“You may say what you like,” exclaimed the old woman; “but he’s got treacherous eyes.  And, besides, I’m always suspicious of those skinny people.  A skinny man’s capable of anything.  I’ve never come across a decent one yet.  That one’s as flat as a board.  And he’s got such an ugly face, too!  Though I’m sixty-five and more, I’d precious soon send him about his business if he came a-courting of me!”

She said this because she had a shrewd idea of how matters were likely to turn out.  And then she went on to speak in laudatory terms of Monsieur Lebigre, who, indeed, paid the greatest attention to the beautiful Norman.  Apart from the handsome dowry which he imagined she would bring with her, he considered that she would be a magnificent acquisition to his counter.  The old woman never missed an opportunity to sound his praises; there was no lankiness, at any rate, about him, said she; he was stout and strong, with a pair of calves which would have done honour even to one of the Emperor’s footmen.

However, La Normande shrugged her shoulders and snappishly replied:  “What do I care whether he’s stout or not?  I don’t want him or anybody.  And besides, I shall do as I please.”

Then, if the old woman became too pointed in her remarks, the other added:  “It’s no business of yours, and besides, it isn’t true.  Hold your tongue and don’t worry me.”  And thereupon she would go off into her room, banging the door behind her.  Florent, however, had a yet more bitter enemy than Madame Mehudin in the house.  As soon as ever he arrived there, Claire would get up without a word, take a candle, and go off to her own room on the other side of the landing; and she could be heard locking her door in a burst of sullen anger.  One evening when her sister asked the tutor to dinner, she prepared her own food on the landing, and ate it in her bedroom; and now and again she secluded herself so closely that nothing was seen of her for a week at a time.  She usually retained her appearance of soft lissomness, but periodically had a fit of iron rigidity, when her eyes blazed from under her pale tawny locks like those of a distrustful wild animal.  Old Mother Mehudin, fancying that she might relieve herself in her company, only made her furious by speaking to her of Florent; and thereupon the old woman, in her exasperation, told everyone that she would have gone off and left her daughters to themselves had she not been afraid of their devouring each other if they remained alone together.

As Florent went away one evening, he passed in front of Claire’s door, which was standing wide open.  He saw the girl look at him, and turn very red.  Her hostile demeanour annoyed him; and it was only the timidity which he felt in the presence of women that restrained him from seeking an explanation of her conduct.  On this particular evening he would certainly have addressed her if he had not detected Mademoiselle Saget’s pale face peering over the balustrade of the upper landing.  So he went his way, but had not taken a dozen steps before Claire’s door was closed behind him with such violence as to shake the whole staircase.  It was after this that Mademoiselle Saget, eager to propagate slander, went about repeating everywhere that Madame Quenu’s cousin was “carrying on” most dreadfully with both the Mehudin girls.