people could grow fat and be comfortable. He, with clenched hands, brooded over his wrongs until he became more irritated at the remembrance of his exile than he was at the time of his return to France. He would drop his pen and think. The dying fire lighted up his face and his lamp smoked, while the bird with his head under his wing, quietly slept. Sometimes, August, seeing a light under his door, would knock and ask to come in. Florent opened the door with some impatience.

The young man would take a chair in front of the fire, saying little and giving no explanation of why he had come. All the time his eyes were fixed on the photograph of himself and Augustine. Florent finally came to the conclusion that he liked to come to this room merely because his fiancé had once lived there. One evening he asked, with a smile if he had not guessed aright.

Perhaps, answered August in surprise, the question having explained his own feelings to himself. I did not think of it, and if I should tell Augustine so, she would only laugh, he said. When he talked at all, it was about the eating-house which he intended to establish with Augustine at Placein. He seemed so secure of his future, that Florent felt a certain respect for him,

as for any fellow-creature who went straight to his aim. On such evenings, Florein was more discontented than usual and only recovered his equilibrium when he had said to himself over and over again. But this Auguste is a perfect brute. Each month he went to Clamard to see Monsieur Valoc. The poor man lingered along much to the astonishment of Gavar.

At each visit made by Florent, the invalid declared that he was better and almost ready to resume work. Florent sat by the side of the bed and tried to cheer him. He laid on the table, the 50 francs which he had agreed to give up, and each time Valoc insisted he would not take the money.

Then they talked of other things, and the money still lay there. When Florent went away, Madame Valoc followed him to the door. She was pale and small and very sad. She spoke of the frightful expense attendant on her husband's illness, the beef tea, the Bordeaux, and the medicines.

And as tears filled the poor woman's eyes, Florent begged her to accept some assistance from him without her husband's knowledge. She accepted 50 francs, but during the month she often wrote to him, calling him her savior, filling three pages with her gratitude and ending by asking for ten francs.

Finally, the whole salary went to the valoc menage. The husband probably knew nothing of it, and the wife was pitifully humble. This good action was his great joy. He concealed it as if it were something to be ashamed of. Lauren's needs were small, for he had no expenses at his brothers. After a short time, his life was as regular as a clock.

He worked in his attic, two evenings, taught little much, two others, from eight to nine, spent one evening with Lisa, and the rest of his time with Gavard and his friends at the restaurant. His duties as a teacher at the Mahoudans were not especially easy, but the old house pleased him. The lower rooms were occupied by a man who sold cooked vegetables, the sharp smell of which greeted him as soon as the door opened.

The Mahoudans occupied the whole of the second story. The old mother would never consent to move, notwithstanding the entreaties of her two daughters who wanted one of the new houses in the wide streets, but all in vain. She said she had lived there, and there she would die. She contented herself, however, with a dark room, leaving the better chambers to Claire and La Nermont.

The latter, with the authority of an elder sister, took the one overlooking the street, which was really a fine room. claire was so displeased at this that she refused to occupy the adjoining one which opened on the courtyard and took as her own a sort of garret on the other side of the stairs herein when she was displeased she locked herself and was deaf to all sounds from without when florenne presented himself the mahoudons had just finished dinner much jumped into his arms and when the shining oilcloth was wiped down the lessons began on a corner of the table la belle normande greeted him warmly She knitted or mended under the light of the same lamp and often dropped her needle to listen to the lesson. She soon had a great esteem for this man who was so well informed

and was at the same time endowed with such angelic patience. She did not think him in the least ugly now. Do please, Mama, push your chair farther back, said the child angrily. Just see this blot. By degrees she insinuated a few words against La Belle Lysse. She declared that she concealed her rage, that she laced so tightly she could not breathe, and that the reason she always came down in the morning without a hair out of place,

was because she was so hideous in Disabel, and then she raised her arms above her head to show that she wore no corsets. Her figure was superb, and every undulation was to be seen under her loose camisole. The lesson was interrupted. Much was quite interested in seeing his mother lift her arms in this way. Florent laughed and thought women were strange creatures. The rivalry of Lisa and La Belle Normand amused him. Much in the meantime finished

his copy. Florent set others on slips of paper. He particularly affected the words tyrannical, anti-constitutional, revolutionary, and he made the child copy phrases like these. The day of justice will come. When the hour strikes, the guilty will fall. He did this mechanically, merely setting down the ideas which were in his brain. He forgot much, La Belle Normand and all his surroundings.

Much copied everything, filling long pages with unconstitutional and tyrannically. At this time, Mother Mahoudan was wandering around the table, grumbling. She was by no means kindly disposed toward Florent. She said it was absolute folly to set the child at work at this hour, when children ought to be asleep in their beds. She would certainly have shown the lank fellow to the door if her daughter had not fiercely declared that she would leave the house

if she could not receive in it such friends as she chose. Nevertheless, the dispute recommends to each evening. I tell you, said the old woman, that he has a treacherous eye, and then I never trust in men. He is as flat as a board. He has no insides, I do really believe. She talked in this way because she saw how things were going.

She spoke with admiration of Monsieur Le Bigre, who at this time was very gallant toward La Belle Normand. He'd not only smelt a good dowry, but he thought of her beauty which would be such an addition to his counter. But La Normand shrugged her shoulders and turned away. When her mother persisted, she said angrily, "'Let me alone, will you? I shall do as I please.' And, going out of the room, she's slugged. the door. She abused the ascendancy she had acquired in the house, but her mother distrusted her to that point that when she heard a noise in the night, she crept to her daughter's

door to ascertain if Florent were not there. But Florent had a bitterer enemy even than she in the house. As soon as he entered the room, Claire rose without a word, took a candle and went to her own attic, and they heard her lock her door with a snap. One night her sister asked the inspector to dinner, and Claire at hers in the passageway. She sometimes was not seen for a week, and when she came out, her eyes were restless and suspicious. As Florent one evening was going away, he passed Clare's door, which was wide open. He saw her turn very red as he glanced at her. This hostile attitude on her part saddened to him, and only the timidity he always felt toward women prevented him

from asking an explanation. He hesitated, but, catching a glimpse of M. M. Mosein Sages's pale face, looking down from the upper landing, he went on. He had not gone ten steps when he heard Clare's door violently closed. From that time, Memoiselle Sages Sager declared that Madame Connue's cousin had led both the Mehuden woman astray. Florent rarely thought of them, except when they were before his eyes. His manner toward women was that of a man who has never had any success with them.

he expended too much of his virility in dreaming he liked la belle normand in a friendly sort of way she was good-hearted even if she did allow her temper to run away with her sometimes but when she drew her chair close to him and looked over the book he held he was uncomfortable about her hair and skirts clung always a smell of the sea her magnificent figure and clear-cut features gave her the air of an antique statue which had been lying at the bottom of the sea and brought to the surface by some Fisherman's Net. End of Chapter 3, Part 2. Chapter 3, Part 3 of the Markets of Paris by Emil Zola. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. The Handsome Fishwoman, Part 3.

Florence did not admire her especially. She was too large, too powerfully built to please him, in spite of Mademoiselle Saget's statement that he was her lover. The old maid had quarrelled with La Normand about a fishie. had purchased, and immediately became very friendly toward La Belle Lisa, and hoped in that way to make the acquaintance of Florent, who, however, contrived to escape her clutches. The cousin excited her curiosity to the most extraordinary degree. Since he frequented the Mahoudans, she spent most of her time hanging over the railing of the staircase. She knew that La Belle Lisa was by no

means pleased to see Florent go to these women, and therefore went regularly to the eating house to tell her all that was going on. She put her hands on the counter as she talked. She never bought anything, but contented herself with saying over and over again. He was there yesterday, and La Normante called him deer out in the corridor. The day after, she chose to believe that she had seen Floreen leaving Clare's room. She rushed into Lisa's presence saying that it was a disgrace. I saw it with my own eyes, she declared.

He just goes from one to the other, and there is the old mother sleeping in her room between the daughters. I think it is simply scandalous. Lisa shrugged her shoulders. She said little, encouraging the old maid's gossip only by her silence. When the illusions became broader, she frowned and said, under her breath, No, this will never do. Memoiselle Saget answered that all women were not as respectable as herself.

She ought to have found that out by this time. She was too indulgent to the cousin. A man of his age ought not to run after every petticoat. Was he married? But Lisa would never say a word about the cousin, and when Mademoiselle Sajet had gone, immediately called to Augustine to bring a cloth to rub off the spots left by the fingers of the little old woman

on the shining marble. It is disgusting, she muttered. The rivalry of La Belle Lisa and La Belle Normand became daily more aggressive, the latter being quite sure that she had stolen Lisa's lover, Each woman evinced her hostility according to her temperament. One, tranquil and contemptuous, with the air of a woman who draws her skirts closely around her to keep them from contamination. The other, insolent, loud and gay, with the manner of a successful duelist who is eager for a fray.

Their glances crossed each other like sorts when La Normand passed the eating shop and Lisa stood at the door. When Lisa went to the fish market, she turned up her nose when she passed her rival's stall and bought at the next a turbot or a salmon. To hear the rivals talk of each other, one would believe that these sold spoiled fish and tainted meat. They could see each other, too, from their respective places of business. The great cow is up, cried La Belle Normand.

She is pulling her corset lace as tight as if it were at the end of one of her big sausages. At the same moment, on the other side of the street, Lisa was saying to her assistant, Do you see that poor creature opposite? she is losing all her good looks with the life she leads. Do you see her earrings? It is a great pity for a girl like that to wear such expensive ones. It is a great pity for the one who has to pay for them, answered Augustine complacently. But in the afternoon the contest waged hotter. La Belle Normand embroidered with the most delicate of needles. This exasperated Lisa, who said,

She has best darn her boy's stockings with those red hands. Lisa was knitting as usual It is always the same stalking too, remarked the other She eats so much that she falls asleep over her work The two women forbade their children to speak to each other Pauline and much before this had been excellent friends The little girl with her fresh crisp skirts And the bare-legged boy paddling in the gutter

One day when much came for Pauline as usual Lisa dismissed him as if he had been a beggar You cannot play with my mother my child, she said, I could never have an easy moment. He has such examples before him. The child was only seven. Manoiselle Sagin nodded her head sagaciously. You are right. He is thoroughly depraved. He was found in the cellar the other day with one of the neighbor's little girls. La Belle Normand, when much ran to her weeping, to tell her of his disappointment, was perfectly furious. She would have liked to break every pane of glass in Lisa's

windows, but contented herself with whipping much. If you ever go there again, she raged, you will have an account to settle with me. The real victim of these two women was Florent, for they would never have quarreled but for him. It was he who had set them all by the ears, for until his arrival they had lived in dull peace. La Belle Lisa preserved the attitude toward her brother-in-law of a judge. She showed him clearly that she utterly disapproved of his conduct, but did her best not to show the jealousy she felt. Honest woman as she was, and thorough as was her disdain of Florent, she never saw him leave the house to go to La Rue Piroet without a pang. The dinners at the

conures were less cheerful. The excessive neatness of the dining-room became almost rigid. Florent hardly dared eat, lest he should let a few crumbs fall on the floor. Lisa said with a smile one day, It seems to me that you grow thinner and thinner. In her tone, there was some of the distrust which Mother Mahoudan openly acknowledged feeling toward thin people, and Cuner hazarded more than one allusion to the dissipated life his brother was believed to lead. Lisa, however, never made the smallest allusion to La Belle Normand, and one night, when her name dropped from Cunus' unwary lips,

she became so icy that he never repeated the offense. Lisa never spoke of Florent to her husband. She thought it unwise to make the smallest difference between the brothers unless absolutely necessary. At this time she was very tolerant and avoided every allusion which could remind the inspector that he ate and drank with her without paying for the privilege but one day she said to Canu

we are never alone now if you wish to speak to me you must wait until we go to bed and one evening as she was sewing she said to her husband why does not your brother buy himself some underwear I have been obliged to give him three old shirts of yours he never knows what he does

with his money, answered Cunuch. And it is none of our business, replied his wife. Only once did she lose her repose of manner. The Normand had presented Florent with a fine salmon. He did not know how to refuse, nor what to do with it, and finally carried it home to Lisa. Suppose you make a paté of it, he said ingenuously. She looked at him with whitened lips.

Then, in a voice that she strove to render firm, she answered, do you think we are in need of food? Thank heaven we have enough to eat yet. Take it away. Will you not cook it for me? asked Florent amazed at her anger. Her anger burst forth. Do you think this house is a country inn?

Tell the persons who gave it to you to cook it. It shall not be done in my kettles or pans. Take it away, I tell you. He carried it to Monsieur Le Bigre. Rose was told to make a paté of it, and this patty. was eaten the same evening, Monsieur Gavard, adding some oysters to the feast.

By degrees, Florent gradually fell into the way of spending more time of the cabaret. Sometimes, when he had established himself for a quiet evening's work in his attic, the absolute quiet of the room grated upon him, and he dropped everything, and went off to listen to the sarcastic denunciations of Chervais, and to the bitter axioms of L'Egr. One evening, L'Gre, having been more violent than usual, brought his fist down on the table furiously, and declared that if the men of today were worth anything, they would pull down the government, and he added that the day was not far off when this would

be done, and that they had best hold themselves in readiness. Heads were then drawn closely together, voices were lowered, and Gavall from that day looked upon himself as belonging to a secret society, a most dangerous organization. Discussions were renewed night after night for months, then followed questions of organizations. questions of ends and means, questions of strategy and future government. As soon as Rose had served the party, Clements included, the doors were closed and the Seance was opened. Charvet and Florein were the two, to whom the others naturally listened. Gavard could not hold his tongue, however, and little by little he told the story of Cayenne,

and promoted Florent to the distinction of a martyr, and one night, when someone said something against his friend who was absent, he exclaimed, do not attack Florent. He has been to Cayenne. But Chavez was not abashed even by this distinction, and he replied, Cayenne, Cayenne, indeed. It is not such a bad place after all. He then tried to prove that exile was nothing, that it was far worse to remain in a country oppressed by triumphant despotism. He insisted that only simpletons were arrested on the second of December,

and seemed much out of temper, however, that he had not arrived at that distinction himself. floren called himself a socialist and was supported by alexander and la cayre as to gavar having been reproached for his fortune he more than once announced himself to be a communist the fact is said charvey in his decisive tone the trunk is rotten and it should be cut down yes answered lugre standing up to make his assent more imposing yes you are right he repeated pompously robin approved with a silent nod which became more frequent the more revolutionary the propositions became his eyes gleamed at the word guillotine he shut them partially and seemed to be looking at the thing itself and then he rubbed his chin with a gentle purr of satisfaction i think said floren in a voice which had a tone of sadness i think said floren in a voice which had a tone of sadness i think that the tree should be preserved to graft upon it a new life. It is time now to think of the workmen. Our movement should be a social one, and I defy you to restrain the people from advancing their claims.

They will have their share now. They are weary of standing back. These words filled Alexandre with wild enthusiasm. Yes, he cried, that is true. All revolutions, said Lecay, have been for the middle classes. We must have our turn. "'But,' exclaimed Chavez, "'do you expect me to fight for the workmen

"'if they refused to fight for me? "'But after all, that is not the question. "'France cannot be accustomed to the exercise of liberty "'without ten years of revolutionary dictatorship. "'Particually,' said Clermont in a low distinct tone, "'as the workman is not mature and needs guidance. "'She spoke, but rarely. "'This strange, grave, quiet woman

"'listened like any man to these political discussions. she sat leaning against the wall looking from one to the other of the speakers with a nod of assent or a frown of disapproval which proved that she fully understood what was said and that she had moreover decided opinions on the most complicated subjects sometimes she rolled a cigarette and smoked it slowly and contemplatively she had the air of sitting in judgment and looked as if she had prizes to distribute at the end she evidently thought it due to her position as a woman to reserve her opinion and not mingle in the the discussions. Sometimes, however, in the heat of them, she uttered a word or two, and struck the nail on the head to use Gavar's expression, or put the climax to something which Chavez had said. The truth was that she thought herself far cleverer than any of these men, with the exception of Robine, whom she respected for his silence. Florent, like the other men, paid very little attention to Clements, whom, in fact, they regarded as one of themselves. They shook her hand as if they

would loosen her arm from its socket. One evening, Florent heard her and Charvet talking over her accounts. Charvet asked her to lend him ten francs, but she said no, that they must first know just how they stood. They lived together on the basis of freedom, both in love and money. Each paid his expenses strictly, and thus were slaves to no man. The rent, food, washing and amusements were all divided, and this evening Clements proved to Charvet that he already owed her five francs.

she then gave him the ten for which he asked, saying, "'Remember you now owe me fifteen. You must pay me when you get your money for little Liudier's lessons.' When Rose was summoned to receive the money due from the little circle, Climence was laughed at, because she ordered a glass of grog. Chavez said she did it to humiliate him because he earned less than she. Although he laughed, he felt this fact keenly and inwardly protested against it, in spite of his theory of the equality of the sexes.

If these discussions amounted to little, they at least exercise the lungs of these gentlemen. Sometimes they talked so loudly that Rose, serving some blouse of the counter, would cast an uneasy glance toward the closed door. They are quarreling in there, said the blouse, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. No danger, answered Monsieur Le Bigre quietly. It is only gentlemen talking. Le Bigre, who was strict enough with his other customers, let these talk and shout as much as they pleased, without any interference from him. He sat for hours on his soft cushioned chair

as sleepily watching rows on cork her bottles and wiper glasses. But no matter how sleepy he was, he always rose when the discussions in the private room became at all loud, and placed himself where he could hear what was said, and sometimes even, he, after a light tap on the door, knocked and went in, and Gavard himself said that Le Bigre could be relied on

if troubles came. But one morning at Market, when Floreen interfered, between Rose and a fishwoman in a tremendous quarrel that took place a propos of some herring, he heard the latter call Rose the spy's mistress and the dirty rag of the prefecture. When peace was established, he went about quietly and informed himself as far as he was able in regard to the Bigre. One said that he had been on the police force, another said that he was a usurer, and lent to the market people at the

most fearful rate of interest. Florent was much disturbed, in that same evening, he in a low voice told his friends what he had heard. His discourse was received with derision. Poor Florent, said Charvet maliciously, because he has been at Cayenne, he always thinks the police are at his heels. Cavar gave his word of honor that Le Bigre was honest and honorable. But Lugre was very angry.

He twisted himself on his chair until it cracked and said that it was a little too much to hear these constant suggestions of the police. For his part, he would rather stay at home. home and think no more of politics. Had he not been transported twice? He looked so ferocious that the others nodded in assent, but, like I, when he heard the word usurer, turned away his head. In fact, the plot made but little progress. At the beginning of the summer, Floreen had been somewhat distrustful, but had now begun to believe in the possibility of some

revolutionary movement. He occupied himself with the idea quite seriously, taking notes and drawing up plans. He even induced his brother to accompany him to the cabaret one evening, with the feeling that he was still his pupil and should be now launched in politics. Canu liked this new experience. He liked the noise. He liked the novelty of the presence of a woman in such a place. La Belle Lisa noticed his haste to leave home in the evening. She said nothing, but when he and Florent went away, she stood at her door and saw them enter the cabaret with stormy eyes and compressed lips. Mademoiselle Sages one evening

recognized a new shadow on the ground-glass windows of the private room which looked out on the Rue Pirouette. She had found an excellent post of observation where she soon learned to know every shadow. Sometimes she felt as if she might find out something more tangible if she were on the spot. So, she took her cordial bottle on the pretense

that she must take something the first thing in the morning. She made Rose wash her bottle in order to spend more time at the counter, but at last she could find no further excuse for delay, and she reluctantly turned to leave when she heard Canu say in a childish tone. It is high time that these deputies and ministers should be put down.

Before eight o'clock the next morning, Mademoiselle Sagé was at Lisa's. She found La Sariette and Madame Lacourre there buying hot sausages for their breakfast. As the little old maid had drawn them into her quarrel with La Belle Normand, they naturally became quite intimate with Lisa. They declared that the fishwoman was abominable, in that Florein was getting tired of managing the two,

and was handing one of them over to his friend Gavar. The four went often to supper at Barats. On the especial mourning of which we write, the old maid had prepared a blow for La Belle Lisa. I saw Monsieur Canu, she said in her sweetest voice, They have a good time, those gentlemen in that private room where they make so much noise. Lisa did not choose to look as if she heard, but in reality not a word escaped her. Mademoiselle Sajet went on. They had a woman with them.

Oh, not Monsieur Canu. I don't say it was he, for I don't know. It was Climence, interrupted La Sariette. She puts on such airs just because she was educated at a boarding school. She lives with a ragged professor. I have seen them together many a time. I know, said the old. old maid who had known all the time and merely wished to disturb Lisa, who, however, looked as

placid as usual. She seemed interested in something that was going on in the market. Then the other tried again, and addressing Madame Lacourre, she said, If I were you, I would advise my brother-in-law to be prudent. They say the most awful things in that room. Men really seem to have no sense with their politics. If they should be heard, things might go hard with them. "'Gavard does as he chooses,' sighed Madame Lecoeur. "'But this is the drop too much. "'Axiety will soon use me up entirely.'

"'Oh,' answered Mademoiselle Sajé, "'it will do no harm, "'so long as only a safe person like myself here is them. "'But last night when Monsieur Canu said—' "'She stopped. "'Lisa had certainly started. "'Monsieur said that all the ministers "'and deputies ought to be shot.'

"'Lisa turned around. She was very pale. Did Can you say that? she asked. Yes, and much more that I cannot remember. But there is no harm done, for, as I say, it was only I, who heard him, and you know that I am as safe as possible. I know, too, how much harm such words might do a man. It is between ourselves entirely.

Lisa was herself again. She was too proud to allow these people to see that there was the smallest cloud between herself and her husband. She smiled faintly and said, "'It is all nonsense, my dear woman.' When the three women were on the sidewalk, they agreed that Lisa looked extremely discomfited, and they thought there would be trouble soon among these people.

Madame Le Carr asked what was done with people who were arrested for political reasons. The old maid said she had no idea. She only knew that they were never seen again. La Sariette, whereupon, jauntily remarked that perhaps they were thrown into the seine. That day, at breakfast, and dinner, Lisa made no remarks,

nor when in the evening her husband went away with Florein. That night the discussion was so interesting that it was prolonged until after midnight. Kunu went home with rather an uneasy conscience. He opened the three or four doors of his house as softly as possible and crossed

the salon on tipto. On entering his bedroom, he was annoyed to see that Lisa had left a candle burning. As he took off his boots, the clock struck half past one with a clear, ringing sound. which was so loud that he started and turned a glance of reproach upon the shining Gutenberg.

He could only see Lisa's back. She lay with her head buried in her pillows, but he knew she was not asleep, that her eyes were wide open and fixed on the wall. Her large shoulders were eloquent with restrained anger. Keneu, considerably disconcerted by the silent reproach of her attitude, blew out the candle, and slipped into bed lying on its very edge.

Finally he fell asleep, not daring to say good-night. The next day he slept late. When he awoke, he lay for a few minutes looking at Lisa, who was seated before her secretary, putting her papers in order. He summoned all his courage and said from over the eider-down coverings, Why did you not wake me before? What are you doing? Putting my drawers in order, she answered. He felt the weight lifted from his shoulders, but she added,

You can't tell what may happen if the police should come. The police did you say? Yes, certainly. Are you occupied with politics now? He raised himself considerably startled by this unexpected attack. I do not care a sue for politics, he said. The police won't come here, I fancy, for I shall not compromise myself. No, indeed, answered Lisa with a shrug of the shoulders.

You merely wish to shoot everybody. I, I. yes and you shout this out at a second-rate cabaret mademoiselle sagé heard you say it all the whole carty know by this time that you are a red he pulled the sheets over his head he was not more than half awake he shivered as if he already heard the gendarmes at the door of his room he looked at her with her hair dressed as usual her well-fitting gown was the one she always wore and vaguely wondered at finding her so correct under these dramatic circumstances you know she continued that i leave you absolutely free she went on sorting her papers i have no desire to rule you are the master you can ruin us it is my duty to look out for he protested but she silenced him with a gesture i do not wish to quarrel she said had you asked my advice she rose and went from the bed to the window and back again to her desk from which she brushed a few grains of dust for my part i am grateful to the government our business is prosperous and i eat my dinner quietly and sleep undisturbed by canon how was it in forty-eight uncle grader showed us on his books how he lost over six thousand francs at that time Now that we have the empire, all is prosperous.

What more do you want? How will you be any better off when you have shot everybody? She stood with her arms folded, looking at Canu, who disappeared entirely. He put out his head at last and essayed an explanation, but became hopelessly involved in the political and social systems of Charvet and Florent. He spoke of the future of the democracy, of the regeneration of society, in such confused terms that Lisa shrugged her shoulders. and despair. He finally attacked the empire. It was the reign of utter profligacy of theft

by mailed hands. You see, he said, repeating a phrase he had caught from Lager, we are at the mercy of a band of adventurers who are devastating France. We must have done with them. Very well, and what then? You are not obliged to assassinate, pillage, or steel, and what do we care what other people do? She was quite magnificent, as she walked up and down the room in stately fashion. If the government does vile things, she continued, I do not wish to know it. Kevar says that the Emperor is a bad man and that he is mixed up in some scandalous stories. This may be true, probably is.

But that need not prevent your voting for him, for he does not ask you to lend him money, and you have only to let the government understand that you are satisfied in the prosperity of your business. Listen to me, and she seated herself on the edge of the bed. do you want your shop pillaged? Do you want your cellar emptied and your money taken? Do you think that if these men at Monsieur Le Bigre's triumph that you will be as comfortable as you are now? No, indeed.

Then why do you talk so lightly of upsetting a government which has given you this protection? You have a wife and a daughter. Your first duty is to them? You have no right to risk their happiness. There are plenty of people without a roof over their heads who can risk their lives as much as they please. please, but as for you, my dear, simple husband, you had best make yourself comfortable, eat well, sleep well, and keep an easy conscience. France does not need you. She laughed, and Cunieu was entirely convinced that she was right and that she was a very pretty woman.

He looked around the room, and his eyes fell on their portraits, which had quite an air of distinction, he thought. The chamber, too, was quite imposing. The squares of Gipur gave an air of respectability to the chairs. The carpets and curtains had a most comfortable aspect, and he seemed to himself to have risked the loss of all these at Monsieur Le Begris. Now, said his wife, you must promise to meddle no more with politics. Sustain the government to the extent of your ability, and when you are old you will live in peace on your income. Kunyu again assented. It is Gavar, he murmured. The smile faded from her face.

No, it is not Gavar. I know who it is. He should be sure of his own safety before he compromises others. Do you mean Florein? asked Kenu timidly. She did not reply at once, but turned away to the secretary.

Then she said, in quick, decided tones, Yes, I mean, Florent. You know I am very patient. On no consideration would I come between you and your brother, the ties of blood are sacred. But the truth is, that ever since your brother came,

things have gone from bad to worse. no i will not say any more there was a long silence and as canoe looked in a day's sort of way at the ceiling she continued with more violence he seems to have no idea either of the sacrifices we make for him he has augustine's chamber and the poor girl has to sleep in a closet without a breath of air we feed him and supply all his needs and he accepts everything as a matter of course he makes money but we see none of it you know we have his inheritance in our business "'Konu timidly observed. "'Lisa looked as if she were stunned. "'Her anger fell. "'You are right,' she said slowly. "'We have his inheritance,

"'and the account is in that drawer. "'He would not have it as you remember, "'which proves the truth of my words, "'that he is a fellow without any sense. "'If he had been in the least practical, "'he would have done something with that money. "'I did not want it. "'I spoke to him several times,

"'but he would not hear me. "'I wish you would have to be. compel him to take it? Canu uttered a groan. Lisa dropped that point. No, he is not like any person I ever saw before, she continued. I say this merely because we are talking about him. I should not trouble myself about what he did or where he went,

were it not that the whole Gertsie are talking about him. But I tell you positively that if he is going to meddle with politics again and proposes to involve you that I shall get rid of him at once, I warn you, and I hope you understand. Laurent was condemned. She made a strong effort to control herself and not allow her husband to suspect the flood of bitterness which filled her soul.

She went on. He worries me, she said. He frightens me. Besides, he smells a fish, and I can't eat a mouthful when he is at the table. He eats, though. But why does he not grow fat? Passes my comprehension.

She went to the window as she spoke, and caught a glimpse of her brother-in-law just entering the market, and the look with which she followed him was that of a combatant, of a woman who was resolved to triumph. When she turned, Canoe had risen. He was pale and shivering, not from cold, but with grief at the lack of harmony between his wife and his brother. But Lisa smiled and handed him his slippers,

which courtesy touched him greatly. End of Chapter 3. Chapter 4, Part 1 of the Markets of Paris by Emil Zola. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Chickweed for the Little Birds Part 1 Mergelin was found in the Marche des Innocent

among a pile of cabbages. No one ever knew what wretched hands had put him there. He was about three years old when he was found, fat and happy, but so dull or backward that he did not speak one word. When a woman turning over the cabbages suddenly beheld him under a huge white cabbage, she uttered a little shriek, and he stretched out his arms to her. The whole day long

the market talked of him. He laughed all day and ate whatever was given him. The woman who first saw him kept him a month. She then passed him on to another, and then to another. When anyone said to him, where is your mother? He made a droll little gesture which took in the whole market women. He was the child of the hal, living first with one of the woman and then with another. Dressed no one precisely knew how, but always having a few sous in his pocket. A beautiful girl who sold plants called him Margelland. No one knew why, but the name was adopted. Margellet was four when Mother Chantamesz found, in her turn a little girl on the sidewalk outside of the market. The child could not have been more than two, but she chattered like

a magpie in her childish dialect. The woman thought she called herself Cadine and said that her mother had told her to wait for her, but the little girl was quite ready to go with Mother Chantamese, and seemed delighted with the crowd and all the pretty vegetables. Mother Chantamese was a goodish sort of woman, about sixty, who adored children, and had lost three of her own, and she adopted Cadin. One evening, as the old woman was walking through the market, leading Cadine by the right hand, Margellin came up and took the child's left hand, without the smallest ceremony. Well, well, said the old woman, you are to be a child.

too late, your place is taken. But when the little fellow smiled in her face, it was too much for her, and she said to him, come on, one may as well have two as one, I suppose. And she walked home, leading the two children whom she put to bed

in an old hand-cart without wheels, which, if it was a little hard, was clean. Thus did the two little imps grow up together and became inseparable. Mother Chantamesse heard them talking together softly in the night. Kadeen, in her baby voice, would tell the most wonderful stories, to which Margelein would listen in mute amazement.

She invented stories as she grew older, which filled him with terror. She was once heard to say that the night before she had seen a tall man, all in white, standing at the foot of their bed looking at them, and when Margelein, piteously begged for further details, she laughed delightedly and called him a great simpleton. For a long time their bed was their playroom. Cadine took her dolls there, and there their white teeth crunched stolen turnips. Each morning their adopted mother was astonished to find leaves and stones, apple cores, and bundles of paper rolled up to imitate dolls. On rainy days or very cold days, they remained in bed half the day

and slept as much as they could. This room in La Rue de la Lingerie was a large attic lighted by one window only. The children played hide-and-seek there in the tall wardrobe and under the colossal bed. There were two or three tables under which they could crawl. The house had a succession of gutters into which the children threw stones

with such success that they broke two windows and Mother Chantames was requested to leave. Cadine and Margelland spent much of their time in the streets which they fearlessly threaded. When it rained, they walked gravely side by side under an umbrella, which was all in slits,

having been used for twenty years to shelter a vegetable stand. They planted it in a corner of the market and called it their house. On sunny warm days they bathed their feet in the gutter, made little dams across it with stones, hid among the vegetables, and stayed there all night. Sometimes they would be caught by the delighted chuckle which came from a mountain of lettucees,

and when they were rooted out, they looked like scared birds discovered amid the bushes. Cadine could not live without Margelein, and Marjolin wept when he lost Cadine. When they became separated, they always looked for each other first among the cabbages, which they seemed to prefer to all other vegetables. Margellin was eight and Cadine six,

when Mother Chantames first made them feel ashamed of their idleness. She promised them each a soup or day if they would help prepare her vegetables. This was the specialty of Mother Chantamese. On her table were piled little heaps of potatoes, turnips and carrots, scraped and peeled, ready to pop into the pod of some hurried housewife. She also had soup herbs tied up and bundles ready for the pot-of-feu, four leeks, three carrots, one parsnip, two turnips, and some celery-tops.

Then two there were vegetables cut fine, lying on paper ready for a Julienne. Cadine was much more skillful than Mergelin, although younger. Her potato pairings were so thin that one could see the light through them, and she tied up her herbs in so graceful of fashion that they looked like bouquets, and made the small piles look like larger ones, so skillfully did she arrange them. People as they passed stopped at the clear childish voice which saluted them. Buy of me, madame, by of me, only two sous.

She had her own customers soon. Her little piles had quite a reputation, and Mother Jean-Damesse seated between the children, laughed silently at seeing them so intent on their work. She paid them each their sue every night, but they soon grew weary of their children. undertaking and determined to enlarge their operations and find more lucrative employment. Mergeline remained a child a long time, much to Cadine's annoyance, who called him a cabbagehead.

There was some truth in what she said, for he had no faculty for making money while she was very clever. When she was eight years old, she was employed by one of the women who sold lemons and oranges near the market to run after people with them in her hands. She received two sue for every dozen she sold, and often made six or eight sue. The next year, she sold caps, when her profits were larger. The difficulty here was that not being allowed to sell them openly, as such commerce is forbidden, she was obliged to evade the police. She saw them a square off, the caps went under her petticoats, and when they reached her,

she was eating an apple with the most innocent air. After this, she sold cakes, galettes and cherry tarts, biscuit de maize, thick and and yellow. But Marjolin ate too much of her stock. At eleven, she realized a great idea that had tormented her for some time. She had saved four francs, and she bought a little basket and began to sell chickweed. This was a great event. She rose early and bought her chickweed and her branches of millet, and then she went as far as Luxembourg, Margelland with her. But she would not let him carry the basket. He was only good to cry her wares, she said, and he shouted until he was horse, chickweed, chickweed for the little birds.

And then she would take up the cry and in a strange musical phrase would call, Chickweed, chickweed for the little birds. At this time Marjolais wore a huge red vest which had belonged to the defunct father Chantames who had driven a piacre. Cadine's dress was a blue and white check cut from a tartan once worn by Mother Chantames. All the canary birds in the Cartier-Latain knew them and would answer to their cry by fluttering wings and an eager chirp. Cadine sold watercresses also.

Two sous for a basket. Only two sous. The central hall were now being built, and the little girl was carried away by the long alley of flowers which crossed the fruit market. There she saw two thick hedges of roses, and drag in the perfume with exquisite delight.

She held her curly head under Margellan's nose, and he bowed she should never use any more pomade. She finally mad. so cleverly that she obtained a position at one of the flower stands and lived from morning until night among roses and lilacs wallflowers and lilies of the valley margolet to tease her would catch the hem of her dress and smell of it to be sure he would say lilies of the valley then he would snuff at her shoulders wallflowers he added sententiously he would hold her hands up high smell of them lilies my dear and your lips are roses cadine laughed called him a goose and told him to let her be but in truth she was a living bouquet the girl rose at four to help her mistress at work each morning there were huge baskets of flowers brought in packages of moss periwinkle and ferns on fight days their labors began at two o'clock when more than one hundred thousand francs worth of cut flowers were sold in the market on such days only cadine's pretty curly head was to be seen among her pansies minis and Marguerite's. She was lost among the flowers. In a very short time, she had acquired

not only skill, but exhibited great originality. Her bouquets did not please everybody by any means. They were even disagreeable to some persons. Reds, predominated, combined with yellows and blues, in a barbaric sort of way. On those mornings when the girl had teased Margelland until he was ready to weep, her bouquets were more than ever fiery in color. Other days, when she was moved by some joy or some sorrow, her bouquets were soft and tender. They were roses then, or white carnations. Tony gladioli, like patches of flame among feathery verdure, a tapestry of Smyrna patiently imitated flower by flower, or fans gracefully spread and soft as lace.

Dreams of loveliness to place in the hands of a graceful woman or a pure young girl. All the strange fancies were those of a child in whom the the woman was just awakening. Cadine respected only two things. Lilacs, a bunch of which, six or eight sprays, costs in winter from fifteen to twenty francs, and camellias, which are dearer still, and which come from the florists,

in boxes of a dozen each on a bed of moss, covered with cotton wool. She took them up as she would have handled jewels, with the most delicate care, hardly venturing to breathe, lest she should tarnish their exquisite beauty, and with infinite precautions put a fine wire through their short stems. She spoke of them with great deference,

telling Marjeunet that a white camellia, without a brown or rusty stain, was a very rare thing. One morning when she was trying to make him admire one, he said, Oh, yes, it is pretty, but not half as pretty as the skin under your chin. It is no whiter, and not half as smooth. He touched her with the tips of his fingers, and then added, "'Everything about you today "'smells of orange blossoms.'

"'Kedin was not very amiable, "'nor a very submissive little servant, "'and consequently established herself "'on her own account as soon as she could, "'which, of course, was at first only "'on a very small scale. "'She sold boutoniers of violets for a sou, "'which were stuck in a flat basket.

"'She spent her days in the hall. "'This was her great delight, "'and she arranged her violets "'as she walked with wonderful dexterity. She counted six or eight flowers, according to the season, added a leaf or two, and wound around them a damp thread which she bit off with her sharp white teeth. Her basket was always full, no matter how many she sold, so quick was she in making them. No matter how rudely she was jostled in the crowded streets,

her rapid fingers moved while her eyes were occupied with the shop windows. Sometimes she sat down for a while in a doorway and gave to the very gutter, wherein the dirty water ran, a look of spring. Her boutoniers indicated her mood. Some were fierce and bristling, others sweet and tender. Wherever she went, she left behind her an odor of the country,

and Margelloins told her she was herself one big violet. The girl made no further changes. She adhered to the flower business. But as the two children grew up, she occasionally left her Osier basket at home and went off with Margellé exploring the hall and its cellars. They knew its every corner and dim recess,

and were thoroughly at home with the sleeping giant. Cadine and Marjolet had outgrown the old hand-cart in the attic of Mother Chantamesse. The old woman had sent the boy to a neighbor's to sleep, but the children were unhappy at the separation and liked to curl up together behind the food stalls in the market, and as they grew older they often slept in the cellar, and among the baskets of feathers enjoying the sense of companionship in the most utter innocence.

But later, they lived like young and happy animals. Cadine at sixteen was a thorough bohemian selfish, sensual, and greedy. Margellet at 18 was dull of intellect, but good-natured, if a little blazé. Cadine laughed impudently in the face of Mother Chantames when the old woman asked her where she had spent the night. When the girl was not with Margellin, he slept anywhere among the old boxes, but he never left the hall. It was there they spent their lives. But their great delight was in the especial market.

devoted to butter, eggs, and cheeses, where every morning piles of empty baskets were found. They selected an enormous one and called it their house. There they lay unsuspected by anyone, and shook with laughter when people stopped near them to talk without suspecting their presence. Cadine, in Cherry Time, armed herself with any amount of stones,

which she threw at the noses of all the old women who passed, which was all the better fun for them, as the poor old things could not divine whence came the head. They amused themselves by following the track of the subterranean railway, the deserted avenues with its streaks of daylight coming through the gratings, the dark corners lighted by gas. The whole place seemed to belong to them. Occasionally, on moonlight nights, they climbed upon the roofs by the narrow staircase at each angle, and found a wide field of zinc spread before them.

But they did not stop here. They went still higher, until only the sky was above them. At this height, the air was very pure. The wind swept away all the bad odors from the market, and at daybreak they sat on the edge of the roof by the gutters with the sparrows. Cadine laughed aloud with a sound like the cooing of a dove. Mergele, when they came down, said they had been in the country. It was at the tripe market that they first made the acquaintance of Claude Lanciet. They went there every day.

They liked to watch the carts drive up. They looked at the lamb's feet, which were piled up like dirty paving stones, the huge red tongues and bullock's hearts. They shivered as they saw the bloody heads and thought of a guillotine. But, fascinated, followed them to the cellar, and saw them broken one by one by the butchers with a mallet, and the brains taken out. Toward evening, between four and five, Cadine and Margelland were sure of meeting Claude, who was in an ecstasy at the beauty of coloring. The painter became the great friend of the two gamins. he contemplated a colossal picture of the two young lovers in the market among the meats vegetables and fish he dreamed of an artistic manifesto of the positivism of art modern art experimental and materialistic and hoped thus to satirize the painter of ideas and to strike a blow at the old school for more than two years he had made studies for this purpose but had not yet found the key note he had commenced a dozen canvases but was dissatisfied with all and

and felt a certain spite against his two models on account of his unpainted picture. Wherever he saw them, however, he joined them, and the three roamed the streets together, all in a row, compelling the people they met to turn out for them. They learned to know each corner by its odors, the wine shop, the pastry cooks, and the bakers. When they wandered through the wide new streets, La Rue du Ponneuve and La Rue des Hall,

he or raided to the gamins on their beauty and magnificence, on the birth of a new era which he felt to be able to. to be near at hand, an era of originality. But Cadine and Marjolins preferred the provincial quiet of La Rue des Bordonnais, where they could play marbles on the curbstones without danger of being walked on. They preferred those portions of old Paris, which were still left standing. Les Rue de la Poterie and de la Lingerie with their swelled front houses and narrow dark shops. They like to loiter at the windows and adore the sweetmeats,

the boxes of prunes and the candies in the confectioner's windows. there was one shop where soap was manufactured where margolais always stopped to catch the fragrance which came from the door as it was opened cadine insisted on looking at the barrels of anchovies and capers at a great warehouse huge jars of pickled cucumbers and olives with their wooden spoons she liked the smell of pickled salmon of hams and dried herring and smacked her lips at the sight of the boxes of sardines in la rue coquillers they caught the smell of truffles and they caught the smell of truffles and they liked the smell of truffles and they liked the smell of truffles and they liked the smell of There, Cadine and Marjolais shut their eyes, and pretended they were eating the most delicious things. Claude laughed at them, called them simpletons, and said he should leave them to dine on the smell of truffles. Cadine, when she was alone, did not extend her walks so far.

She had a weakness for certain places, for an especial pastry-cook who displayed in the rue surbigot, almond cakes, savans, babas and eclars, custards and creams, and looked with longing eyes on the macaroons and medlends. The bakery, with its clean marble counters, was almost as attractive, and, yielding to temptation, she would go in and buy a brioche for two sous. Another shop opposite the Square des Innocent made her mouth water, and she vowed to herself that the day would come when she would eat her fill of the delicacies there displayed. Cadine also felt a longing for pretty things to wear as well as to eat, and as she

walked would select a pale blue or green silk, as that which she would like. and in the evening lingered before the jewelers in La Rue Montmartre, whose windows blazed with the white light of silver and the yellow hue of gold. The watches, bracelets, and rings did not tempt her as much as the silver thimbles which covered a globe. She selected, however, some earrings of imitation coral, which she regarded as altogether the most beautiful things there. One morning, Claude found her transfixed before the window of a coiffeur in La Rue Saint-honour-é.

She was looking with evidence. longing at the display of hair in all hues, from the palest blonde to the densest black in the midst of which a woman's bust was slowly revolving. The woman wore a scarf of cherry satin fasted by a brass breastpin and the hair was dressed as a bride's, very high with orange blossoms. The mouth wore a simple smile and the eyelashes were stiff and preposterously long, but Cadine was completely fascinated by this beautiful creature. Clode was furious. He shook Cadine and asked her what she found to admire in that bust, which looked as if it had come from the morgue. Cadine and Marjolins had made the acquaintance of Leon, the apprentice of the

Kunugradel. They saw him as he carried a tray to some customer, select a quiet corner, and there lift the covers and try each dish in succession. They at once felt him to be one of themselves, and Cadine determined to know him and enjoy these delicacies with him on some future occasion. She invited him to a breakfast which she gave. in a corner of the market sheltered from public observation by a rampart of empty baskets. The table was a flat basket turned bottom upwards. They had pears, nuts, cheese and shrimps, fried potatoes and radishes. The cheese came from a fruterer's in La Rue de la Cossonerie and was a present. She had purchased two cents worth of fried potatoes on credit. The rest of the feast she had

stolen. It was a regal repast and, Leone, not wishing to be outdone, returned the civility by a supper, and gave them cold blood pudding, sausages, pickles, and ham. The charcuterie of the conneugradel had provided everything. From this time, suppers and breakfasts were constantly

interchanged. Never were young people happier. Margellin constantly provided sweet surprises for Cadine in the way of delicacies which he stole for her delectation. He had become very skillful in this respect and helped himself like magic as he walked between the stars.

Notwithstanding his success, however, the Friter was beginning to make loud complaints. This Frittier whom Cadeen patronized had his little stall supported against the side of a tottering wall, held up by moss-covered beams, and Cadine owed him thirty sous and was quite crushed by the debt. How could she ever pay it? She did not count on Margellan. She never did. She felt herself compelled to return Leon's politeness and was quite a shame that she could never offer him any meat. He had served them an entire ham at a time. He had all the things which the shop could furnish, but no bread and nothing to drink.

Mergellay saw Leon kiss the girl one night, but he only laughed. He was not jealous of her. Claude never assisted at these festivities. He had caught Cadine one day, stealing a bunch of beats, and had pulled her ear as well. She should not do this, he said, and yet he felt a certain sense of amusement at seeing these happy animals picking up the crumbs of this abundance. Mergellay was in Gavard's employment and had little to do save to hear his master's interminable tales.

While Cadine continued to sell her violets, Mergele left her very often to look through the windows at Madame Connue. He experienced in looking at her a sensation as if he had eaten something that he liked, and he left the window eager to see her again. He dreamed of her every night, and contrived to see her nearly every day as she had now taken upon herself the task of going to market, and passed Gavard's shop on her way. The truth was, her instinct taught her that she was more likely to induce him to speak openly to her in his own shop than in hers, where he was on his guard. But in his he was quite

willing to orate. She determined to discover from him what took place at Monsieur Le Bigreuse, for in Mademoiselle Saga she did not place unbounded confidence. She was appalled at what Gavar told her, and two days after the explanation, she had had with Cunuch, she came in from Market very pale. She made a sign to her husband to follow her into the dining-room. She closed the doors and then turned toward him. Your brother, then, is determined to send us all to the scaffold, is he? Why do you have any concealments from me?

Knew swore that he did not know what she meant, and then promised her never to set foot again inside the cabaret. She shrugged her shoulders. You will do wisely, she answered. unless you wish to leave your skin there. Florein will get himself into trouble. I see it. I feel it.

Then after a moment's silence, she added, more calmly, What a foolish fellow he is. He might live here in the clover if he chose, but no, he must dabble in politics. He will ruin himself and us, too. Kenu this must end. I told you so, you remember? Kenu caught his breath.

He knew what was coming. he shall eat here no more she said it is enough for him to sleep here he makes money let him buy his own food can he tried to protest but she closed his lips by exclaiming then choose between him and us i swear to you that i will take my daughter and go away if he remains i shall speak the plain truth to you now he is in my opinion a bad man who has brought only trouble into our home but i will soon settle it you must choose between him and me Kenu was breathless, and she left him and returned to the shop where she weighed out a half-pound of patte de foie with her affable smile. Gavard, in a hot political discussion to which she had adroitly led up, had said that she would soon see strange things, and made several veiled illusions which disturbed her greatly. Her imagination at once depicted armed police picking up Kenu, Pauline and herself, by the napes of their necks and incarcerating them in a prison. She was icy in her demeanor that night toward Florein. She did not help him to any dish on the table and said several times.

It is strange how much bread we eat lately. Florent at last understood that he was treated like a poor relation of whom one wishes to get rid. He had worn Canu's old clothes for the last two months, and as Canu was fat and he thin, the effect of these garments was most remarkable. Lisa also handed him over her husband's old linen. the ragged towels and sheets were sent to his room, and he no longer was treated in other ways with the consideration which had been shown him.

Little Pauline made remarks which wounded him in regard to the shabbiness of his garments. These remarks about the red were more than he could endure. Kenu did not look up and pretended not to notice what was going on. Laurent, however, did not know how to get away. For a week he tried to find words in which to say that he thought he should prefer to take a his meals elsewhere. His gentle nature cherished the illusion that he should wound his brother and

sister-in-law by this proposition. He was unwilling to admit even to himself the hostility which Lisa felt toward him, nor did he once think so great was his unselfishness of his money, which his sister-in-law held in her hand. He thought with what remained to him of his salary and with the proceeds of the lessons he gave one pupil that he could spend 18 sous for his breakfast and 26 for his dinner. At last, one morning he said that, as he found it impossible to be punctual at his meals, that he would take them when and where he could. He colored as he said this.

La Belle Lisa was cold and stately, which troubled him greatly. She had determined not to take the initiative, but to wait until he spoke himself. And now she should get rid of him without any disagreeable scene. But Conew exclaimed in some agitation, eat just where you please, my dear fellow. You will remember, however, that it is your own fault if you go. You will dine with us sometimes on Sunday, however. Laurent hastily left the room, for his heart was very full,

and Lisa, when alone with Cunuch, did not venture to reproach him for the weakness of which he had been guilty in this invitation for Sundays. She was victorious, and she drew a long sigh of satisfaction, and wanted to burn some sugar to get rid of the fishy smell which she said haunted her. At the end of a week she was not as well satisfied. She saw Florent very rarely, and she took it into her head that he was manufacturing some infernal machine up in the attic, or arranging some system of signals from his window. Gavard was apparently despondent.

He left his shop in Marjolin's care for a day at a time, and fidgeted to and fro. La Belle Lisa determined on a master blow. She knew that Florent had asked for a few days' holiday, and proposed to pass to, them with Claude Lancie at Nantere with Madame Francois. Lisa went to invite Gavard to dinner, but she could not find him. Mergeline was alone in the shop. End of Chapter 4, Part 1. Chapter 4, Part 2 of the Markets of Paris by Emil Zola.

This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Chickweed for the little birds, part 2. High above his head hung fat geese and dead rabbits with frightened eyes. Pigeons and ducks, as yet unplucked, were on the counter. Three superb turkeys specked with blue, like a chin that has been freshly shaved, lay on their backs, while in plates were the livers, hearts and gizzards, claws, necks, and pinions. Mertelais, among all this food, with his smooth, glossy skin, looked as if he too were good to eat. When he saw La Belle Lisa, he started from his lounging position. He was always

more or less timid in her presence, and stammered in reply to her question that he did not know where Monsieur Gavard was. He had been there an hour before, but had gone away, without saying when he would return. She stooped to caress a rabbit in a box, saying as she did so. Do you not think you could find him? He may be in the poultry-rooms in the cellar, answered Margelland. I will wait for him then, said Lisa. Or better still, why can't I go down there? I have wanted to go for five years. and you will show me the way, will you not?' The youth stammered forth a confused expression of willingness to do anything she desired.

But the heavy air of the cellar suffocated La Belle Chacutier. She stood on the steps and looked up at the arched ceiling and at the heavy columns. She hesitated on account of the penetrating odor. The exhalation from living creatures which scorched her throat with their alkalis. The smell is horrible, she said. It would not be healthy to live here. I am perfectly well, madame, said Mergellay, much astonished. The smell is not so bad when one is accustomed to it.

She followed him, saying that the smell disgusted her with fowls, and she should not want to eat any for two months. The poultry houses stood in straight lines with occasional gaslights between, and the aspect was that of a village at midnight when all its inhabitants are asleep. At each corner was a long blue board, on which were inscribed the names of the tenants. m gavard is away at the back said the young man they turned into a dark corner but no gavall was to be seen never mind madame i will show you the fowls myself for i have a key la belle lisa followed and stumbled against him if you think she said that i can see anything in this darkness you are very much mistaken he did not reply instantly but at last stammered that there was always a candle inside that he could light but he fumbled a long time over the law She tried to assist him and felt his breath hot on her neck.

When he lighted the candle, she saw that his hands trembled. Simpleton, she cried, the idea of getting into such a state of excitement because a door can't be opened. I should think you were a nervous girl. Gavall had hired two compartments and made them into one poultry room by taking away the partitions. Turkeys, geese, and ducks were picking in the dungheaps, while on shelves built in three rose, one above another, were boxes with gratings over them containing chickens and rabbits.

The place was incredibly dirty and hung with gray spider's webs. But Lisa was too civil to show her disgust. She looked into the boxes and compassionated the poor chickens who were shut out from the light of day and could not even stand and move about. The young man showed her a duck whose leg was broken and said they should kill him that evening for fear he would die during the night. But, she said, when do they eat? He explained that they did not eat without light, and that he or Gabba was obliged to light a candle, and wait until the creatures had got through their meals. I like to watch them, he continued. It is droll to see them fight. Sometimes I shade the light with my hand, and they stand perfectly still, and then put their

heads under their wings, as if the sun had set. It is against the regulations to go away and leave a light here. One of the poultry-woman nearly said, the place on fire the other day. Your poultry require a good deal of waiting on, said Lisa, if they must have a candle lighted for each meal. As she spoke she passed out of the room, raising her skirts from out of the filth. He blew out the candle and locked the door.

She hurried on, not liking to be left with this youth in the darkness. When he joined her, she said, I am glad to have seen this. There are certainly many odd things under the hall. I am very much obliged, but I must hurry home now. If M. Gavar comes in, pray tell him that I must speak to him at once. He is probably at the abattage, answered Margelland. Let us go and see.

She did not reply. The close air of the place made her very uncomfortable, and it annoyed her to have Margelein so close to her. He breathed hard, too, as if the air affected him also. She stepped back a little, and motioned to him to proceed her. She fancied that her companion guided her in a very roundabout way. When they came out of her, in front of the underground railway, he told her that he wanted to show it to her.

They stood for a few moments, looking through the beams of the protecting wall. On their way back, they found Mother Palette in front of her poultry house, taking the cords off a large basket, from which a furious noise of wings and claws were heard. When she loosened the last knot, the geese within, raised the cover with their powerful heads and escaped, running and flying with loud hisses, which resounded through the arched cellar. Lisa could not help laughing, while the poultry woman swore like a pirate and succeeded in catching two, while Margele started in pursuit of a third. He was heard running at full speed, laughing and much amused by this unlooked-for fro frolic. Then there was a sound of a struggle,

and he soon returned with the bird. Mother Palette, an old yellow woman, took it and held it for a moment in the position of the antique Lita. I don't know I am sure what I should have done, Margele, if you had not been here. The other day I fought with one, but I had my knife and cut its throat at last. Margealin was all out of breath, and Lisa caught a strange light in his eyes, as together they reached the abatage. Generally, he dropped his eyes when she spoke to him. For the first time, she realized his superb beauty, his square shoulders, and his bright complexion and blonde hair. She looked at him with a frank admiration which women often fearlessly evinced toward very young men. he became once more timid and embarrassed you see that m gavard is not here she said and i am wasting my time he explained to her the abattage showed her the huge blocks of stone lighted by gas

one woman was plucking chickens which led him to say that they often plucked them alive because it was so much easier he told her to take up a handful of the feathers which were piled up there and said they were sold at nine sous the pound she put her hand into the baskets of down he called her attention to the water faucets at each pillar and told her that all spots of blood were washed up every two hours by men whose a special duty it was he added that in great rain-storms the water often invaded these cellars once to the height of three centimeters on which occasion he was obliged to take all his poultry to the upper end he laughed as he described the fright of the creatures he finished by showing her the ventilators which carried off all bad odours this seemed to her a ridiculous thing to say so thoroughly was the air impregnated by the amoniated smell of the guano margeline seemed in a state of suppressed excitement and was no longer timid you are a good boy said la belle lisa to have shown me all this when you come to my shop i will give you something forgetting his age and remembering only that she had known him since his babyhood she took him by the chin as she spoke if her hand lingered it was unconsciously though she was by no means as calm as usual herself he at this caress glanced quickly around assured himself that no one was near and caught la belle lisa by the waist and threw her into a huge crate of feathers she pale and trembling at this brutal attack sprang up and raised her large round arms and struck a blow just such a blow just such a great of feathers she pale and trembling at this brutal attack sprang up and raised her large round arms and struck a blow just such a blow just such a as she had seen struck at the abattoir there between the eyes he fell and his head struck one of the stones at this moment a cock crowed loudly the belle lisa was chilled through and through her lips were white over her head she heard the dull roar of the hall through the gratings came the street sounds and she thought that only the strength of her own arms had saved her she shook off the feathers that had adhered to her skirts fearing to be seen and with

Without a glance at Marjolins, she hurried to the staircase. Daylight and the feshire were a great relief. She entered her shop, perfectly calm, and only a little paler than usual. Where have you been so long? said Kenu. Looking for Gavar, she answered quietly, I could not find him, and we must eat our leg of mutton without him. She filled up several pots with lard, prepared some chops for her friend, Madame Taburot, whose little servant was waiting. As she broke the bones with her mallet, she thought of Margellan lying in the cellar,

but felt no pang of self-reproach. She had only done her duty. She looked at Cunieu. He certainly was very plain, and his skin was very rough, and his chin far from velvety, while the skin and the chin of the other were like down. She said to herself with a sigh that it was a pity for children to grow up so fast. Kenu was struck by her beauty. You ought to go out oftener.

he said, "'If you wish, we will go to the theatre sometimes, to the Gaetet, where Madame Tabouro saw that play she liked so much.' Lisa smiled and said she would see, and then went out again. Kenu thought she was very good

to run after Gavard in that way, but she had only gone upstairs to Florence's room, the key of which hung on a nail in the kitchen. She hoped, as she could not get hold of Gavar, to make some discoveries here. She went about the room, examined the bed,

and looked at the mantelshelf. The window was, open and the plants were drinking in the soft air. She could not find the smallest trace of Florence's presence. She was astonished at this. She touched Augustine's dress still hanging in the corner and then took a seat at the table reading a half-finished page in which the word revolution occurred several times. She was frightened at this and opened the door which she saw was full of papers. She sat looking at them when the bird uttered a long, shrill cry. She started and realized the ignominy of the act she was about to commit.

She closed the drawer. She went to the window, and standing there, said to herself that she would take counsel of the Abbe Rustin, a man of good, sound sense. As she mechanically looked down on the square below, she beheld Cadine weeping in the center of a crowd, while Florein and Claude were talking earnestly together, a little apart. She hurried downstairs, surprised at their speedy return.

Hardly was she established behind her counter than Mademoiselle Sages. entered saying, Come and see poor Marjolais, madame. He was found in the cellar unconscious, and a great gash cut in his head. Lisa hurried across the street. The youth lay with his eyes closed,

and his fair hair stained with blood. Someone among the crowd said it was nothing, that it was his own fault, that he was always foolhardy and jumping over the tables at the abatage. This was one of his favorite amusements, and he had undoubtedly fallen in that way. Memoiselle Sager

pointed to the weeping Cadine. Probably that little scamp pushed him. They are always in mischief. Mergelin, revived by the fresh air, opened his eyes. He caught sight of Lisa's face bending over him and smiled faintly. He did not seem to remember anything that had taken place. Lisa said calmly that he ought to be taken at once to the hospital. She would go and see him and carry him some delicacies.

He was put on a litter and Cadine followed it, still with her wicker tray suspended around her neck, and her bunches of violets stuck into the moss, which she watered with her hot tears. As Lisa entered her shop, she heard Claude say to Florein as they were separating. That boy has spoiled my day, but we did have a good time. Claude and Floreen had indeed brought back with them something of the fresh air of the country. That morning, before daybreak, they went to find Madame Francois, who had just sold her last vegetable. They then, the three together, went to the Compad d'Or and the Rue Mont-Oargue for the wagon. This was almost a foretaste of the country.

Behind the restaurant Philippe, whose gorgeous gilding illuminated the entire lower floor, was a regular farmyard, smelling of fresh straw and warm dung. Young chickens and hens picked the soft earth, stalls and sheds of all sorts and sizes were built against the neighboring houses. Balthazar, all-harnessed, was eating his oats comfortably under shelter. He was nevertheless quite ready to return to Nantère, but he did not go back unloaded. The market woman had made a bargain with the company who had contracted to keep the hall clean. She carried home with her three times in the week, a load of refuse taken up with a pitchfork from the heap swept together in the center of the square,

which was a valuable addition to her manure heap. Clod and Florent lay on the coarse sheet she spread over these green leaves. Madame Francois took the reins and Balthasar started forth. his head a little low on the account of the unusual burthen he carried. This visit had been long talked of. The market woman was as gay as a lark. She liked the two men, and promised them such a breakfast as they had never eaten in that miserable place, Paris,

and they enjoyed the prospect of the long idle day before them. Are you comfortable? asked Madame Francois as she turned into the rue Poneff. Yes, as cosy as two peas in a pod, answered Claude gaily. He lay on his back watching the stars paling in the sky and the growing light in the east. They listened to the good woman talking to Balthazar.

Take your ease, old fellow, she said softly. We are in no such great hurry. They reached the Chancesizier and the painter saw trees on either side and beyond the green mass of the gardens of the Tuileries. As they passed the Rue du Roule,

he looked at the side door of St. Hu St. St. Hu St. St. St. St. Do you know, he said suddenly, that iron is destined to kill stone? It is not by accident that we see St. Eustache through one of the long avenues of Le Hall. It is a fatality. It is modern art, realism, nature, whatever you may choose to call it, which has grown up in the face of ancient art. You do not agree with me?

As Florent did not speak, he continued, This church is not a pure architecture. The Moyniage is dying in it, and the Renaissance is not yet on its feet. But have you noticed the churches which are built in these times? They are like observatories, libraries, hospitals, like anything, in fact, but churches. And it would be difficult to convince me

that Le Bon Dieu looks upon them as suitable. The masons who loved him are dead, and it would be wiser not to erect any more of these ugly constructions. Since the beginning of this century but one original monument has been built, the natural outgrowth of the epoch, and this is the hall. These markets, I tell you, are a timid revelation of the spirit of the twentieth century, and this is why St. Eustache is nearly obscured.

There it stands empty, while the hal have grown up around it, crowded with life. Look at Baltazar, said Madame Francois, laughing. The woman who brought you safely into the world earned her money, for you make even animals listen to you when you speak. the carriage went slowly on at this early hour the avenue was deserted there were no rows of chairs on the sidewalk and the turf lay dark under the trees at the rompont a lady and gentleman on horseback passed and floren closed his eyes the better to enjoy the sweetness of the fresh breeze he was happy in getting away from the hall happy to breathe an air uncontaminated by the smell of food they say continued clod that industry kills poetry and the fulls fools weep over flowers as if anyone proposed to hurt the flowers. These people fret me to death.

I want to answer their moans by a work which they must needs except as a defiance. It would amuse me to startle these good people a little. Shall I tell you the thing which pleases me best of all I have ever done in my life? It is quite a story. Last year on Christmas Eve, I was at my aunt Lisa's, and that goose of a fellow, Oguist, was dressing the shop windows and the counter. I looked on until I could bear it no longer and told him I would do it myself. You see, I had all the strong colors I required.

The red of the tongues, the yellow of the small hams, blue in the paper, pink in the delicate slices which were cut, green in the carrot and lettuce leaves, in such a black as I could never find on my palette in the blood puddings. The sausages, chitterlings, and breaded pig-speak gave me delicious tones of gray. I made a superb thing of it. it. I took my dishes, plates, jars, and bottles, and massed them together. I arrayed the tongues so that they looked like scarlet flames, and a large truffled turkey lay in the center. I tell you, it was simply superb, and the crowd that gathered before the window thought the

same. But Aunt Lisa, when she appeared, was quite shocked, and bad Auguste arranged the window as usual. And of course he did not grasp the idea of the Reds being brought out by the Grace, and of course it was hopeless to try and make him see it. Never mind. It was the best thing I ever did. Clod sank into silence, smiling at his thoughts. The wagon had reached the Act of Triumph. The wind blew strongly down the various open avenues around the immense square. Florein leaned out and drank in the breath of the green grass which blew toward him from the fortifications. At the top of La Rue de Lonschamp, Madame Francois showed him the place where she had picked him up. He fell into a deep reverie, and as he looked at the marketwoman, he thought

her look of health and benignant sweetness of expression made her more beautiful than Lisa. When they reached Nautaire, the carriage turned to the left and entered a narrow lane running along the walls, and stopped in an enclosure from which there was no outlet. It was the end of the world, the market woman said. There they were to leave their load of cabbage leaves and green stuff. Claude and Florent bade the boy who was planting out lettuce to go on with his work, while they, armed with pitchforks, throughout the heap. This amused them, and Claude had a good deal to say about the refuse from the market being sent back again

in the form of new generations of vegetables and fruits. Paris consumed everything, returned everything to the earth, which in due time repaired all damages. There is a cabbage stump which I recognize. nice, said Claude, as he took up the last on his pitch-pork. This is the tenth time at the very least that it has grown up in that corner by the apricot tree. Laurent laughed, but his smiles faded as he walked on. Claude was making a sketch, and Madame Francois was preparing breakfast. This garden was a long, narrow strip from the extremity of which he could see the low casemates of Mont Valerienne,

which were divided by row after row of evergreen hedges from the little garden of Madame Francois. A great piece brooded over the landscape. The May sunshine had brought out insect life, and a gentle humming of bees fell upon the stillness. The garden was laid off in squares, sorrel and spinach, radishes, carrots, and beets. Cabbages and potatoes stood in regular lines,

while peas and beans were sunning out their slender tendrils. Not a weed was to be seen. The ground looked as if it were swept every morning. Borders of time put a gray fringe to the two sides of the wide path. Florent enjoyed this breath of time, brought out by the hot sun. He loved the country in all growing things.

For a year he had seen none except those torn from the ground. He liked to see the vegetables here, whole and hearty. The cabbages were luxuriant, the carrots were gay, and the salads looked contented and crisp. The markets which he had left behind him he looked back upon as a vast cemetery, where only dead things lay.

The noise and the smell of the fish market seemed to him a thing of the past. Yes, Claude was right. The earth was life, the cradle and the health of the world. Your omelet is ready, cried the marketwoman from the door. When the three sat round the table with the sunshine streaming in at the open door, they were all so gay that Madame Francois looked at Florein in astonishment. I declare, she said, you are ten years younger. Your eyes have a laugh in them that.

that I never saw there before. You ought not to live in a city. Come and live here. But Clod interfered. He said that Paris was superb. He even defended the gutters, although he admitted that he adored the country. In the afternoon,

Florent and Madame Francois were alone in a corner of the garden where a few fruit trees were planted. She was giving him some maternal advice. She asked him what he meant to do with himself, and her questions evidently arose from friendly interest. with no admixture of curiosity he was deeply touched for no woman had ever before shown so much interest in him she reminded him of a healthy out-of-door plant while lisa clare and la normand were doubtful and arranged for sale so to speak

about five o'clock the two men started for paris they were going to walk and madame francois went to the end of the lane with them she there took florence's hand come here she said if you are ever in sorrow for a half-hour florin walked on in silence feeling that he left health safety and happiness behind him the road was white with dust clouds of which arose each time they brought their feet down the sun was low and their shadows stretched far upon the opposite sidewalk clode with swinging arms took long regular strides and looked at their shadows then arousing himself as if from a dream he said do you know the battle of the fat and the lean floren said no in some surprise, whereupon Clod went off into an enthusiastic praise of this series of engravings. He described certain ones. The fat men, enormously stout, preparing for their evening gourmandizing, while the thin men, bowed by fasting, looked in from the street with covetous eyes, and then again the fat ones at table with cheeks stuffed full, dismissing a lean one, who had been audacious enough to enter and who looked like a needle among bullets. He saw in this

the drama of human life and ended by classifying men into the fat and the lean, natural enemies were the one devoured the other. You may be sure, he said, that Cain was fat and able thin. Ever since the first murder, there has always been a constant battle of the strong against the weak, each swallowing his neighbor and being swallowed in turn. So look out, my boy. Distrust fat people as a rule. He relapsed into silence and watched their shadows. we are the thin ones you see tell me as flat as we are with no bellies to speak of ought we to claim much sunshine floren smiled but clod was in earnest

you may laugh he continued but it is no laughing matter if i were fat i should paint quietly have a fine studio and sell my pictures for their weight in gold instead of that i am thin and when i die i shall probably be put between two leaves of a book instead of having a coffin bought in which to bury me decently, as would be the case where I double my weight. But you are worse than I. You are really the king of lean men. Do you remember the day you quarreled with the fishwomen? It was a magnificent sight. Their heaving breasts and broad shoulders, in contrast to your meager form.

They acted as I tell you. Their instinct was to drive the thin man from among them, for the fat dislike and distrust the thin. And were I you, I should act on these suggestions. The canues are fat, so are the Mahoudans. In fact, you are surrounded by fat people. I should get out of it if I were you. And Gavar, Mademoiselle Sajet and your friend Marjolet, what of them?

asked Florent still smiling. Oh, I will classify all your acquaintances, if you say so. I have had every one of their heads in my portfolio for a long time, with the indication of the order to which they belong. It is a chapter of natural history. Guevar is a fat man, but wishes to be included among the thin. That is quite a common variety. Mademoiselle Sagin and Madame Le Carre are thin,

and much to be feared, as they are ready to commit any enormity in order to be enrolled among the fat, while Marjolin, Cadine and La Seriette are among the fat, but they are as yet so young that their worst qualities are not developed. It is worthy of remarked that the young belonging to the fat class are altogether charming. Your political acquaintances, of course, are among the thin. The painter rambled on in this way all the way from the Pondonoguille to the Arc de Triomphe. But where do you place Madame Francois, said Florent, finally.

Claude was considerably embarrassed by this question. He hesitated. Madame Francois, Madame Francois, no, I do not know just where to place her. She is a good woman and that is. enough. They both laughed. At this moment they stood before the Act of Therillon. The sun was so low in the horizon that their colossal shadows fell upon the monument, higher even than the enormous statues like two dark stains. See here? cried Claude as he took his friend's arm. If we go on like this, when the sun has set our two heads will touch the sky. But Florent laughed no more. Paris had reabsorbed him. That Paris which ever since

since his sojourn at Cajian he had regarded with terror and distrust. When he reached the hall, the smells were suffocating, and he bowed his head, ready to take up again the burthen of his nightmare, haunted by a longing for the country, and the breath of time. End of Chapter 4. Chapter 5 Part 1 of the Markets of Paris by Emisoula. This Liebervox recording is in the public domain. Duty Before All.

Part 1. The next day, about four o'clock, Lisa went to church. She had made, in honor of this intention, a very careful toilette, a black silk and a French cashmere shawl. Le Belle Normand watched her until the door of St. Eustache closed upon her. Lisa was not religious and made no pretensions to being so, said that she wished to do her duty to her neighbors and to herself. But she did not allow anyone to speak lightly of religion in her presence,

and always silenced Kava when he wished to narrate some vile stories of priests and nuns. She was politic and wished to respect everyone's scruples. Besides, so far as she knew, priests were worthy of all respect. She knew personally the Abbe Rustin at St. Justache and had the greatest regard for him.

She insisted that most people needed the daily guidance of religion. She looked upon it as she did on the police as necessary to maintain order and without which no government could possibly stand. When Gavar declared that someday Cure would be nowhere, she would shrug her shoulders impatiently. When Lisa therefore went to church, her demeanour was very quiet.

She had purchased a beautiful prayer-book, which she opened only at the marriage and burial services. She stood and she knelt at the right moments with all due solemnity. In her opinion, it was only right that respectable settled people should have a certain regard for the outward observances of religion. On the day of which we write, the fair charcutier, on entering St. Eustache, let the inner door, covered with green cloth, slipped softly from her hand. She dipped her fingers in the Benizier and crossed herself correctly. Then, with a soft footfall, she went on to the Chappelle of St. Agnes, where two women, kneeling with their faces in their hands, waited for the third,

whose blue dress was seen surging over the threshold of the confessional. Lisa seemed to be annoyed, and she said to a beadle who was passing, "'Does the Abbe Rustin confess to-day?' He replied that Monsieur Labbe would not be long now, and if she did she do, chose to take a chair, her turn would soon come. She thanked him, but did not say that she had not come for confession. She determined to wait, and walked about the church softly, went down to the door, and looked up the center aisle to the altar. The church was nearly empty, but from the confessional came a low whispering.

She went toward it, and beheld the blue robe still at the feet of the Abbe Rustant. Mercy, she said to herself, I could tell all my sins in ten seconds. back of the great altar in the shadow of the double rows of pillars, the chapel of the Virgin is always dark and silent. Women are always there, kneeling in prayer. Lisa stood looking about. She was not nervous, but she vaguely wondered why they did not light the lustres. It would be much gayer than those triangular candlesticks

which dropped their wax constantly. An old woman was at that moment taking up the large drops with a broad-bladed knife. And in this profound sight, she heard the roar of the fiacre, rolling through the street behind the red and purple saints on the windows. As she was about to leave the chapel, she saw Claire, the youngest Mahoudan enter. She lighted a candle and then knelt down behind a pillar, so pale and disheveled that she looked as if she were dead. Believing that no one saw her, she abandoned herself to an agony of prayer and tears. Lisa was utterly amazed. Never had she supposed that one of the Mahoudans was religious.

claire in fact usually spoke of religion and of priests in a fashion that was enough to make one's hair rise on one's head what on earth has got into her said lisa as she went again toward the other end of the church can the creature have poisoned any one of her men at last the abb emerged from his confessional he was a handsome man of forty with a good kindly face when he saw madame kunu he shook hands with her and called her dear madame led her into the vestry where he took off surplus, and then the two came out again. He bareheaded in his sultan, and they walked up and down one of the aisles talking in low voices. The sun was low and shown on the long windows, but the church was gradually going very dark. Lisa explained all her troubles to the Abbey. There was never any question of religion between them. She never went to confession, but she had formed the habit of consulting him on all critical questions. He was always patient with her. He had advised her in regard to her investments, untied the knot of many difficult

matters, recommended tradespeople, and in short, showed himself to be a most useful friend, having an answer ready to all questions, no matter how complicated they might be, without seeking any personal benefit or any glory for religion. A word of thanks and a smile was enough. He always seemed glad to oblige this handsome woman, of whom his housekeeper always spoke with so much respect. this occasion, the matter under discussion was a most delicate one, for he was, by no mean sure to what extent she was authorized and interfering with her brother-in-law's movements. She asked this question, and also several others, among them where she could go with her

child in case of absolute danger. She wished to know if she could watch, Florent, and examine his papers in order to guard her husband, daughter, and herself from the consequences of his imprudence. She did not ask these questions brutally. She weighed each word she uttered, and they were so well chosen that the Abbe was not compelled to enter into any personalities. His answers were somewhat contradictory, but he ended by saying that an honest nature had the right to prevent evil, or rather that it was his duty to prevent evil, even if to do so he were obliged to employ somewhat questionable means. This is my opinion, dear lady, he said in conclusion.

This question of means is always a most troublesome one, and one which is a great pitfall for careless feet. But I know your honesty. Weigh each one of your acts, and if your conscience is satisfied, go on boldly. Honest natures have the marvellous faculty of putting something of their own honesty into all they

touch. And with a sudden change of tone, he added, say to Monsieur Canou that I am glad to hear that he is well, and to dear little Pauline that I am going to see her soon. O'Revoir, dear lady. May all go well with you. He returned to the vestry, and Lisa as she went out, had the curiosity to see if Claire was still kneeling.

But Claire had returned to her carp and her eels, and before the chapel of the Virgin, there was nothing but several turned over chairs to indicate that anyone had been there. When Lisa crossed the square again, Lennon Monde, who had been watching for her, knew her by the amplitude of her skirts, dark as it had grown. "'Well, well,' she said, "'the creature has been there more than an hour. What now, I wonder?' The next morning, Lisa went up to you.

to Florein's room. She was quite sure that she should not be disturbed, but was prepared to say, if Florentch had chance to come in, that she wanted to measure the bed for new sheets. Taking her seat at the little table, she took out the drawer, emptied it carefully,

and, as she examined the papers, replaced them just as she found them. She examined the first chapters of the work on Cayenne, then the rough sketches of the proposed changes of the organization of the market. These pages of fine writing

did not interest her in the least, and she was about to replace the drawer convinced that it was elsewhere that Florent concealed the evidences of his infamous plots. Suddenly, her hand fell on an envelope which contained a photograph of La Belle Normande. The photograph was too dark. La Normand stood with her right arm resting on a broken pillar, and she wore all her trinkets, a much trimmed black silk, and an insolent smile. Lisa forgot her brother-in-law and the terrors which had sent her there. She was absorbed in one of those contemplations with which a woman, when not afraid of being seen, examines another woman.

Her rival, past, present, or to come. She looked at the hair, the nose and the mouth, held the photograph at a distance, and then scrutinized it closely. She turned it over, on the back was written, Louise, to her friend Florent. She was tempted to take possession of this cart and use it at some future time against her adversary. She decided, however, that this would not do, that it was not right. Besides, could she not always find it where it was? The idea then struck her that she had not looked at the back of the drawer among Augustine's needles and cottons.

Between the prayer-book and the Book of Dreams, she found that for which she was looking. The most compromising notes protected simply by a sheet of grey paper. The idea of a rising, of the tearing down of the empire, advanced one night by L'Augre had slowly ripened in Florent's brain. He fancied now that it was his duty, his mission, and the end for which he had been allowed to return from Cayenne. He had formed a plan to induce the Hald to rise in open revolt. As they held the supplies for this great city they had, he felt, the matter in their own hands.

Florent was unhappy all day long. His avocations were utterly distasteful to him. He slept but indifferently, and when he returned from the cabaret late, he had nothing to do but to write and prepare the famous insurrection. He had divided Paris into twenty sections, each having its chief, a sort of general, who had under his orders twenty lieutenants commanding twenty companies. Each week a consultation would be held by these chiefs, each time in a different place. He deemed it advisable also, that each one of these companies, should believe themselves charged with some imaginary mission, which would almost effectually bewilder the police.

As to the setting these forces in operation, the means were simple enough. They would simply await the first political excitement after their organization was complete, and then they would take advantage of it. The details of this vague outline Florent worked upon regularly every evening, as if it had been a drama he was writing, and sketched them on scraps of paper which each demonstrated to a keen observer,

the mingled shrewdness and childishness of their author. When Lisa had looked over these papers, they fell from her trembling hands. She felt as if she dared not touch them any more than she would have handled gunpowder. One note terrified her more than the others. It was a half-sheet of paper on which Florent had drawn with colored crayons,

the form of the insignia which should distinguish the chiefs and the lieutenants. This fact that the generals were to wear red scarfs brought the danger well home to Lisa. She saw the crowd pass before her shop and fire through her beautiful plate-glass windows, shattering her mirrors and her marble counters. Her brother-in-law seemed to have attacked her personally, and by his nefarious projects ruined her happiness.

She closed the door and looked around the room. Could it be possible that she had sheltered this man? That he had slept in this bed, and that these incendiary doctors, were in the drawer of that innocent-looking table which she had so long use at uncle Gredel's before her marriage. She stood motionless, wondering what she had best do. First, it was useless to attempt any dwelling of Kenu. He would never do what she wanted, as she wanted him. She almost decided on an explanation with Florent, but she feared that he would simply take himself off and compromise them as much somewhere else. On the whole, it was best to

keep him under her observation. She should know then the first danger, and be able to take the requisite steps to avoid it. When she went into the shop, she found Augustine in a state of great excitement. Pauline had not been seen for an hour. To Lisa's impetuous questions, she could only say, she was on the sidewalk by the door with a little boy. I was looking at them, but several customers came in, one after another, and I waited upon them, and it was some time before I missed the child.

it was much i am sure it was much answered the charcutier oh what a torment he is it was much pauline who wore a new dress that day wished to show it so she paraded up and down before the shop with all the tremendous gravity of a neat little girl who was afraid of getting herself and her fine clothes dirty her skirts were very short and stiffly starched setting out like those of a ballet-dancer showing her well-fitting cotton hose without one wrinkle and her shining boots which were as blue as the sky. Her white apron was low in the neck and displayed her white shoulders and dimpled rosy arms. She wore tiny turquoise earrings and a blue ribbon in her carefully brushed hair. There was something of her mother's tender sweetness

in the child expression, while her whole air was that of a French doll. Much over in the market had seen her. He had just put into the gutter some tiny dead waiting and as the water bore them away, he declared they were swimming. But seeing Pauline so fair and fresh, he forgot his fish, and dashed across the gutter, without shoes or stockings, his torn jackets showing his shirt.

His mother had absolutely forbidden him ever to play with that child whose parents stuffed her until she was ready to burst. But he cared little for this. He stood and looked at Pauline a minute or two, and then went nearer and touched her blue dress. Pauline was flattered, but she frowned and said pettishly. Do go away? My mother does not like me to play with you. At this much laughed immoderately.

Who cares? he answered promptly, already cherishing in his wicked little head a plan to soil the freshness of Pauline's pretty garments. The child's instinct must have told her this, for she retreated at once. Then he became more gentle. What a pretty little cross that is on your neck. Is it your mother's? Folline tossed her head and said it was her own. He coaxed her along as far as the corner of La Rue Pirouette.

He asked how her skirts could ever have been made so stiff at which the child colored with pleasure. But she was much annoyed that no one in the street seemed to notice her. Come along, said much, but the child refused. He held up a sou, and little Pauline followed it blindly. What do you like best? he asked. She did not reply at once, for the truth was that she liked many things. He named over several. Malasses, candy, gumballs, powdered sugar. The last made the child hesitate.

She could dip her finger into the sugar and suck it. It was awfully good. She was very serious, but suddenly, exclaimed, No, I like Cornet's best. He took her hand and led her on without any resistance. He took her hand, and led her on without any resistance. on her part. They crossed the rue Rambutou, following the wide sidewalk until they reached to grocers in the Rue de la Cossonery,

which was quite famous for his corne. Cornets are horns of paper in which confectioners put the debris of their bottles and boxes, broken sugar plums, maron glasses, which have crumbled to pieces,

and all such odds and ends. Much did things in very good style. He allowed Pauline to choose her cornet, which was blue to match her dress and laid down his. his soup. When Pauline was outside the shop, she opened the paper and poured the contents into the two pockets of her apron, and the pockets were so tiny that they bulged out. Then she began to eat

slowly and leisurely, wetting her finger to catch the tiniest crumb. This naturally melted the sugar, and soon two brown spots disfigured her dainty apron. Much laughed and mischievous glee and pulling her along, he said, Come and play, come and play. Come and play. They entered the square, which was the place where much had originally intended to take his conquest. He did the honors of the square as if it were his own domain. Never had Pauline been so far from home. The fountain was running, and Jean-Gargeau nymphs, bending over their urns, gave a touch of grace to the Kertsey-Sand-Denny. The children looked at the water falling into the huge basins and wondered if they could not creep under the evergreens against the railing.

Much, who had by this time succeeded in his fell in tension of crumpling the beautiful dress in the rear, now proposed that they should throw sand at each other. This proposition delighted Pauline's heart. They threw the sand which fell down the neck of the little one's dress and ran down to her shoes and stockings. Much was delighted at seeing the pretty white apron becoming a dirty yellow, but it was still far too clean in his eyes. I know how to make beautiful gardens, he said. "'Gardines,' murmured Pauline, full of admiration.

Then, as the police were not to be seen, he dug several holes in the gravel walk. She was on her knees in the middle of the soft earth, and would suddenly throw herself forward with her lovely little arms buried up to the elbows in the sand. He went to look for bits of wood and sprigs of verdure, and finally ventured to break off a branch from a tree. He stripped this branch into small bits, which he planted in the holes dug by Pauline, none of which he declared were deep enough. When at last their garden was made and she rose to her feet,

much was enchanted, for she was as dirty a little object as was ever seen. Her very hair was filled with sand. Now we must water them, he exclaimed, clapping his hands. They won't grow without water, you know. This was the finishing touch. They leapt the square, scooped up the water from the gutter in their hands, and ran back to water the plants in their garden.

Pauline, who was fat and did not know how to run, let all the water drip through her fingers, so that on the sixth journey she looked as if she had been rolled in the gutter. Much thought her prettier when she was dirty than when clean. He made her sit down and look at their garden, which, he declared, was growing. He took her hand and called her his little wife. "'You are not sorry you came, are you?' he asked.

"'I know lots of games, and we will play them all, only you must not say anything about it to Mama. If you do, I will pull your hair whenever I pass your shop. Pauline said yes again, while he, as a last bit of gallantry, filled the two pockets of her apron with earth. He gave her a little pinch out of pure mischief, and she began to cry.

Her sweets were gone, her garden was made, and she wished to go home. But much shook his head, and said he really did not know about that. the little girl began to sob and he would certainly have beaten her to compel her to hold her tongue had not mademoiselle suddenly appeared on the scene good heavens she cried can this be pauline let her alone you abominable little scamp the old maid took pauline by the hand with many exclamations at the pitiable state of her garments much was not in the smallest degree frightened he followed them shuckling over the success of his self-appointed task, and declaring vociferously that it was all the child's fault, she had insisted on going with him, and then she had fallen.

Mademoiselle Sagesse was familiar with this square. She often came there and took her seat on one of the benches among the common people. By her side some sallow woman was mending stockings or darning handkerchiefs, while watching her dirty children at play before her. Here she overheard many a bit of gossip that interested her. many a slanderous tale of the people of the Cartier, tales which emanated from the concierge and which wedded her curiosity to know more.

She soon learned who lived on every floor of the houses built on the three sides of the square. The restaurant barat interested her particularly with its wine shop and gay awnings. She liked to watch this pasteboard-like temple affixed to a decrepit old house. Behind the shades, she knew that good meals were being served all the time.

poline was now crying bitterly the old maid placed her on a bench near the gate and said come now don't cry any more the police will come if you do i will take you home to your mother and you know that i am your friend but the child could not restrain herself and mademoiselle saget allowed her to sob until she was tired the poor little image was indescribable she had wiped her tears away with her dirty little hands and she was mud to the roots of her hair when she was calmed down the old maid said sweetly your mother is good to you is she not she loves you yes yes murmured the child and your father is good too he never whips you and he never quarrels with your mamma what do they say at night when they go to bed i don't know i am always asleep do they talk about your cousin floren i don't know m m sages sagese put on a very severe look and rose as if to go away i am afraid you tell stories that is very wrong and if you can't speak the truth i shall go away and leave you with much much will whip you much who was leaning over the back of the bench said in his decided tone she is a little goose and she never hears anything but i know that my good friend florent turned every colour of the rainbow when my mother told him he could kiss her if he wanted to poline lifted up her voice now in a wail of childish agony hush said the old woman shaking her violently i am not going away i will buy you some sugar too if you are quiet then you do not like your cousin floren no mamma says he is not good there now you see your mamma did say something and one night i had monta sleeping with me one night she said to papa your brother

has escaped from the galleys, only to take us back with him. Memoiselle Sajaisais, uttered a sharp exclamation and started to her feet. Her ray of light struck her full in the face. She snatched Pauline's hand and hurried her along, her lips compressed, but a fierce light in her eyes. At the corner of La Rue Piroette, much suddenly disappeared, in spite of the reluctancy felt to lose the pleasure of seeing the child in her muddy stockings and ruined shoes received by her mother.

Lisa was devoured with anxiety. When she saw her little Pauline in this lamentable condition, she was so overwhelmed that she did not think of punishing her. The old woman said in her sharp voice, "'It is that by a little much. I bring her back to you, and you had best be very thankful. I found them under a tree in the square.' Lisa could not speak.

She did not know where to take hold of the child, whose skin was encrusted with dirt as was everything she wore. but she was most exasperated by the sand in the apron pockets she pointed to the door and said leave the room you dirty little creature mademoiselle sages was quite enlivened by this scene and left the shop in radiant spirits her slender feet flew over the pavement at last she knew the truth and flora was in her power she went to the fruit market have you won a prize in a lottery said la seriet gaily You seem to be very happy, judging by your smiles. Ah, my dear, if you only knew. La Sarriette was charming amid her fruits. Her sleeves were rolled above her elbows and looked like peaches with a down upon them.

She had hung cherries on her ears with a recollection of what she had done as a child. She had been eating berries, and her mouth was stained with their juice. Fruits were piled before her, while at the back of her stall lay melons and catalyps. Choice fruits were in baskets and reminded one of children's glowing faces seen through curtains of leaves. Peaches were especially superb. Apricots were amber tinted, and cherries were full and ripe. Apples and pears were piled high, next transparent prunes, while strawberries exhaled their exquisite perfume, the wood strawberries particularly. Raspberries added another odor to these, while baskets of grapes, large, heavy clusters of grapes,

hung over the side of the baskets, and let their seeds, browned and ripened by the warm kisses of the sun, fall slowly one by one. La Serriette lived here as in an orchard, intoxicated by odors. As the warm sun brought out the musky odors of the melons, La Serriette would loosen her fichu, and let more of her satiny throat be seen. Next her was an old woman who sold at her stall withered apples.

pairs which hung like pendulous breasts, and apricots that had a weird, sickly look, sulfur color speckled with red. But La Sariette's peaches were like her cheeks in the corners of her mouth. Her cherries, like her lips. She wanted to show Mademoiselle Sages some wonderful plums that had just come in,

but the old woman said, No, I have no time now. I must see Madame Le Carre. I have strange things to tell her. Come, if you choose. La Seriette could not resist the temptation, Mr. Jules was sitting nearby. Take care of my stall for a little while, will you?

She said. I will be back presently. He called out after her as she turned the corner. No, Lizette, I am going away. I do not choose to wait an hour as I did the other day. Your prunes give me the headache. And he walked off with his hands in his pocket, leaving the stall to take care of itself.

The two women were by this time out of sight and out of hearing. They were told that Madame Lacourne was a the cellar, and La Serriette went down to find her, leaving her companion among the cheeses. The cellar was very dark, for the gas lights were few and far between, and burned but dimly in the bad air. Madame Le Car was at work on her butter at one of the tables near the iron gratings on La du Berger, through which came a pale daylight. The tables were constantly washed by floods from the faucets and were as white as snow. Women were working over their butter. They took samples of different quality.

mixed them, corrected the flavor of one by adding more of another, just as is done with wines. They needed the mast before them with all their strength, and squeezed out every drop of buttermilk. "'Memoiselle Sager wishes to see you aunt,' said La Sarete. Madame La Cure stopped, straightened her cap with her buttery fingers regardless of spots. "'I have nearly done,' she answered. "'Tell her to wait.' "'She has something very interesting to tell you.' "'One moment,' was the reply.

she had plunged in her arms again. The butter came up to her elbows. It had been previously softened in tepid water, and oiled her parchment-like skin, from which the purple veins started out like whip-cords. La Seriette was disgusted by these ugly arms at work in this yellow mass, but she remembered that she had worked there many a long afternoon, and that this had been her paté d'amand which had preserved the beauty of her pretty little hands. "'I don't think your butter will be very good, Auntie. I have you, I have a can smell it here. To be sure you can, answered Madame Lacourre briskly, but it can't be helped. There are always people who are on the lookout for a bargain. La Serriette thought she would

not care to eat any of this butter. She looked into a little jar which was full of a sort of red dye. Your rancourt is too light. Rancourt is a preparation intended to give the butter a tempting hue. The butter-makers religiously preserve the secret of its manufacture. It is, in reality, composed of an otta seed, with an addition sometimes of carrots and a decoction of marigold flowers. Come, do come, said the young woman impatiently. Mademoiselle Sajet is in a hurry. She has heard something important about Uncle Gavard.

Madame Lacan wiped her arms hastily and followed her niece up the stairs, saying anxiously, Do you think she can have gone? But she was comforted by seeing Mademoiselle Sages standing among the cheeses. The three women sat down close to her. together. Memoiselle Sageset did not speak for two good minutes, and then she said, slowly, Do you wish to know where Florein comes from, and who he is? No one spoke. Very well. He comes from the galleys. End of Chapter 5, Part 1. Chapter 5, Part 2 of the Markets of Paris by Amisola. This Librevox recording is in the public domain.

Before All Part 2 The smell of cheese filled the air cheese from Brittany and from Normandy done up in cloths. By the side of prints of butter was a Chester and a greire. The first a bright gold colour, and the latter

looking like a gigantic wheel. Parmesan and Brie were on plates, a ruffalo nearby. Tiny cheeses of goat's milk were not especially tempting. Yes, repeated the old maid. He comes from the galleys. These Kenu Gradel need not be so fine. But Madame Lacourne and LaSeriette uttered exclamations of astonishment.

It was impossible. What had he done? Who would have imagined that Madame Kenu, proud as she was, would have chosen such a lover? You are all out, cried the old maid impatiently. Listen to me. I knew that I had seen the fellow somewhere. She told them Florent's story.

she recalled the vague reports which had once been current of a nephew of old grades having been sent to cayenne for having killed a half-dozen soldiers at a barricade she had seen him more than once herself and this was the very man she lamented that she was losing her memory she wept over the loss like a student who sees the wind carry off the notes amassed in a lifetime of labor six soldiers murmured la seriet he must be as strong as a lion and i dare say he has killed us many more since added mademoiselle sergey i should not like to meet him in the dark but said madame la carte if he is big lisa's brother-in-law he is not her lover they all looked at each other and then the old maid said primly i really don't see why not except interposed la seriette that you say he is the lover of the two mahoudans certainly he is but i don't care whose lover who's lover who's lover who's lover who's lover who's lover who's lover who's he is after all. It is all one to me, but he is a rascal. Of course he is, a thorough rascal, echoed the others. They then began to depict all sorts of catastrophes which would be likely to overtake the fair Lisa. This brother-in-law would certainly work her some evil, and then, why was he

at the hall? He must be projecting some terrible plot. They decided that new locks should be placed on the poultry cellars, while La Sariette reminded her aunt that only the week before someone had stolen a basket of peaches. But Mademoiselle Sagesége informed them loftily that the Reds never did such things as that. They would not condescend to touch a basket of peaches, but they would pillage and burn. Madame Le Carre turned pale. She saw the hal in flames, and Florent his associates bursting out on the devoted city. And he shares with Kenu old Grades' fortune, said Mamemoiselle.

Sessé. I should not think they would like his appearing among them in this way. She then went on to describe Lisa's finding this money and told the precise sum, which neither Kunu nor his wife had confided to anyone. It was clear that Florent had not received his portion or he would be better dressed. The three women rolled the sweet morsel under their tongues, but finally decided it were best not to attack La Belle Lisa, but turned their attention to Florent himself. I have seen, ma'oiseau. "'Moiselle Leonce,' said the old maid with a significant glance. "'The two others were very attentive.

"'Madame Leonce was Gavard's concierge. "'He lived in an old house which was occupied in the lower story "'by an importer of lemons and oranges. "'Madame Leonce kept house and carried the keys "'and made to Zan for the old gentleman when he was ill. "'She was a cold, severe-looking woman between fifty and sixty, "'speaking very slowly, and extremely aggrieved because Gavar had kissed her on one occasion.

Mademoiselle Sajet took coffee with her every Wednesday evening, and the two talked incessantly of the worthy poultry merchant. They were both very fond of him, and wished him to be happy. Yes, I saw Madame Léonce, repeated the old maid. I saw her last evening. She was in great trouble. It seems that Monsieur Gavar never goes home until after one o'clock. She had some hot soup ready for him Sunday night.

She knows what she is about, said Madame Lecoeur, bitterly. Memoiselle Sageset thought she ought to protect her friend. Not at all, you are quite mistaken. Madame Leonce is above her position. Had she chosen to feather her nest there, she could have done so long ago. He trusts everything to her, and that is why I wish to speak to you, but you must remember that I speak in confidence. They swore never to open their lips, and she said,

continued. Monsieur Gavard has bought a pistol and keeps it on a table at the side of his bed, and this is not all. His money, gasped Madame Lacourre, is all in his wardrobe. He has sold out all his securities and keeps gold on hand. Gold, interrupted La Sariette. Yes, a great pile of gold. Madame Leons told me that he opened the wardrobe one day in her presence,

and that it hurt her eyes. it was so bright. The eyes of the three women were distended as if they saw the gold before them. I wish my uncle would give it to me, all this beautiful gold, said La Seriette gaily.

Jules and I would have a very good time. Madame Le Courte had little to say. The thought of this gold crushed her to the earth. If I were you, said Mademoiselle Sajé, addressing her, I should watch over my own interests. This pistol shows

that Monsieur Gavard has bad advisers. They all three fell once more on Florein. They pulled him deliberately to pieces. They swore never to open their mouths, not out of regard to Florent, but to that worthy Monsieur Gavar. As they were about to separate, the butter merchant said,

Do you think we can trust, Madame Léons? You ask me too much, answered the old woman. I think her a very honest woman, but I by no means answer for her. her. You must judge for yourselves. The smell of the cheeses grew stronger and stronger, and yet it seemed as if the stench from the words uttered by the venomous tongues of these women was worse than all. I thank you sincerely, said the marketwoman, and if I am ever rich, I will show my gratitude with more than words. But Mademoiselle Sagesége still lingered.

She took up a tiny cheese, turned it over, and laid it down again. Then she asked the price, "'For me,' she added in an insinuating tone. "'To you, nothing,' answered Madame Lecair. "'I give it to you.' And she added, with a sigh, "'if I were only rich.' The cheese quickly disappeared in the basket. The butter merchant went down to the cellar,

and the old woman walked on with la seriette to her stall. "'It smells nicer here than at your aunt's place,' said Mademoiselle Sege. "'I really felt sick there.' but here everything is as sweet as yourself, my beauty. La Sariette laughed. She liked compliments and said as she sold some plums to a lady, that they were like sugar. I should like to buy some, too, said the old maid when the lady had gone.

Only I want so few. You see, one lone woman. Take a handful, cried the pretty brunette. It won't ruin me. Send Jill here, will you, if you see him? He is probably smoke. his cigar on the first bench to the right as you go out. Memoiselle sagesseigne lengthened her fingers to take up a handful of plums,

which she popped into her basket with the little cheese. She pretended that she was about to leave the hall, but she lingered still, not being quite content with her dinner of cheese and plums. She returned to the butter market, behind which were the stalls of cooked meats. Each morning, small, close wagons like boxes of zinc with trays and perforated sides, stopped at the doors of restaurants and at the ministers and ambassadors where the cooks sold the debris from the kitchen.

All this was sorted in the cellars at the market and as early as nine o'clock the plates were displayed at three and five sous, bits of meat, a wing of a bird, heads or tails of fish, vegetables, and ham. Other plates were devoted to the desserts, cakes a trifle broken, and bonbons which were almost whole. Hungry-looking women, clerks,

and boys stood at these stalls, among which Mademoiselle Sajé quietly slipped. She especially affected one woman who pretended that all she sold came from the tuileries, which was some consolation to the pride of the little old woman as she ate her slice of cold mutton. Next to her, on this occasion, stood a tall old man who was buying a plate of fish and meat mixed. M' Moseil Sager had her eyes on some fried white bait for three sous. She bargained the woman down and getting it for two sous, put it into her.

basket. The first movement of each purchaser at these stalls was to smell of the dishes. The odor about the place was not inviting, as it suggested dirty dishwater and grease. "'Come and see me to-morrow,' said the woman. There is to be a great dinner at the Tullery to-night, and I will put aside something nice for you.' M. M. Moseil Sajé said to come, and as she turned away she saw Gavar, who had heard. She turned very red, but pretended not to see him as she drew her shawl close about her thin shoulders and went away. He followed her a short distance, saying to himself that, the wickedness of this magpie did not astonish him

if she ate the things which were cooked at the tuileries. The next day, a vague rumor began to circulate in the hall. Mademoiselle Sajet showed her own peculiar skill. She allowed Mademoiselle Le Cour and La Sariette to say what they pleased while she held her tongue. The stories they said in circulation were more, extraordinary, beginning at first with a few words, expanding later, until Florein had killed ten gendarmes at the barricades. He had returned to France on a piratical craft, and ever since

his arrival had been busy with new plots. When the imagination of these women was let loose, they soon organized a band of smugglers and thieves who devastated Paris in the most systematic manner. They had a great deal to say about the inheritance which the Conugredale had appropriated, the general opinion was that floren had returned to obtain his rights and that he was only awaiting a good opportunity to pocket the hole some day the connecrades would be found dead in their beds for there were terrible quarrels every day there now when these stories reached la belle normand she shrugged her shoulders and laughed you are ridiculous she said the dear man is as gentle as a lamb she had just refused to marry m le bigre who had offered himself in due for form after innumerable little attentions. Every Sunday for two months he sent a bottle of liqueur to the Mahoudans. It was Rose who brought it with her submissive air and delivered it to La Normand with a

complimentary message, which she repeated accurately, apparently without being in the least annoyed by the strange commission. When Monsieur Le Bigre was dismissed, he sent Rose the next Sunday with two bottles of champagne and a huge bouquet, which seemed to indicate that he had not lost all hope. rose walked up to the pretty fishwoman and recited without a pause this madrigal from the wine merchant monsieur le bigre begs you to drink this to his health which has been much shaken by what you know of he hopes that you will be kind enough to cure him some day by being as beautiful and sweet as these bowers le normand was much amused she asked many questions of the woman about her master she asked if he wore suspenders and if he snored at night and then told her to take away the champagne and the bouquet "'Tell your master he must send me nothing more. You are a very obliging little woman.

I am sure. He told me to come,' answered Rose plaintively. And I think you are doing very wrong to treat him so cruelly. He is a very handsome man.' La Normand was entirely carried away by Florence's quiet consistency of character. She sat and listened to the instruction he gave to much night after night and made up her mind that she would marry this man who was so kind to her boy. She would keep her stall in the market, and he would be promoted to some higher position.

But this dream received no encouragement from anything in the manner of the professor toward her. He kept her at a distance when she was quite ready to fall into his arms. Florent might perhaps have yielded to her charms, but for his attachment to a little much. The idea, too, of a mistress in the same house with her mother and sister, revolted him. Le Normand learned the history of the man she loved with no small surprise, for never had he made the smallest delusion to it. She insisted on his talking to her now, and asked if he did not fear that the police would find him.

He reassured her, saying that it was too old a story and that they would not trouble themselves. One evening he told her about the woman on the boulevard Montmartre, the lady in the rose-colored bonnet and of the breast, pierced through all the soft muslins and laces whose blood had drenched his hand. The thought of her had haunted him all these years. She had gone with him to Guyana, and he had come back to France with a bewildered idea

that he should find her still lying on the sidewalk. Never, to this day, did he see a rose-colored bonnet and a shawl falling from the shoulders, without a sick feeling at his heart. When he closed his eyes, he could see her coming toward him with her sad, affrighted eyes and white lips.

He had never heard her name, and yet she was his model of all that was pure and good. It seemed to him that had he met her a few moments earlier, she would have gladdened his whole life. No, he would have no other wife. He would never marry. He did not say this, but his voice shook.

The feminine instinct of Lennermand grasped his meaning, and she became wildly jealous of the dead woman. It was a great pity you saw her, she said maliciously, because she could not have been very beautiful by that time. Florent turned pale. He never forgave La Belle Normand for this brutality, which forevermore compelled him to associate the idea of a charnel house with that pale face framed in rose-colored silk. By this time, La Belle Normande began to see that she was mistaken in thinking she had stolen

a lover from Lisa. This diminished her triumph so much that her love for Florent lessened considerably in the next week. But she was comforted by hearing about the fortune which La Belle Lisa was keeping from her brother-in-law. When Florent next came, as he sat writing copies, she said to him, What a strange idea that was of your uncles to put his money in a salting barrel? 85,000 francs is a very nice sum, but I dare say the Canuz lied and there was twice as much. If I were you, I would insist on my share at once.

I don't want it, answered Florent. I have no use for it. This was too much for her. She burst forth. "'Don't you understand that these people are cheating you?' Lisa passes over to you her husband's old linen and old clothes. "'I do not say this to wound you, but everyone sees it. You are wearing pantaloons that we have all seen on your brother for the last three years.

I should throw these old rags in their faces and ask for my money. Forty-two thousand francs, is it not?' "'Very well, then. I would not go out of the shop until I had them.' In vain did Florein explain that it, his sister-in-law had offered him his share, and that he could have it whenever he pleased. He entered into a lengthy explanation in order to convince her of Kenu's honesty. "'I know all about their honesty,' she exclaimed.

Fat Lisa folds it up and packs it away in her wardrobe so that she may not wear it out. But my poor friend, you see no further than a child of five years old. She could pay you your money with one hand and take it away with the other. I say you ought to insist on your rights. i wish you would let me go and have it out with them no no exclaimed floren quite horrified i will see about it myself soon she doubted the truth of what he said and told him that he was altogether too gentle she determined to keep him up to the mark and when she was his wife she would soon settle with lisa she lay in her bed at night building all sorts of plans she saw herself going into the shop and making a terrible scene just when it was crowded she found such infinite delight in this project that she would have married florin if for no other reason than to claim this money old mother mahoudon who was utterly exasperated at m le begris dismissal called her daughter an idiot and declared that the skeleton the graceful name she gave to floren had bewitched her by some nasty drug when she heard the story of cayenne she was absolutely horrible in her rage at the same time declaring that it was no more than she expected she called him all sorts of names and locked up all her drawers as soon as he entered the room in the most ostentatious way

one day she had a terrible quarrel with her eldest daughter and ended by saying look out do not go too far or i will certainly go to the prefect and denounce this man you will denounce him repeated la Normand, trembling all over with terror and indignation. Do not think of such a thing. If you were not my mother! Claire, who was present, began to laugh nervously. For some time she had been very quiet and gloomy, moving about as if in a dream, with reddened eyes and a pale face. If she were not your mother, interrupted Claire, you would beat her, I suppose you mean?

Very well, beat me, then, as I am your only sister, for I intend to save my mother the trouble by going myself to the prefect. And as La Normand fairly choked, she added in a strange tone. And when I have done it, I will throw myself into the seine on my way home. Tears streamed from her eyes, and she rushed from the room. They heard her close her own door violently. Mother Mahoudan said no more about denouncing Florent. The rivalry between La Belle Normand and La Belle Lisea assumed a more formidable character.

In the afternoon, when the awning of gray striped with pink was dropped, the fishwoman said aloud with a sneer that she was hiding herself. The shade in the window also exasperated her. It represented a glade in a forest where gentlemen in black coats and ladies in full ball costume were eating a red paté as big as themselves. La Belle Lisa was not afraid, however, and as soon as the sun was gone, the shade was drawn up, and she was seen at her counter, knitting and calmly contemplating the square. crowded with vagabonds lying under the trees and porter smoking their pipes sat on the benches at the ends of the sidewalk two advertising columns were filled with gay-coloured theatrical advertisements she glanced from time to time at la belle normand while pretending to follow the carriages

sometimes she leaned a little forward to look at the omnibus running from the bastille to la place vagram but it was merely to see the fishwoman more distinctly la belle normand was now avenging her for the dropped shade by putting over her head and on her wares large sheets of brown paper on the pretext of protecting herself from the setting sun but la belle lisa triumphed in as much as la norman's great ambition was to do things in good style and nothing humiliated her more than to hear the good manners of her rival praised mother mahoudon had detected this weakness in her daughter and attacked her there i saw madame keny at her door to-night she would say it is amazing how that woman is preserved. She is always so well dressed with the air of a lady. It is the counter, after all. Nothing shows off a woman like that. This was a direct allusion to Monsieur Le Begr's proposition. La Belle Normande did not answer for a moment. She was thinking of herself on the other corner of La Rupirouette, a pendant to La Belle Lisa at the wine-merchant's counter. Her affection for Florent received a severe shock. Florein was very deep. difficult to defend just now, for the whole Kerti had turned upon him.

Each individual behaved as if he had a personal interest in exterminating him. One declared that Florein had been seen trying to set a fire in the cellars under the markets, and this foolish tale was only one among many. The fish market was the last to yield to this infection. There, Florent was liked by the fishwomen. They stood up for him for some time, but, constantly influenced by the butter and cheesewoman, they yielded at last. Then recommenced the old struggle

of the fat against the lean. Memoiselle Sages's black hat was to be seen at all hours and in all places. Her small, pale face seemed to multiply. She had sworn to avenge herself on the society which assembled nightly in the private room at the cabaret. She accused these gentlemen

of laughing at her for buying broken victuals. The truth was that Gavall one evening had incidently mentioned that the dried-up old maid, who was always spying about, it the trash that the Bonapartists threw away. These slices of meat gathered up from the Emperor's kitchen were to him the personification of all the disorder and corruption of the government,

and from this time it was a great joke at the cabaret to talk of taking Mamoiselle Sages up by the tongs. She was regarded as some vile beast who ate the stuff that a properly educated dog would have rejected. Climence and Gavard repeated this very poor joke in the market, so that the little old maid was seriously injured by it. When she hung around a stall, with the expectation of some little gift, she would be told,

with a coarse laugh, to go to the Tulleries woman, and buy a plate of broken victuals. She fairly wept with mortification and said to La Sariette, and to Madame Le Cour that she would certainly have her revenge on Gavar. They made no reply, hoping that she would soon calm down. Gavar, however, was really compromising himself. ever since the conspiracy was well started he had carried his revolver in his pocket a revolver which he had purchased at the best place in paris with many precautions and a great air of mystery the next day he showed it to half the women in the poultry market binding them to secrecy this pistol gave him great importance in their eyes and placed him definitely in the category of dangerous men he would sometimes pull it out and show the shining trigger to several women at his stall begging them all to stand before him that he might not be seen by other people.

Then he would take aim at a goose or a turkey, suspended from above, and was delighted at the terror of the women whom he would soothe by telling that it was not loaded. Then he would pull out a box of cartridges and display those. After they had been sufficiently admired, he would put away his armory and with folded arms or eight for an hour. A man with that thing, he would say loftily, is twice a man. Sundays I go with a friend to the Plen Saint-Den-Siné. Of course, you understand that I would not tell everybody

that I took this with me. We take aim at a tree and bless your little hearts. I hid it each time I fire. One of these days you will hear strange stories about an atoll. It was his revolver which he called anatole. At the end of a week, everyone in the market knew the pistol and the cartridges. He was too rich and too stout to being included in the distrust and hatred they felt for Florein,

but the esteem with which he was formerly regarded was greatly lessened, and timid persons became afraid of him. "'It is very impruded to carry arms about one,' said Mademoiselle Sagitts sententiously. "'Some accident will certainly happen.' Ever since Floreen had given up taking his meals at his brothers, he almost lived at the cabaret, and the private room was regarded much as if it were his own. An old desk was given up to him, in which he kept

his books and papers. Monsieur Le Bigre even kindly added a table on which he said Florent could sleep if it were necessary. He showed, in fact, so much kind cordiality that Florent was quite touched. Lager was very kind also,

and it was to him that Florent confided every detail of the plot as it gradually ripened, and of which Florent continued to be the head. He was at this time perfectly happy. He no longer walked on common earth. He moved, as if on air. He had the credulity of a child and the confidence of a hero.

His enthusiasm became intense, and he spoke of the coming struggle as of a great fate to which all brave men would be bidden. While he talked, Gavard played with his pistol, and Chavez grew more and more bitter as he was by no means pleased with the prominent position assumed by his rival. He was gradually becoming disgusted with politics, and one evening coming into the cabaret rather earlier than usual, he found only Monsieur Logue and Le Bicker there. He opened his heart to them. He is a fellow, he said, who literally has no notion whatever of politics.

He would have done very well as a professor of writing in a young ladies' boarding school. It would be a misfortune to us rather than a blessing, if he should succeed, for everything would be turned upside down. These humanitarian and halfway poets do not amount to much, except in the way of talk. He will not succeed, but he will not succeed, but he will get himself locked up as you will see. His two listeners did not reply. They wished him to continue.

He would have been arrested long ago, resumed Charvet, if he were half as dangerous as he would have us believe. The police knew he was here the very first day he set foot in Paris. If they did not interfere with him, it was simply because he was too insignificant to give them any anxiety. Lugre started. Now, resumed Charvet, "'It is different with me.

"'For fifteen years I have had half a dozen spies at my heels "'who will have me arrested whenever the prefect has need of me.' "'Yes, certainly,' answered Le Bigre mechanically. "'He rarely spoke, and was now paler than usual, "'as he glanced stealthily at Lugre. "'If you take my advice,' added Chavet, "'you will put an end to this sort of thing going on here, "'or your establishment will be so compromised

"'that it will be closed by the government.' "'Lugre smiled.' This was not the first time that Chavez had talked in this way. He wished to frighten them and induce them to break with Florent through their fears. But he found them always undisturbed by anything he could say. He was no less regular in his appearance at the cabaret after this explosion. Clements was always with him. She had lost her clerkship at the market.

This Monsieur Manori and I have not the same political opinions, said the brunette as she carelessly twisted a cigarette. That is all there is to be said about it. Manorri is ready to lick the Emperor's boots. The truth was that she had amused herself one morning in placing against the long list of sales a series of caricatures, and the names of ladies and gentlemen best known at court.

Manorri had nearly died of horror. Gavall laughed whenever he thought of it. You ought to have been a man, he said, slapping her shoulder. Climus had adopted a new way of making her grog. She first filled the glass with boiling water, which she sweetened, and then poured the rum drop by drop on the slice of lemon floating on the top. She then lighted this rum and watched it burn, the flames of the alcohol imparting a green tinge to her face. But after she lost her position at market, she could not indulge in this extravagance. She lived on the proceeds of some lessons that she gave in La Rue Merom-Messnil.

The evenings in the little room were less noisy than they had been. Charvet rarely spoke, but glared in silence at his rival. The remembrance that he had reigned there before the other's arrival gnawed his heart. He continued to haunt the place because he was homesick elsewhere. He recalled the days when he had compelled these men to think on all precisely as he bade them. The thing that enraged him was that he had been dispossessed so gradually that he had not seen it himself. He did not explain this by admitting Florent's superiority. He would simply say,

with uplifted brows. The fellow talks like a curé, while the others drank in his words. Charvet pretended not to be able to find a nail on which to hang his hat, so crowded was the small room with Florence's clothing. He even made a formal complaint to the proprietor, and asked if the room was the exclusive property of any single member of the society. This invasion of his rights was the coup de grace. Men were brutes, and he despised all humanity, as he did not. noticed the way in which Lugre and Le Bigre hung on Floreau's words. He was exasperated by Gavar's revolver and thought Robin, who never spoke, the most sensible

man of the lot, while Lackay and Alexandre only confirmed him in the idea that the people were stupid and that they needed a revolutionary dictatorship for at least ten years before they could govern themselves. Lugre declared about this time that the organization of the sections was nearly completed, and Florent began to distribute the role. After an animated discussion one night where he felt himself to be in the background, Chavez rose and took his hat, saying, Good night. Amuse yourselves, by all means, but I don't propose to work to gratify the

ambition of any man. Climence wrapped her shawl about her and added, coldly, The plan is simply impracticable. End of Chapter 5, Part 2 Chapter 5 Part 3 of the Markets of Paris by Emuzeola. this levervox recording is in the public domain duty before all part three and as robin looked after them chervais stopped and asked if he would not go with him but robin having his glass half full of beer contented himself with shaking hands with the pair who never came again la quay said some days after this that he had seen them from the street in a brewery in la rue serpente gesticulating and talking earnestly florenc could never indulge indoctrinated, Claude, though he took him more than once to Le Bigreuse, where the artist spent his

whole evening in drawing caricatures. He said to Florence as they walked home together. The truth is, my dear fellow, I am not in the least interested in politics. But I want to go there again with you to make two or three sketches, to add to those I drew while you were discussing. By the way, what were you discussing? The question of the two chambers, was it not? I could paint a picture from these sketches, my boy, which would be the success of the salon." Florent was indignant at this indifference, and reproached the painter with his lack of patriotism.

Claude shook his head. You are right, very likely. I do not say that you are not. I cannot even answer you, you see. I only know that France does not need me and that. Would you allow me to be frank? Well, then, the reason I like you is, because you seem to me to be dabbling in politics

as I dabbled in art. It is only dabbling, my dear fact. fellow. Florein protested, You are an artist in your own way. You only dream politics, and I am willing to wager that you spent half your time up here gazing at the stars, counting them as the votes of the world you can't see. You are more of a poet than a politician, and that is the truth. He then went on to say that he was tired of politics, because he had heard so much of them in the various wine-shops and cafes, particularly of one in the house occupied by La Sariette,

which was the favorite place of the youths. of the hall. There, Monsieur Jules reigned triumphant. He read the journals, and knew all that was going on at the theatres. He adored politics. His ideal was Marnie, whom he called thus abruptly. He read the reports of the call legislative, and laughed vociferously at every word uttered by Marnie, and he went on to say that the lower classes detested the emperor, merely because the emperor wished nice people to be happy. I have been to this cafe often, said Clouard. and they are funny enough when they, with pipes in their mouths, talk of the balls at court,

exactly as if they had been invited. You live in a nice set of people, certainly, said Florent, smiling. The painter raised his eyebrows. You need not be troubled. They do me no harm. I like to see these women of the people in this way. I don't want a wife, though. One would be sorely in my way. Good night, and sleep well.

When you are minister, I will give you my ideas for the embellishment of Paris. Laurent was obliged to relinquish all hope of a convert here. This he regretted, for in spite of his fanatical blindness and devotion to his theories, he had begun to realize the hostility around him, which seemed

to increase hourly. Even at the Mahoudans, his welcome was less cordial. The old woman laughed at him covertly, much did not obey him, and La Normand was out of patience with him, for she had as yet found no way of arousing him from his coldness.

She had said to him more than once that he behaved as if he were disgusted with her, and she would push back her chair and go to the other end of the table. August's friendship had likewise vanished. He no longer came to his room when he went upstairs at night. He was really terrified by the reports he heard of this strange man, with whom he had been shut up for hours at a time. Augustine implored him never to be guilty of a like imprudence. Lisa vexed him, moreover, by telling them that they could not be married as long as

Florent remained there, as she had no other room to offer them. Auguste at once determined that the convict must be gotten rid of, and at each noise he heard in the night he hugged himself with joy, thinking that the police had come at last to arrest Florent. Below stairs, at the Kenugrades, this subject was never touched upon. Kenu was a little saddened by the coolness between his wife and his brother, but he consoled himself by paying more attention to the salting of his lard and to the seasoning of his sausages. He sent himself occasionally on his threshold without the smallest idea of the gossip his appearance aroused.

He was much pitied, some of the neighbors declaring that he had grown thin, though in truth he had never been so stout in his life, while others said that he ought to be ashamed to look so well when his brother was such a disgrace to him. Kuni, they said, like most deceived husbands, was the last to know the truth, and was as cheerful as usual when he chatted with some neighbor on the sidewalk. The neighbor, however, presented as melancholy, and sympathetic accountants as if all the pigs in France had been suddenly afflicted with the jaundice.

What on earth is the matter? he said one day to Lisa. These people all look at me as if they were about to bury me. Do I look ill? She reassured him, telling him that he looked as fresh as a rose, for he was terribly afraid of illness, sighing and groaning if he suffered from the smallest indisposition. But the truth was, the charkoutry had lost its gaiety to a very great extent. clode came in one day and said to his aunt that it looked far less cheerful than it did the customers all asked for the half-pound of lard or ten cents worth of pork with lowered voices as if in a sick-room lisa was as dignified as ever her long white aprons were more glossy and stiffer than of yore her handsome well-kept hands were surmounted by deeper linen cuffs and her face with its sad subdued expression seemed to say that she was enduring the most unmerited suffering merchelais had left the hospital as well physically as ever but he had become nearly an idiot his fall had affected his brain and left him an absolute brute he was like a child of five years of age who had attained a gigantic growth

he laughed found it difficult to pronounce certain words and obeyed cadin implicitly except on the one point of not going to the chakutri just as soon as cadin started off with her wicker tray to sell her violets he went to the sidewalk in front of the chakutri. Come in, Lisa would say. She often gave him pickled cucumbers which he adored. The sight of La Belle Lisa pleased him extremely. At first she was afraid

that he remembered. She asked him if his head ever hurt him. He said, No, indeed, rocking to and fro in a childish way. Did you fall? She asked. Yes, I fell, fell, fell.

He sang in a tone of great delight. This touched Lisa. She urged Gavar to keep him, and after this interview she was not afraid to caress him by taking him by the chin and calling him a good boy. The Colossus shut his eyes with all the enjoyment of an animal, and La Belle Lisa felt that she owed him this happiness as a small compensation for the blow with which she had felt him

like a knox in the cellar under the market. In the meantime, the shop grew duller and more somber. Florent dined there sometimes on some. Sundays when Kearney would make frantic efforts at gaiety. One night, after one of these uncomfortable entertainments, he said to Lisa, "'What can the matter be? I am not ill, and yet I have a weight on my heart. I am unhappy, but I cannot tell why. Our business is prosperous, and everything is going smoothly.

You too, my bell,' he continued, "'are not right, either in health or spirits. And I think I shall send for a physician.' His wife looked at me. at him gravely. There is no need of medicine, she said, for there seems to be trouble everywhere just now. Then, yielding to a sudden impulse, she said in a tender voice, Take care of yourself, dear, for you must not be ill.

That would be my crowning affliction. She kept him as much in the kitchen as possible, knowing that the noise of the chopping and the frying pleased him, and she couldn't that way keep him away from Memoiselle who now passed much of her time in the shop. The old woman was doing her best to push Lisa to extremities. There are wicked people, she said. Wicked people indeed. People who had best mind their own business.

If you knew what they said, Madame Keny. But no, I would never dare tell you. Lisa said that it was of no consequence, that she did not care in the least, and the other whispered over the counter. They actually say that Monsieur Florein is not your cousin. And by degrees, she let Lisa see that she knew all. This was one way upholding Madame Canu at her mercy. And when Lisa confessed the truth, feeling it to be the wisest policy to hold under her hand

a person who was thoroughly au corin with all the gossip of the cartier, the old maid swore she would be as dumb as a fish, and that she would give the denial to all she heard. Then, in fact, she enjoyed. the drama. She appeared each day with new reports. You should take precautions, she said. I heard two women at the tripe store talking. I could not tell, of course, that they lied. They would have thought me crazy. A few days later she came in, looking as if she were frightened out of her senses, and waited until two or three persons who were in the shop had left it,

and then in a whisper, she said, I want to tell you that all the men who meet at the cabaret have guns, and they intend to do what was done in 48. Is it not sad to see Monsieur Gavard, rich as he is, mixed up with all these scamps? I wanted to tell you on account of your brother-in-law. But there is no truth in it, I know. No truth in it? Go out any evening and pass La Rue Pirouette and hear the noise they make. You remember how they did their best to lead your husband away?

Is not that true? and is it not true that I have seen them with my own eyes making cartridges? Yes, certainly, and I thank you, only so many things are invented nowadays. But this is not an invention, unfortunately. And everybody says that if the police could get hold of it, there will be many persons compromised. Now, Monsieur Guevaar. But Lisa shook her head, as if to say that Monsieur Guevaar was an old idiot, and she did not care what became of him.

i speak of monsieur gavar as i would speak of others of your brother-in-law for example answered the old woman slyly it seems that he is the chief of the whole movement i am very sorry for you for if the police should come here they might also take monsieur kenu two brothers you know are like two fingers on the same hand le belle lisa turned very pale for mademoiselle sages had touched the open wound of her anxiety had touched the open wound of her anxiety and from this time brought a varied collection of anecdotes every evening of innocent persons who were thrown into prison for having sheltered rascals and in the evening regularly called at the cabaret with the hope of gaining some information from rose and all the time keeping her eyes and ears open she had noticed the tenderness shown by m le bigre toward floren and his anxiety to keep him there although the small purchases he made could have been no advantage to the house one would think she said said to herself shrewdly, that he expected to sell him, but to whom, I wonder. Nor was she ignorant of the position of the two men toward La Belle Normand, and this naturally added to her surprise. One evening when she was standing at the counter of the cabaret, she heard Lugre throw himself down in a chair in the inner room and complain of his fatigue,

saying that he had taken an enormous walk in the Fubour. She looked down at his feet and saw not one grain of dust. She smiled. faintly, paid for her liquor, and departed. She took up a position, then, at her own window to complete her observations. This window was very high and overlooked so many of the neighboring houses that it was to her the source of infinite joy. She regarded it as her observatory. Every article in the room's opposite she could have enumerated.

She knew at what hour the people rose, and what they had for breakfast, and even the persons who came to see them. She could see the hall and not a woman of the cartier could pass down the rue Rambutot without her knowledge. She could say, moreover, where they were going

and what they carried in their baskets. She knew how they passed each hour of the day, the number of their children, the amount of money they made weekly, and the quality of their dresses hanging in their wardrobes. That was Madame Loret,

who was killing herself to educate her son, and this one was Madame Houtin, a poor little woman whose husband neglected her. and there went mademoiselle sicil the butcher's daughter whose temper was so bad that she would never be married and the old maid could have gone on for an indefinite length of time amusing herself in this way but after eight o'clock she had eyes only for the windows of the cabaret on which she could see the shadows of the conspirators she divined the secession of charvet and clements from the fact of not seeing their profiles in this way she was able to follow each step of the conspiracy so acute to she become in meeting the meaning of each gesture.

One night she saw Gavard's pistols, the arms of which she had spoken to Madame Cunuch. Another night, she was puzzled at certain movements, and decided they were manufacturing the wadding for their guns. The next morning she went to the cabaret at an early hour, and out of the corner of her eye saw a pile of linen with red stains lying on the table in the private room. This was truly frightful. She hurried to call on Lisa. oh dear madame cunieu she said i would not frighten you but i am really terrified and you must swear not to repeat what i say to you for those men would certainly kill me if they knew she then went on to speak of the red linen i don't know what it meant but i could swear it was blood something has happened lisa did not reply she played with a fork she held in her hand mademoiselle saget added softly if i were you i would certainly find out why don't you go and look in your brother-in-law's room lisa started the fork fell from her hand she looked the old woman full in the face

"'Mademoiselle Saget continued, "'You have a right to do it. "'Your brother-in-law will certainly get you into trouble. "'Now, yesterday, at Madame Taburo's, "'they were talking about you. "'She is a great friend of yours, you know, "'and she said that you were altogether too kind to this Monsieur Florent "'and that she would have got rid of him long ago.

"'Madame Taborot said that. "'Yes, certainly, and you know she is a woman "'who means what she says.' Lisa looked with unseeing eyes from the window. A frown brought her eyebrows closer together. She was thinking. In the meantime, the little old maid had her nose among the dishes on the counter. She seemed to be talking to herself.

Bless me, here is a cut sausage. What a pity for it to dry up. And this pudding has burst. It must have been pricked by a fork. It ought to be taken away, certainly. Lisa McEigh. mechanically took up the pudding and the sausage, put them in paper, saying, They are yours if you will have them.

In a moment they disappeared into the basket, which never left the woman's arm, who was now so accustomed to receiving presents that she forgot to say, thank you, and hurried away to find her dessert. When she was alone, Lisa sat down to think. For a week she had been in a state of constant anxiety. One evening, Florein had told Canu that he wanted five hundred francs. He said it easily and naturally. Kenu told him to go to Lisa for the money.

This was especially disagreeable to Florent, whose application was received by his sister-in-law with compressed lips. Three days later, he asked for a thousand more. You see, I was right, said Lisa sarcastically as she was undressing. Your brother is not as disinterested as you thought. I must make an entry of this last thousand francs. She seated herself at the secretary, and opened an account book.

I did well to leave a large space, she murmured. He intends to take it all by bits, I see. Canu did not speak. He was very much out of temper. Each time his wife opened the secretary, the creak of that falling leaf was like a despairing cry in his ears. He intended to remonstrate with his brother

and prevent him from throwing all his money away on the Mahoudans, but each time he opened his lips, his courage failed him. Florein in two days had taken fifteen hundred francs. Lugre had said that if they had money, things would get on much faster, and the next day was overjoyed to find that these words carelessly thrown in the air came down transformed into shining gold pieces, which he quickly pocketed. After this, his demands were incessant.

One section wished to have a place where they could meet in safety. Another was compelled to support destitute patriots, and there were always purchases of arms to be made. Florein was ready to give all he had and was only restrained by Lisa's disagreeable manner whenever he asked for money, for he felt that the cause was holy. Lager was in the best of spirits

and wore rose-colored cravats and patent leather boots, the sight of which seemed to have a bad effect on La Cais's spirits. Three thousand francs in one week, said Lisa to Kenu. What have you to say to that? If he goes on this way, he won't have a sue at the end of four months. And poor old Gradel, who worked forty years for this money.

It is all your own fault, exclaimed Gunnui. Why did you tell him anything about the fortune? She looked at him gravely. It is his own, she answered. He has a perfect right to all he asks for. I am ready to give him the money. I am only disturbed by the bad use he makes of it, and I feel that something must be done.

Do what you please, muttered Kunu tortured by avarice. I won't interfere with you. he loved his brother still but the thought of fifty thousand francs melting away in four months disturbed him greatly lisa assisted by m m mosephazze saget had a very clear idea of its destination and even went so far as to tell the little old maid how much floren had drawn wishing the truth to be circulated in the cartier This occurred the day before the story of the blood-stained linen was brought to her and which decided her. She looked around the shop, which seemed to her very dreary. Even Monton the cat had a discontented air. She hastily summoned Augustine to take her place and went up to Florence's room. She started when she opened the door. The purity of the white bed was stained by a pile of red sashes which streamed down upon the cover lid. on the mantelpiece were cockades and epaulettes, scarlet and gold.

Flags of all colors were hung against the wall. Thanks to her investigations of her brother-in-law's private papers, she knew that these were the colors of the different sections. The photographs of August and Augustine looked pale with fright amid all these revolutionary insignia. Lisa looked at everything, but touched nothing, holding herself aloof as if they were red-hot and would burn her. It was thus then that the money so hardly and so honestly earned was spent.

She stood looking out. The glowing flowers on the balcony were to her only other cockades, and the bird's song sounded in her ears like the echo of musketry. Then, as the idea came to her, that the insurrection would burst out tomorrow, she heard the roll of drums and the clear notes of the bugle. She hurried downstairs without a glance at the papers on the table, but she went no further than her own room which she entered. At this solemn crisis, Lisa deliberately dressed her hair with all her usual care.

Her hands did not tremble, and her eyes were fixed. As she buttoned the waist of her black silk dress, using all the strength in her wrist to bring it together, she remembered what the Abbe Rustin had said. She asked herself the question, and decided that she was only doing her duty. And as she pinned her shawl, she felt that she was a thoroughly honest woman.

She put a thick veil over her hat and drew on dark gloves. Before going out, she locked her secretary, as if to impart to it a comfortable sense of security that it would not soon be again disturbed. Canu was standing at the shop door in his white apron. He was quite surprised to see her go out in this grand toilette at ten o'clock in the morning. Where on earth are you going? he asked.

She invented some story about a shopping day with Madame Taburo. She added that as she should pass the gate, she would take seats for the evening. Kunu ran after her and told her to be sure and take them in the center of the house. She smilingly assented and went on to the cabstand where she took a fiacre, telling the coachman to drive to the gate. She feared being followed. When she had her tickets, she went to the Palais de Justice where she dismissed the carriage and went slowly through the halls and corridors. As she was lost amid the hurry and confusion, she gave ten sue to a man who guided her to the private room of the chief of police. She was received with politeness by a stout bald person

dressed in black. She lifted her veil and told her story frankly, without any concealments. The gentleman listened without interrupting her, and when she had finished he said simply, You are this man's sister-in-law, are you? Yes, answered Lisa. We are honest people, and I do not wish my husband to be compromised. He shrugged his shoulders and waved his hand as if this remark were very foolish. Then, with an air of impatience, he said, For more than a year I have known all you tell me.

The man has been denounced again and again. You understand that if I have not acted it is because I prefer waiting. We have our reasons. I will show you. He laid before her a huge pile of papers. She turned them over. They were, in fact, the detached pieces of the history she had just told. The authorities of Havre, Rouen, and Vernon announced Florence's arrival.

Then his installation at the Conugrades was noted, his entrance at the hall, his life, his evening spent at the cabaret. Not an incident was omitted. Lisa noticed that the reports were double as if they came from two different sources. Then came a heap of anonymous letters of all forms and styles. This was the climax. She recognized the fine scrawl of Memoiselle Sages Sajé, denouncing the set of men who frequented the club. She saw two, a large sheet of course paper with Madame Le Cueur's hieroglyphics, and one shining page,

a joint work of La Sariette and Monsieur Jules. These last two letters cautioned the government against Gavar. She recognized also Mother Mahoudan's coarse language, who, in four pages which were almost illegible, recounted all the taste. which were in circulation in regard to Florent. But she was utterly overwhelmed when she beheld one of the printed bills of the house bearing the words,

Charcutry, on the back of which August denounced the man whom he regarded as the obstacle to his marriage. She was asked if she recognized any of these handwritings. She stammered forth the word no, and rose to leave. She drew down her veil to conceal her agitation and vague bewilderment.

Her hands trembled, she drew up her shawl. The bald man smiled faintly. You see, Madame, that you are a little late, but I assure you that we shall remember what you have done? Tell your husband not to lift a finger. Certain circumstances may occur. He did not conclude his sentence, but bowed slightly in half-rose from his chair. She felt herself dismissed and went away. In the ante-room she saw Lager and Monsieur Le Bigre, who hastily turned away, but she was more disturbed than they. She hurried through the corridors, feeling that there was no escape from the police, who knew and saw everything.

She went to the Quay de laurge, where she walked for some little time, soothed and refreshed by the cool air from the seine. She felt most keenly the uselessness of the step she had taken. Her husband was in no danger after all. This was, of course, a relief, and yet gave her a certain sense of remorse. She was vexed with these women who had placed her in such a ridiculous position. She stood still and looked at the seine. Some coal barges were coming toward her from the end of which men were fishing. It was not she, then, who had delivered Florent

to the hands of the Philistines. The relief she felt at this thought astonished her, would she have committed an infamous act in doing so? She hesitated, and wondered if she had been deceived by her conscience. The anonymous letters seemed to her more atrocious than anything she had ever dreamed of. She had gone openly to fulfill what she believed to be her duty. She asked herself if the Gradle money counted for anything in her decision. No, she was not avaricious. Money had nothing to do with it, and she gradually recovered her ease of mind.

Did you get the seats? asked Canu when she went into the house. He wished to see the tickets, and explained to her precisely where they were, all of which she had ascertained before purchasing them. This theatre project was devised by her merely to get her husband out of the house while the police made a descent on Florein, which she supposed it would do as soon as her story was heard. She had intended asking him to go to walk in the Bois. They would dine at a restaurant and go from thence to the theatre. On their return they would find Florent gone. Now the programme was changed, and it was not necessary to go out until it was time for the theatre. I told you did you good to go out, said Kenu.

You look as different as possible. You should take a walk every day. No, she answered coldly. The streets of Paris are not good for the health. That evening at the Gaetet they played the Grasse de de de deux. Kenu in a black coat and pearl-colored gloves studied the program with great earnestness. Lisa was superb and folded her arms on the red velvet railing. Her white gloves were too tight and her arms bulged above them.

them. They were both greatly moved by Marie's misfortunes. The commander was a vile man, and Piero made them laugh as soon as he appeared. The Charchutier wept bitterly in the pathetic scenes. The child's departure, the prayer and return of the poor mad girl, brought tears to her eyes, which she gently wiped away with her handkerchief. This soiree was a veritable triumph to her when, on raising her eyes, she beheld La Normand and her mother in the second gallery. she bridled sent canew for a box of caramels played with her fan one of mother-of-pearl with considerable gilding this was too much for the fishwoman she dropped her head and seemed to be listening to her mother's whispers when they met in the vestibule the two women smiled coldly at each other floren had dined early that day with m le bigre he was waiting for lougre who was to present to him an old sergeant a man whom he was sure to find very useful and who would assist them in devising the attack against the palais bourbon and the hotel de ville as night came on a fine rain began to fall and veiled the hall while the low heavy black cloud seemed to rest almost upon the roofs of the houses laurent was saddened by the aspect of things and by the rush of yellow water in the gutters

l'gre did not bring the sergeant gavar had gone to dine with friends at batignolle l'ran was reduced to passing the evening tte-a-te-te with robin he was early wearied out and went off to bed but when he reached his room felt nervous and restless. The evening before, he had been at the funeral of Monsieur Valoc who had died after long and acute sufferings. He would not forget that narrow coffin, nor poor Madame Valoc's tears. She had told him that none of the expenses of the funeral were paid, in that she had not a sue in the house. Laurent paid everything, and the poor woman looked so utterly heartbroken

that, as he left the house, he put into her hand twenty francs. This death naturally established him in his position as inspector of the markets. He was impatient for the insurrection to burst forth that he might throw aside the braided cap forever. With all these contradictory thoughts and plans surging within him, he opened his window and stepped out on the balcony. The wind had gone down, the rain had ceased,

but there were no stars in the sky. Leaning over the railing, Florent said to himself that sooner or later he should be punished for having accepted a position under the government. It was a blemish on his life, and he felt that he had perjured himself by serving the empire, after the oath he had sworn to himself so many times while in exile. The desire of pleasing Lisa,

the charitable use of his emoluments, were not strong enough arguments to excuse his weakness, his sufferings whatever they might be he deserved. He lived over again the last wretched year, the persecutions of the market-women, the nausea he had constantly felt from the atrocious smells, and the hostility which was rapidly growing about him, All these things he accepted as a chastisement.

He felt a dull conviction that some catastrophe was close at hand and bowed his head to accept it in expiation of his fault. The rain of the afternoon had filled the hall with dampness which brought out all the intolerable smells. It seemed to him that from these markets enclosed under one roof rose a thick vapor. The butchers and tripe merchant stalls sent forth an odor of blood. The vegetable and fruit markets.

exhaled the accurate smell of sour cabbages, rotten apples, and decayed vegetables. The butter was rancid, and the fish, tainted. At his feet was the poultry market, smelling like a stable. He heard a gay laugh, and the sound of a door closing noisily. It was Cunu and Lisa coming home from the theatre. And Florence started, and with a shiver, went in and closed the blinds. End of Chapter 5. Chapter 6 of the Markets of Paris by Imelain.

Mizola. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. Ring doves and pigeons One morning at daybreak, Florent forgot his duties at the market and explored each street in the vicinity of the Palais Bourbon. He went as far as the Esplanade is invalid and measured certain distances by taking long strides. Then he went to the K d'Orsay and leaning over the parapet decided that the attack should be simultaneous. The band from Gau Cayou would arrive by the Chon Mars. The sections from the north of Paris should sweep down by the Madeline. Those of the west and south must follow the quay.

He looked toward the opposite shore with some anxiety. The Chans-Elysay and the wide avenues were difficult to deal with. He saw, too, that cannon placed there would sweep the whole quay. Then he changed some details of his plan and made several alterations in the paper he held in his hand. The real attack should be made by the Rue du Borgogne and La Rue de L'Ur de L'Ursivisable. The sun now touched his shoulders and shown on the wide sidewalks and gilded the monuments opposite him. He saw the battle. He saw men clinging to these columns and then, far above, he beheld lean hands flinging out the flag to the breeze.

He went slowly homeward. Suddenly he heard a soft cooing sound and realized that he was in the garden of the Tullery and saw the turtle-doves sunning themselves on the lawn. He leaned against a box that held a huge orange tree and looked around. The shadow of the large chestnut trees was very heavy. The air was sweet with perfume and made him think of Madame Francois. A little girl ran past with her hoop and frightened the turtle doves. They flew away and alighted on the arm of a marble athlete in the center of the green sward

where they pecked and plume themselves. As he entered the hall, he heard the voice of Claude Lancy calling to him. Come with me! said the painter. I am looking for that little brute Margelland. Florent followed him, merely to get away from himself and to put off as long as possible, his return to his distasteful duties at the market.

Claude said that Margele was perfectly happy. He was a mere beast walking on two legs instead of four. That was about all the difference. He may be stuffing the pigeons, said Claude. We could go and see. They went into the cellar in the center of which two fountains were playing. The houses here were devoted exclusively to pigeons. Behind the gratings there arose a plaintive sound, a perpetual rippling note.

Clod laughed and said to his companion, I should think all the lovers in Paris were in this place. But as every one of these rooms, or houses seemed to be locked, he came to the conclusion that Margelland could not be in the cellar. Suddenly they heard the sound of a gentle, continual kissing, and they discovered one door that was a jar. They pushed it open and beheld Cadine with Margeleine kneeling in front of her so that his face was on a level with her lips. She was kissing him tenderly on his hair, his brow, his eyes, slowly and methodically.

He complacently remained just as she placed him and allowed her to do as she pleased. He had no longer a will of his own. "'Aren't you ashamed?' said Clod, in this dirty place, too. "'But,' answered Cadine with impudent effronialt. He is afraid anywhere that is light. Is it not so, dear? You are afraid sometimes, are you not? He passed his hands over his face as if seeking the kisses she had left there.

He answered with a vague smile. Yes, that he was afraid. I came to help him, too, the girl added. I am stuffing the pigeons. Florent looked at the poor creatures. All around the place on shelves were uncovered boxes in which pigeons were placed close against each other. every few moments a light shiver ran through the moving mass cadine had a saucepan at her side full of water and grain she filled her mouth took up the pigeons one by one opened their beaks and blew this food down their throats

and they struggling and choking fell back into their boxes dizzy with the food thus swallowed by force poor things said clod they are not poor things at all they are very comfortable now in two hours they will be made to swallow salted water. This makes them white and tender, and two hours after that they are bled. If you would like to see that done, you can look at Mergelland, for he has fifty to do now. Claude and Florent followed Mergelland. He sat down on the ground by the fountain, put the box of pigeons by his side, and placed on his niece a tin case with wires across set in a wooden frame. He seized the pigeons by the wings, and with a quick blow on the head with the handle of the knife, stunned them, and then inserted the two. the point in the throat. The pigeons shivered, and he arranged them in rows, the heads between

these iron wires over at the tin box, into which the blood dropped slowly. He did this with the regular movement of a machine at first, but by degrees seemed to become excited. His eyes glittered and he moved quicker and quicker. He finally burst out laughing. Tick-tuck, tick-tac, he sang, accompanying the noise made by the knife on the heads of the poor creatures with a movement of his tongue. He likes that, said Cadine. Pigeons are funny when they put their heads down so far between their shoulders that we can't find their necks. She laughed again as she watched Margellin's feverish haste. I have tried, but I can never do it as fast as he. One day he bled a hundred and ten minutes. Clod, happening to glance at Florent, saw him so pale that he hastily led him to the

stairs, where he made him sit down. Well, well, he said. Who would have thought that you could faint like a woman. It was the smell, answered Florent a little ashamed. These pigeons, who were made to swallow grain and salt water and then bled to death, had reminded him of the turtle doves of the Tuileries, walking in their changeable satiny plumage

on the turf golden with sunlight. He saw them gurgling and cooing on the arm of the antique statue in the silent garden, while, in the dark shadow of the chestnut trees, the little girl played with her hoop. This huge, senseless brute killing these little creatures had chilled him to the marrow of his bones. "'You will make no kind of a soldier, my boy,' said Claude.

"'The people who sent you to Cayenne were simple creatures to be afraid of you. "'Look out, my dear fellow, never to get into any trouble, "'for if you should fire a pistol and happen to kill anyone, you would faint away.' Florent rose, but did not answer. He had become very serious, and heavy lines contracted his forehead. He went away, leaving Claude to return to the pigeons and Margelland. As he walked through the fish market, he thought again of his plan of attack and of the armed bands which would invade the Palais Bourbon. In the Chans-Elysé, the cannon would reverberate, the windows would be broken, there would be blood and brains spattered on the columns.

A rapid vision passed before his eyes. He passed his hand over them, not daring to look. As he crossed La Rue du Pont Neuf, he thought he'd. saw August's pale face in the fruit market. He seemed to be waiting or watching for someone, and his eyes were wide open with a wild stare. He suddenly turned and fled in the direction of the charkutri. What on earth is the matter? thought Florent.

He behaves as if he were afraid of me. Grave events had taken place that morning at the Kenugradelles. At daybreak, August had rushed to the room of his employers to tell them that the police had come to arrest Florent, and then added in a confused way, that he thought Floreen had got away. La Belle Lisa in her dressing-gern ran upstairs and took the photograph of La Belle Normand from the drawer of her brother-in-law and went down again. On the landing, she met the police agent who begged to speak to her a moment.

He bade her open her shop as usual and to say nothing to anyone. He put his men into possession of Floreau's room. Thus was the trap laid and baited. Lisa's only angst up. in this whole affair was as to how Canoe would receive this blow. She feared that he would ruin all by his tears if he should discover that the police was there. As yet he had not been disturbed, and she prepared a little tale with which to delude him when he awoke. In another half hour she was at her door with her hair as carefully dressed as usual, accurately

dressed and smiles on her rosy face. August was arranging the shop. Canoe came out, yawned a little, and shook himself in the fresh morning air. nothing indicated the drama that was in preparation but the commissary himself was the one to awaken suspicion in the cartier by making a domiciliary visit to the mahoudans he was furnished with the most accurate information in the anonymous letters received at the prefecture it was said that la belle normande was the mistress of floren she therefore had probably sheltered and concealed him now the commissary accompanied by two men shook the door and demanded admittance in the name of the law. The Mahoudans were hardly up. The old woman opened the door in a rage which was suddenly calmed when she understood what the demand meant. She took a seat and calmly fastened her clothing while she said. You can look where you choose, gentlemen. We are honest people and have nothing to fear. As La Narmand did not see fit to open her door, the commissary

ordered it to be forced. She was dressing and her shoulders were bare. This brutal entrance exasperated her. The skirt that she was just throwing over her head dropped from her hands, and she rushed forward red with anger rather than shame. The commissary, faced by this half-naked woman, advanced in front of his men, saying in a cold, stern voice, In the name of the law! In the name of the law! She fell into a chair, weeping and sobbing. Her hair streamed over her shoulders. Her chemise did not reach her knees. The men looked away while the commissary caught up a shawl. and threw it over her, but she did not notice it.

She whipped hysterically as she saw these men open her wardrobe and look under her bed. What have I done? she gasped. What are you looking for here? The commissary uttered Florein's name just as Mother Mahoudon entered the room. A wretch! cried her daughter, rushing toward her. One of the men caught her and wrapped her in the shawl. She struggled and said,

For what do you take me then? This Florent never crossed this threshold. put me in prison if you choose. What do I care for this Floreau? I can marry a better man than he any day. This flood of words calmed her. Her fury now turned against Floreen, who was the cause of this insult.

She addressed the commissary and tried to justify herself. I did not know, sir. He was very quiet and very gentle, and he deceived us all. I did not want to listen to the people who abused him. He came to give my little boy lessons,

for which I tried to pay an occasional present of a fine fish, and this is all. But where are the papers he gave you to take care of? Papers? He never gave me any papers. If he had, I would give them to you. I swear I would, rather than see you rummage among all my things in this way. I tell you it is not worthwhile for you to look. The men, having completed their search in her room,

now opened a door leading to the closet where much slept. In a moment the child, was heard crying aloud. Awaken from a deep sleep, he apparently thought he was about to be murdered. La Normand called to him, and he ran to her and clung about her neck. She consoled him and placed him in her own bed. The men were about to leave, when the child said, in a whisper, Don't let them take my copy-books.

To be sure, your copy-books, cried Le Normand. Wait a moment, gentlemen. I have something for you. You will see plenty of his writing now. and if you wish to hang him, do so, I won't cut the rope. She handed them the copy-books, which utterly infuriated the child,

who began to kick and scratch as mother who was trying to hold him. Finding that he could not get away, he began to bellow. M. M. Moseil Saget stuck in her head. She had come, finding the doors all open, saying that she really pitied these poor ladies who had no one to defend them.

In the meantime, the commissary was reading the copies set by Florent with a heavy frown, with a heavy frown. He gave a little tap to the paper. This is very serious, he said. Very serious indeed. He handled the bundle of copy-books to one of his men and departed. Claire, who had not appeared, now opened her door and looked at the men as they went downstairs. She then entered her sister's room where she had not been for a year. Mademoiselle Sajet was fluttering about La Belle Normand, caressing her and wrapping the shawl more closely about her.

"'You are a mean coward,' said Claire, planting herself before her sister, who started up, the shawl again falling to the floor. "'You were listening, were you? Say that again, if you dare. "'You are a mean coward,' repeated the girl in a tone that was even more insulting. Then La Normand rushed forward and slapped Claire's pale face, who frail as she was, grasped her sister by the throat. They struggled for a moment, tearing out each other's hair. The younger was superhuman force, pushing.

the other against the wardrobe, the glass of which shivered. Much sobbed, and Mother Mahoudan shrieked to Mademoiselle Sajet to separate them. But Clare shook herself free. Mean coward that you are, she repeated, I am now going to warn the man you have sold. Her mother threw herself across the door, and La Normand, with the assistance at the little old maid, hustled Claire into her room whose door they locked. There was a dead silence and then a dull grating sound. she is trying to take off the hinges with her scissors said la normand contemptuously as she went about trying to find her clothes which had been somewhat scattered in the melee she would have killed me without any hesitation said la normand if she could

and now she must be kept in her room or she will make the most fearful row in the cartier m mosephse sager was naturally in great haste to depart she reached the corner of la rue pirouette just as the commissary and his men went into the charcuterie she followed in such a state of excitement that lisa made a sign to her to be quiet with a glance at kenu when they went into the kitchen the old maid told what had taken place at the mahoudans lisa listened with an air of triumph But when a customer asked for two pigs' feet, she wrapped them up thoughtfully as she said. Look here. To show you that I have no enmity against La Normand, you may tell her that I have saved this from the police, and I'm ready to give it back to her, if she comes and asks me for it. She took the photograph from her pocket. M. M. M. Sages looked at it and read aloud. Louise, to her good friend, Florent.

Then, in a significant tone, she said, You make a mistake. You should keep it. this." "'No,' answered Lisa. "'I wish this affair to be ended, once for all. Today is the day for a reconciliation, and after this I hope the Cartier will settle down.

Do you want me to tell La Belle Normand that you would like to see her?' "'Yes, if you would be so kind.' "'Memoiselle Sajais returned to La Rue Pirouette, and frightened the fishwoman out of her senses by telling her that her picture was in Lisa's pocket. But she could not at once decide to make the concession demanded by her rival. She too had her conditions to make. She would go if the Charchutier would come to the door to receive her. The old maid was obliged to make two more

trips between the rivals in order to make the arrangement satisfactory to both parties. Memoiselle Sagerie was quite willing to take this trouble, as she was to be credited with the reconciliation which would, of course, cause such excitement in the Cartier. As she passed Claire's door, she still heard the noise of the scissors. As soon as these points were settled, she went off in a hurry to get Madame Lecair and La Sariette. They established themselves nearly opposite of the Charkutri, where they could see the entire interview.

The three women became very impatient as they waited there. The story had got abroad in the hall, and everyone was on the Kiviv, while eyes were turned toward the shop of the Kunigradel. And when La Normand appeared, they held their breath. Look at her earrings! said La Sariette. Just see how she walks, exclaimed Madame Lecair.

It is for all the world like a peacock. Le Belle Normand, in fact, held herself like a queen who condescends to sign a treaty of peace. She had made a most careful toilette and had turned up a corner of her crisp white apron to show her black cashmere skirt. At her throat was a gorgeous tie of lace. As she felt that the whole hal were looking at her,

she carried her head, still higher. She stopped at the door of the charkutri. Now it is the turn of La Belle Lisa, said Mademoiselle Sajette. Lisa left her counter with smiling grace. She crossed her shop with a leisurely step and extended her hand to La Belle Normand. She was carefully dressed, her collar, apron, and cuffs of immaculate purity. The two women disappeared within the shop, and the spectators could exchange remarks as it was no use to try and hear.

She is buying something, said Marmonde. Mademoiselle Sages. La Belle Normand is certainly buying something, and look, Lisa is giving her the photograph. Then followed more salutations, and La Belle Lisa accompanied her fair rival to the very sidewalk. There they stood and talked for a good five minutes for the edification of the Kertzi, who felt that the quarrel was happily concluded. But Mademoiselle Sager would not allow her two companions to leave her. The crowning act of the drama was near at hand.

"'And now La Belle Normande has no lover,' said Madame Lecoeur. "'She has Monsieur Le Bigre,' remarked La Sariette, laughing. "'Oh, Monsieur Le Bigre, he won't have her now?' "'Memoiselle Saget shrugged her shoulders, murmuring, "'you know nothing about it. "'He won't trouble himself much about this affair. "'La Normand is rich, and in two months there will be man and wife. "'You will see.'

"'Mother Mahoudon has done her best to bring this marriage about for a long time. But, said Madame Lecoeur, after all, there has nothing wrong been found out. Laurent was not in her room? Not then, answered the old maid significantly, but that does not

prove that he has not been there. I believe myself that he has just gone. The worst of the whole thing was, she continued, the horrible things these men said before a little much. Now, I don't mean that the child amounts to much, but That is no reason why the police should be allowed to frighten him out of his senses.

But look, there is poor Monsieur Canou, and he is laughing. Canoe, in fact, was standing on the sidewalk in his white apron talking with Madame Tabolo's little servant. He was in the best of spirits that morning, and Lisa had the greatest difficulty in the world in keeping him in the kitchen. She walked up and down the shop impatiently, fearing that Florent would come in and that her husband would be there. "'She is in a fever,' said Mademoiselle Sajé. "'Her poor husband knows nothing about it at all. "'Just see him laugh now. "'You know that Madame Taborot said she should quarrel with the canoes

"'if they were so weak-minded as to keep Florent with them any longer.' "'And in the meantime they have all the money,' said Madame Lacquer. "'By no means, my dear. He has had his share. "'Is that really so? Do you know it?' "'I know it,' answered the old. maid, but she did not say how. He has even had more than he is entitled to. Ah, a profligate man makes them money fly. And then you know there is another woman. I did not know it, answered La Serriette, but I am not surprised. Yes, the wife of the former inspector, Madame Valloc. The others exclaimed

at this. Madame Baloch was so ugly. But I know it, continued Mademoiselle Sajé. There are proofs, files of letters from that woman, letters asking him for money, and I believe that they two killed the husband. La Seriette and Madame Lacarere were convinced, of course, but they were tired of waiting. They said to each other that their stalls were left alone and were probably robbed by this time, but Mademoiselle Sajé begged them to stay a moment longer, all the time keeping her own eyes riveted on the house, whose front was bathed in the morning sun.

Who would think that it was full of purpose? police, murmured Madame Lecoeur. They are in the attic. Look, I can see one now behind those plants on the terrace. The others extended their necks, but could see nothing. No, I was mistaken.

It was a shadow, explained La Sariette. They must be sitting still in the room. At this moment, they saw Gabal come out of the fish market with a preoccupied air. He was coming toward them. Have you seen Florent? He asked as he reached them.

They did not reply. I want to see him at once, continued Gavar. He is not in the fish market. Has he gone in? The three women were all unnaturally pale, and their lips trembled. Madame Lecaire was the first to speak. We have been here only a few moments, she said. He may have gone in.

Then I will undertake those five flights of stairs, answered Gavard, laughing. La Seriette opened her lips as if to warn him, but her aunt held her arm tight. Let him go, she whispered, and he may perhaps learn not to walk over us another time. La Sariette stood still with a flushed face, but the others were yellow-white. They looked at the house as if they could see Gavar through the stones as he ascended the stairs. La Sariette uttered a nervous little laugh when she thought her uncle had had time to reach Florence's room. They fancied that they saw the curtains move.

Fifteen minutes elapsed, and all was quiet. then a man came out of the alley and went for fiacre in another five minutes gavar came down with two men gavar was very pale he had been searched in his pistol and box of cartridges taken from him he thought himself lost and was surprised that the idea of this denouement had never entered his head the tullery would never forgive him his limbs felt strangely weak but he held himself straight determined that the haze should see that he did died bravely. Madame Lecoeur and La Sariette rushed to his side and begged for an explanation. He took his niece in his arms, and as he kissed her, murmured in her ear as he gave her a key, Burn all my papers. He entered the fiacro with the air of a man ascending the scaffold.

When the carriage disappeared around the corner, Madame La Cure saw her niece trying to hide the key. You need not take so much trouble, she said between her teeth. I saw him put it in your hand. As true as there is a god in heaven, I will go before the prefect and declare the truth unless you share with me. But my dear aunt, answered La Seriette with an embarrassed smile, let us go at once before those leaves get there. M'oiselle Sages, who had heard all this,

followed their fleet steps as quickly as she could. As they neared Gavard's home, she offered to go on and explain to Madame Leons the reason of their coming. We will see to it ourselves. said Madame Lacquer stiffly. The housekeeper was by no means willing to show these ladies upstairs. She looked austerely at La Sariette's untidy fichu.

But when Mademoiselle Saget said a few words in a low voice and showed her the key, she yielded. Take everything, she said, throwing herself into a chair as if abandoning all hope. La Sariette tried the key in all the wardrobes, while Madame Lacour watched her closely, and stood so nearer to her that finally.

she exclaimed, "'Please, stand a little farther off, aunt. I can't use my arms.' At last a wardrobe opposite the window was opened. The four women uttered a simultaneous exclamation. On the center shelf were ten thousand francs in methodical little piles. Gavall, whose property was prudently deposited

in the hands of a notary, kept this sum in reserve ready for an emergency. He looked on them as aid to the insurrection and dreamed at night that a battle was going on within his wardrobe. He heard the beat of drums, the rattling of musketry and triumphant shouts. It was his money which did all this. La Sariette uttered a little shriek of joy and extended her hands.

"'Fause off, my dear!' exclaimed Madame Lacour in a hoarse voice. The woman was slowly dying of an affection of the liver, but her skin turned yellower than ever and seemed to reflect the gold which lay before her. peering over her shoulder was Mademoiselle Sages, standing on the points of her toes in an ecstasy of delight. My uncle told me to take everything, said La Sariette. And am I, who have watched over him in sickness and in health, to have nothing? asked the housekeeper.

Madame Lacourne pushed them all away, and planting herself before the wardrobe, she said. I am his nearest relative, and you are robbers. All of you. she added with some violence. There was a long and profound silence. The four women looked at each other. La Sariette, palpitating with life, youth and hope,

offered a strange contrast to the other women. But, continued Madame Lacourre, we do not wish to quarrel about it. You are his niece, his only niece, and we will divide. We will each of us take a pile in turn. She bade the other two step back, and she began. She took one pile which disliked.

disappeared among her skirts. Then La Sariette did the same. Then the two hands laid side by side on the shelf, one with horrible distorted fingers, the other white, delicate and supple as silk. There was one pile left which the aunt claimed. But La Sariette disputed this as it was her aunt who commenced the division, and she divided it between Madame Leons, who had seen them pocket the gold with gasps of horror, and Mademoiselle Saget. "'Bless my soul!' said the girl. the housekeeper, Fifty francs for taking care of that old man all this time.

He said he had no family, the old sheet. Madame Lecaire, before closing the wardrobe, wished to search it thoroughly. It contained all the political books which were not allowed to cross the frontiers. Pamphlets from Brussels, scandalous tales of the Bonaparts, and caricatures of the emperor.

One of Gavard's greatest delights had been to shut himself up and show a friend these compromising papers, He begged us to burn these papers, said La Sariette. Nonsense, there is no fire, and we had best be off. Hardly had they reached the foot of the stairs, then the police appeared. Madame Lyons went back to show them to Gavard's rooms. The others pursued their way, the aunt and niece somewhat incommoded by the weight

of their full pockets, but enjoyed them all the same. Mademoiselle Sajé held her fifty francs tight in her hand, all the time revolving a plan for obtaining something more from out of those full pockets. "'There is Florent,' she exclaimed as they neared the fish market. "'Flore, it was indeed. He was going to his office to change his coat, having completed his daily task. It seemed to him that people looked at him strangely. He wondered if there were any trouble in store for him.

But as he passed the Mahoudan stall, he was surprised to hear the old woman say in a gentle voice. "'Monsieur Florein, there was a gentleman looking for you, I think he has gone to your room to wait for you there. The old fishwoman sitting in her stall enjoyed as she uttered these words a refinement of vengeance which shook her enormous frame with joy. Florent looked questioningly at La Belle Normand, who, now, on the best of terms with her mother, was bustling about and pretended not to hear. You are sure, he asked. Oh, certainly, one couldn't be sure, she answered in a sharp voice. Florent thought that this gentleman had come in relation to the great affair.

He was about leaving the market when, as he turned, he caught sight of Le Belle Normand, who was watching him with a very grave face. He passed the three women. You notice, murmured Mademoiselle Seger that there is no one in the shop. La Belle Lisa is not the woman to compromise herself. It was true. The charcuterie was empty. The house lay basking in the sunlight with a comfortable sort of

air. The flowers were blooming gaily, high up on the balcony, and as Florent crossed the sidewalk, he nodded to L'Ugr and to Monsieur de Bigre, who were standing at the door of the wine-shop. These gentlemen smiled in a friendly sort of way. He was about to enter the narrow alley when he perceived August's pale face flashed through the darkness. He turned back and looked into the shop, but saw only Monton, who glared at him out of his large yellow eyes. His whiskers had a fiercer aspect than usual. When he finally entered the alley, he saw La Belle Lisa watching him from behind a curtain of a glass door.

Profound silence reigned in the fish market. Every eye was fixed on that house. Suddenly, a laugh ran around the hall. Mother Mehoudan's story of the gentleman waiting to see Florent struck them as a capital choke. At last, the skeleton, Mother Mahoudan's favorite name for the inspector, was caught. and they wished him,

Bon voyage, hoping devoutly that his successor was better looking. La Belle Normand looked on at this joy and had great difficulty in restraining her tears.

Meanwhile, Florein had gone up to his room where he allowed himself to be taken without the smallest resistance, which he saw would be utterly useless. He took a chair

and looked at the men as they turned over the papers and opened all the packages of scarves and badges. This denouement was, after all, no surprise to him, and was, in fact, rather a relief, although he would not have confessed even to himself that such was the case. His keenest sufferings were caused by the remembrance of the hatred

which had pushed him into this room. He recalled August's pale face and the whispers of the fish-woman. He remembered Mother Mahoudan's words, the silence of La Normand and the vacant shop, and said to himself that all these people were accomplices, and that the Kertsie had delivered him up, Among this crowd of faces which he saw as he sat with his hands pressed over his eyes, suddenly appeared Cernou's pale face. He was cut to the heart. Come on, said the police agent roughly. He rose and went down with the men. On the next floor he asked to be allowed to go back for something he had forgotten, but the man pushed him on. He offered them money even, and finally two agreed to go back

with him, swearing they would break his head if he played them any trick. They took their revolvers from their pockets. He returned to his room, went to the cage, and took out the bird, kissed it on its glossy head, and let it fly. He washed as it lighted on the roof of the fish market and then was off again, disappearing over the hall. He looked out toward the sky and thought of the doves in the garden of the Tzuileries, and then of the pigeons quivering in Mergelain's hands. He bowed his head and followed the men who shrug their shoulders and put their revolvers in their pockets. At the foot of the stairs, Florent stopped before the door which opened on the kitchen of the Chacutri. The commissary who was waiting there was touched by his submissiveness and said,

Do you wish to bid your brother goodbye? He hesitated a moment. He looked at the door from behind which came a deafening noise of choppers and mallets. Lisa, to occupy her husband. had suggested making the pudding which was usually done in the evening. Onions were frying on the fire. Florein heard Cunu say, Sounds, this pudding will be good.

Florent thanked the commissary, but was afraid to go into that hot kitchen full of the smell of cooking. He passed the door, strong in the belief that his brother knew nothing, and hastening his steps to avoid giving him an additional sorrow. As he entered the fiacre, he felt a shame to know that all the fishwoman were triumper, over him how guilty he looks whispered Madame lecoeur yes added Mademoiselle Sajet he has the air of a convict I once saw a man gaiotined murmured Lassariette who had just that expression they stretched out their necks to look into the fiacre just as it drove off the old maid pulled the skirts of her companions to call their attention to Claire who was running toward them with flying hair and bleeding hands she had torn open her door.

When she understood that she was too late, she shook her fist at the fiacre with impotent rage, then rushed away as swiftly as she had come, the plaster rising in fine clouds from her garments as she moved. He must have promised to marry her, cried La Seriette, laughing. The Cartier now calmed down, though groups still passed the windows of the charkouterie,

looking in curiously. Lisa did not appear at the counter. She left Augustine to a child. attend to all the duties there. She intended to tell all to Canoe that afternoon, lest some shatterbox should disclose the truth too abruptly. She wanted to be alone with him in the kitchen, knowing that he would burst into tears and make a terrible scene. She therefore proceeded with much care. But as soon as he understood it, he dropped upon the chopping block and sobbed like a child. "'Poor, dear boy,' said Lisa, smoothing his arm,

you must not go on like this, you will hurt yourself. His sobs subsided, and, when he could speak, he said, You can never know how good he was to me when we were living in La Rue Roye Coler. He did everything there. He swept and cooked. He loved me as if I were his own child. He worked like a dog and came home tired to death, and I had all I wanted to eat and was warm and lazy.

And now they will shoot him. Lisa exclaimed at this and told him that Florein would not be shot. That was ridiculous. He shook his head and continued. No, I never loved him half enough. I was selfish and mean, and I wanted to keep his money. But I offered it to him twenty times, she interrupted. We have nothing to reproach ourselves with.

I know that you have always been goodness itself to him, but I have been selfish, and I believe if I had shared everything with him that he would not have turned out badly a second time. It is all my own fault. She was very gentle with him. She even expressed sympathy for Florent. He was guilty, certainly,

and if he had had more money he might not have committed so many follies. And, by degrees, she hazarded the opinion that perhaps it was better as it was. Kenu wiped his eyes and ceased sobbing, that he might hear what she said, and at last put his hand mechanically on his chopping-knife. "'You have not been well,' said Lisa, "'nor have I, and I was really very anxious about you.'

"'And the shop, too, has been a very different place.' "'Yes, indeed,' sobbed Kunu. "'And you must remember,' added Lisa, "'that you have a wife and a child to think of. "'You have duties to fulfil toward us.' He smiled faintly. Lisa had done wonders. She called Pauline, who was playing in the shop,

placed her on her father's knees, and said, Pauline, ask your father to be good and not make us miserable. The child did, as she was told. The two looked at each other, and then at their child, and they smiled, with a sense of relief that they were once more by themselves, while the Chalcutier repeated two or three times. There are only three of us, dear. Only three of us. Two months later, Florent was condemned again to exile.

The affair made a great noise. The journals got whole. of all the details, gave portraits of the accused, and drawings of the scarves and rosettes, and the names of the places where the bands were to meet. All Paris discoursed for a week on the conspiracy of the Hall. The police looked the personification of mystery and importance. It was generally believed that the whole of the Cartier was undermined. At the Car Legislative, the excitement was so great that the center and the right

forgot the untoward law of endowment which had momentarily divided them, and became reconciled, voting by an overpowering majority, for the imposition of an unpopular tax, of which the Fubour's dared not complain, so great was the panic in the city. Floreen was considerably amazed at the exaggerated number of accomplices which were given to him, and the trial lasted a week. L'Augre was acquitted, as was La Caye.

Alexander was given two years in prison, and Gavar, like Floreen, was condemned to transportation. this was a terrible blow to the old man who was thus made to pay dearly for what he regarded more as a frolic than anything else and the tears streamed down the frightened face of this white-haired one morning in august just as the markets were beginning to be a stir clode lancis went to madame francois who sat with a sad face among her vegetables the painter was very quiet notwithstanding the golden sun that lay on the green velvet of the cabbages by her side well he said it is all over they are sending him away he is far on his way to breast by this time the market-woman made a gesture of profound despair she waved her hands and said it is paris this horrible paris no madame answered clod it is all these wretched people you have no idea of the falsehoods they told in court nor of the follies they committed will you believe that they even brought forward the child writing books. Claude clenched his fists.

He was seized with a nervous shiver and pulled his coat up. Never was there a more gentle soul, he said. I once saw him turn pale at seeing a pigeon killed. I absolutely laughed with pity when I saw him between the two gendarmes. I loved him because he was good and honorable. We shall never see him again.

He ought to have listened to me, said the marketwoman. He should have come to Nantere and lived there with me and my rabbits. He liked me and I loved him because I knew that I could trust him. Ah, me. Come and see me some morning, Monsieur Claude. I will make an omelette for you. It is a pity, and he might have been so happy.

Tears failed her eyes. She rose to her feet, with the air of a woman who was determined to shake off all her troubles. Here comes Mother Chathamesse after her turnips, she said. Clothes sauntered off. The markets were beginning to look very gay. He saw La Sariette with a gold watch stuck in her belt, busy with her prunes and strawberries,

stopping from time to time to pull the whiskers of her friend, Jules, who wore a new short velvet coat. He saw Madame Lacourre and Mademoiselle Sajet, less yellow than they used to be, laughing immoderately at some story the old maid was telling. In the fish market, Mother Mahoudan,

who had resumed her stall, reigned trium. over the new inspector, a very young man, while Claire languidly placed in her tank a quantity of shining whitings. At the tripe stall, August and Augustine were whispering over the pig's feet they were buying, with that unmistakable air of a newly married people. As he walked past the charcuterie, Much and Pauline were playing horse in front of the shop door. Much was on all fours, while Pauline, seated on his back, clutched at his hair to preserve her balance.

On the roof of the hull he saw two shadows. They were those of Cadine and Marjolais, kissing each other. Claude said to himself with a sardonic smile that it was the old story. The fat people had, as usual, triumphed. Here they all were, hearty and well, and Plurant pushed to the wall. As he stood, facing the rue Pirouette, the spectacle on his right and his left put the finishing touch to his exasperation. On the right side of the street,

La Belle Normand, or as she was now called La Belle Madame Le Bigre, stood at the door of her shop. Her husband had obtained permission to add to his wine shop a counter for the sale of tobacco. This had been a favorite dream of his, now gratified for sundry, mysterious services rendered.

Madame Le Bigre was really superb in her silk dress and crimped hair, arrayed in all this glory to take her seat at the counter, where the gentleman of the cartier came to buy their cigars and packages of tobacco. She looked quite the lady, and everything was new and shining about her.

Opposite, La Belle Lisa occupied the entire width of her door. Never had her linen been so immaculate, never had her face worn a more peaceful aspect, framed as it was by her shining hair. She seemed to be too tranquilly happy even to smile. She was the personification of absolute contentment. Her dimpled hands were half hidden in her apron. They were not even extended to receive the happiness of the day,

so sure was she that it would come to her. The shop, too, had resumed its former air of gaiety. The tongues and the sausages no longer had that disconsolate air which so disturbed connue. From the kitchen came a gay, resounding laugh accompanied by a rattling of saucepans, and all about the shop indicated that the unfortunate episode of Florence's sojourn was totally forgotten. The two women leaned forward and exchanged a cordial greeting,

and Clod, who perhaps had not dined the previous evening, was filled with rage at seeing them so prosperous and comfortable. He drew his belt tighter and said angrily, What scoundrels honest men can be! End of Chapter 6. End of the Markets of Paris by Emil Zola.