into it a large measureful of black-currant syrup and a smaller one of brandy.  Then the bottle disappeared under the apron again, and Mademoiselle Saget, with her hands out of sight, remained talking in the bright glow of the counter, face to face with the big mirror, in which the flasks and bottles of liqueurs were reflected like rows of Venetian lanterns.  In the evening all the metal and glass of the establishment helped to illuminate it with wonderful brilliancy.  The old maid, standing there in her black skirts, looked almost like some big strange insect amidst all the crude brightness.  Florent noticed that she was trying to inveigle Rose into a conversation, and shrewdly suspected that she had caught sight of him through the half open doorway.  Since he had been on duty at the markets he had met her at almost every step, loitering in one or another of the covered ways, and generally in the company of Madame Lecoeur and La Sarriette.  He had noticed also that the three women stealthily examined him, and seemed lost in amazement at seeing him installed in the position of inspector.  That evening, however, Rose was no doubt loath to enter into conversation with the old maid, for the latter at last turned round, apparently with the intention of approaching Monsieur Lebigre, who was playing piquet with a customer at one of the bronzed tables.  Creeping quietly along, Mademoiselle Saget had at last managed to install herself beside the partition of the cabinet, when she was observed by Gavard, who detested her.

“Shut the door, Florent!” he cried unceremoniously.  “We can’t even be by ourselves, it seems!”

When midnight came and Lacaille went away he exchanged a few whispered words with Monsieur Lebigre, and as the latter shook hands with him he slipped four five-franc pieces into his palm, without anyone noticing it.  “That’ll make twenty-two francs that you’ll have to pay to-morrow, remember,” he whispered in his ear.  “The person who lends the money won’t do it for less in future.  Don’t forget, too, that you owe three days’ truck hire.  You must pay everything off.”

Then Monsieur Lebigre wished the friends good night.  He was very sleepy and should sleep well, he said, with a yawn which revealed his big teeth, while Rose gazed at him with an air of submissive humility.  However, he gave her a push, and told her to go and turn out the gas in the little room.

On reaching the pavement, Gavard stumbled and nearly fell.  And being in a humorous vein, he thereupon exclaimed:  “Confound it all!  At any rate, I don’t seem to be leaning on anybody’s lights.”

This remark seemed to amuse the others, and the party broke up.  A little later Florent returned to Lebigre’s, and indeed he became quite attached to the “cabinet,” finding a seductive charm in Robine’s contemplative silence, Logre’s fiery outbursts, and Charvet’s cool venom.  When he went home, he did not at once retire to bed.  He had grown very fond of his attic, that girlish