THE COMPLETE ROUGON-MACQUART SERIES (All 20 Books in One Edition). Эмиль Золя

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СКАЧАТЬ My soles stinking!” cried the fish dealer, flushing scarlet.

      For a moment they remained silent, choking with anger, but glaring fiercely at each other over the array of dishes. All their honeyed friendship had vanished; a word had sufficed to reveal what sharp teeth there were behind their smiling lips.

      “You’re a vulgar, low creature!” cried the beautiful Norman. “You’ll never catch me setting foot in here again, I can tell you!”

      “Get along with you, get along with you,” exclaimed beautiful Lisa. “I know quite well whom I’ve got to deal with!”

      The fish-girl went off, hurling behind her a coarse expression which left Lisa quivering. The whole scene had passed so quickly that the three men, overcome with amazement, had not had time to interfere. Lisa soon recovered herself, and was resuming the conversation, without making any allusion to what had just occurred, when the shop girl, Augustine, returned from an errand on which she had been sent. Lisa thereupon took Gavard aside, and after telling him to say nothing for the present to Monsieur Verlaque, promised that she would undertake to convince her brother-in-law in a couple of days’ time at the utmost. Quenu then returned to his kitchen, while Gavard took Florent off with him. And as they were just going into Monsieur Lebigre’s to drink a drop of vermouth together he called his attention to three women standing in the covered way between the fish and poultry pavilions.

      “They’re cackling together!” he said with an envious air.

      The markets were growing empty, and Mademoiselle Saget, Madame Lecoeur, and La Sarriette alone lingered on the edge of the footway. The old maid was holding forth.

      “As I told you before, Madame Lecoeur,” said she, “they’ve always got your brother-in-law in their shop. You saw him there yourself just now, didn’t you?”

      “Oh yes, indeed! He was sitting on a table, and seemed quite at home.”

      “Well, for my part,” interrupted La Sarriette, “I heard nothing wrong; and I can’t understand why you’re making such a fuss.”

      Mademoiselle Saget shrugged her shoulders. “Ah, you’re very innocent yet, my dear,” she said. “Can’t you see why the Quenus are always attracting Monsieur Gavard to their place? Well, I’ll wager that he’ll leave all he has to their little Pauline.”

      “You believe that, do you?” cried Madame Lecoeur, white with rage. Then, in a mournful voice, as though she had just received some heavy blow, she continued: “I am alone in the world, and have no one to take my part; he is quite at liberty to do as he pleases. His niece sides with him too — you heard her just now. She has quite forgotten all that she cost me, and wouldn’t stir a hand to help me.”

      “Indeed, aunt,” exclaimed La Sarriette, “you are quite wrong there! It’s you who’ve never had anything but unkind words for me.”

      They became reconciled on the spot, and kissed one another. The niece promised that she would play no more pranks, and the aunt swore by all she held most sacred that she looked upon La Sarriette as her own daughter. Then Mademoiselle Saget advised them as to the steps they ought to take to prevent Gavard from squandering his money. And they all agreed that the Quenu-Gradelles were very disreputable folks, and required closely watching.

      “I don’t know what they’re up to just now,” said the old maid, “but there’s something suspicious going on, I’m sure. What’s your opinion, now, of that fellow Florent, that cousin of Madame Quenu’s?”

      The three women drew more closely together, and lowered their voices.

      “You remember,” said Madame Lecoeur, “that we saw him one morning with his boots all split, and his clothes covered with dust, looking just like a thief who’s been up to some roguery. That fellow quite frightens me.”

      “Well, he’s certainly very thin,” said La Sarriette, “but he isn’t ugly.”

      Mademoiselle Saget was reflecting, and she expressed her thoughts aloud. “I’ve been trying to find out something about him for the last fortnight, but I can make nothing of it. Monsieur Gavard certainly knows him. I must have met him myself somewhere before, but I can’t remember where.”

      She was still ransacking her memory when La Normande swept up to them like a whirlwind. She had just left the pork shop.

      “That big booby Lisa has got nice manners, I must say!” she cried, delighted to be able to relieve herself. “Fancy her telling me that I sold nothing but stinking fish! But I gave her as good as she deserved, I can tell you! A nice den they keep, with their tainted pig meat which poisons all their customers!”

      “But what had you been saying to her?” asked the old maid, quite frisky with excitement, and delighted to hear that the two women had quarrelled.

      “I! I’d said just nothing at all — no, not that! I just went into the shop and told her very civilly that I’d buy some black-pudding tomorrow evening, and then she overwhelmed me with abuse. A dirty hypocrite she is, with her saint-like airs! But she’ll pay more dearly for this than she fancies!”

      The three women felt that La Normande was not telling them the truth, but this did not prevent them from taking her part with a rush of bad language. They turned towards the Rue Rambuteau with insulting mien, inventing all sorts of stories about the uncleanliness of the cookery at the Quenu’s shop, and making the most extraordinary accusations. If the Quenus had been detected selling human flesh the women could not have displayed more violent and threatening anger. The fish-girl was obliged to tell her story three times over.

      “And what did the cousin say?” asked Mademoiselle Saget, with wicked intent.

      “The cousin!” repeated La Normande, in a shrill voice. “Do you really believe that he’s a cousin? He’s some lover or other, I’ll wager, the great booby!”

      The three others protested against this. Lisa’s honourability was an article of faith in the neighbourhood.

      “Stuff and nonsense!” retorted La Normande. “You can never be sure about those smug, sleek hypocrites.”

      Mademoiselle Saget nodded her head as if to say that she was not very far from sharing La Normande’s opinion. And she softly added: “Especially as this cousin has sprung from no one knows where; for it’s a very doubtful sort of account that the Quenus give of him.”

      “Oh, he’s the fat woman’s sweetheart, I tell you!” reaffirmed the fish-girl; “some scamp or vagabond picked up in the streets. It’s easy enough to see it.”

      “She has given him a complete outfit,” remarked Madame Lecoeur. “He must be costing her a pretty penny.”

      “Yes, yes,” muttered the old maid; “perhaps you are right. I must really get to know something about him.”

      Then they all promised to keep one another thoroughly informed of whatever might take place in the Quenu-Gradelle establishment. The butter dealer pretended that she wished to open her brother-in-law’s eyes as to the sort of places he frequented. However, La Normande’s anger had by this time toned down, and, a good sort of girl at heart, she went off, weary of having talked so much on the matter.

      “I’m sure that La Normande said something or other insolent,” remarked Madame Lecoeur knowingly, when the fish-girl had left СКАЧАТЬ