Mademoiselle Saget was just promising to come, when, happening to turn round, she discovered Gavard looking at her and listening to what she was saying.  She turned very red, and, contracting her skinny shoulders, hurried away, affecting not to recognise him.  Gavard, however, followed her for a few yards, shrugging his shoulders and muttering to himself that he was no longer surprised at the old shrew’s malice, now he knew that “she poisoned herself with the filth carted away from the Tuileries.”

On the very next morning vague rumours began to circulate in the markets.  Madame Lecoeur and La Sarriette were in their own fashion keeping the oaths of silence they had taken.  For her own part, Mademoiselle Saget warily held her tongue, leaving the two others to circulate the story of Florent’s antecedents.  At first only a few meagre details were hawked about in low tones; then various versions of the facts got into circulation, incidents were exaggerated, and gradually quite a legend was constructed, in which Florent played the part of a perfect bogey man.  He had killed ten gendarmes at the barricade in the Rue Greneta, said some; he had returned to France on a pirate ship whose crew scoured the seas to murder everyone they came across, said others; whilst a third set declared that ever since his arrival he had been observed prowling about at nighttime with suspicious-looking characters, of whom he was undoubtedly the leader.  Soon the imaginative market women indulged in the highest flights of fancy, revelled in the most melodramatic ideas.  There was talk of a band of smugglers plying their nefarious calling in the very heart of Paris, and of a vast central association formed for systematically robbing the stalls in the markets.  Much pity was expressed for the Quenu-Gradelles, mingled with malicious allusions to their uncle’s fortune.  That fortune was an endless subject of discussion.  The general opinion was that Florent had returned to claim his share of the treasure; however, as no good reason was forthcoming to explain why the division had not taken place already, it was asserted that Florent was waiting for some opportunity which might enable him to pocket the whole amount.  The Quenu-Gradelles would certainly be found murdered some morning, it was said; and a rumour spread that dreadful quarrels already took place every night between the two brothers and beautiful Lisa.

When these stories reached the ears of the beautiful Norman, she shrugged her shoulders and burst out laughing.

“Get away with you!” she cried, “you don’t know him.  Why, the dear fellow’s as gentle as a lamb.”