And, as Madame Quenu replied that she was quite indifferent to gossip, and that it had no effect upon her, the old maid whispered into her ear across the counter:  “Well, people say, you know, that Monsieur Florent isn’t your cousin at all.”

Then she gradually allowed Lisa to see that she knew the whole story; by way of proving that she had her quite at her mercy.  When Lisa confessed the truth, equally as a matter of diplomacy, in order that she might have the assistance of some one who would keep her well posted in all the gossip of the neighbourhood, the old maid swore that for her own part she would be as mute as a fish, and deny the truth of the reports about Florent, even if she were to be led to the stake for it.  And afterwards this drama brought her intense enjoyment; every morning she came to the shop with some fresh piece of disturbing news.

“You must be careful,” she whispered one day; “I have just heard two women in the tripe market talking about you know what.  I can’t interrupt people and tell them they are lying, you know.  It would look so strange.  But the story’s got about, and it’s spreading farther every day.  It can’t be stopped now, I fear; the truth will have to come out.”

A few days later she returned to the assault in all earnest.  She made her appearance looking quite scared, and waited impatiently till there was no one in the shop, when she burst out in her sibilant voice: 

“Do you know what people are saying now?  Well, they say that all those men who meet at Monsieur Lebigre’s have got guns, and are going to break out again as they did in ’48.  It’s quite distressing to see such a worthy man as Monsieur Gavard—­rich, too, and so respectable—­leaguing himself with such scoundrels!  I was very anxious to let you know, on account of your brother-in-law.”

“Oh, it’s mere nonsense, I’m sure; it can’t be serious,” rejoined Lisa, just to incite the old maid to tell her more.

“Not serious, indeed!  Why, when one passes along the Rue Pirouette in the evening one can hear them screaming out in the most dreadful way.  Oh! they make no mystery of it all.  You know yourself how they tried to corrupt your husband.  And the cartridges which I have seen them making from my own window, are they mere nonsense?  Well, well, I’m only telling you this for your own good.”

“Oh!  I’m sure of that, and I’m very much obliged to you,” replied Lisa; “but people do invent such stories, you know.”

“Ah, but this is no invention, unfortunately.  The whole neighbourhood is talking of it.  It is said, too, that if the police discover the matter there will be a great many people compromised—­Monsieur Gavard, for instance.”

Madame Quenu shrugged her shoulders as though to say that Monsieur Gavard was an old fool, and that it would do him good to be locked up.

“Well, I merely mention Monsieur Gavard as I might mention any of the others, your brother-in-law, for instance,” resumed the old maid with a wily glance.  “Your brother-in-law is the leader, it seems.  That’s very annoying for you, and I’m very sorry indeed; for if the police were to make a descent here they might march Monsieur Quenu off as well.  Two brothers, you know, they’re like two fingers of the same hand.”