“See!” suddenly exclaimed Mademoiselle Saget, “the beautiful Norman’s buying something!  What is it she’s buying?  It’s a chitterling, I believe!  Ah!  Look! look!  You didn’t see it, did you?  Well, beautiful Lisa just gave her the photograph; she slipped it into her hand with the chitterling.”

Fresh salutations were then seen to pass between the two women; and the beautiful Lisa, exceeding even the courtesies which had been agreed upon, accompanied the beautiful Norman to the footway.  There they stood laughing together, exhibiting themselves to the neighbourhood like a couple of good friends.  The markets were quite delighted; and the saleswomen returned to their stalls, declaring that everything had passed off extremely well.

Mademoiselle Saget, however, detained Madame Lecoeur and La Sarriette.  The drama was not over yet.  All three kept their eyes fixed on the house opposite with such keen curiosity that they seemed trying to penetrate the very walls.  To pass the time away they once more began to talk of the beautiful Norman.

“She’s without a lover now,” remarked Madame Lecoeur.

“Oh! she’s got Monsieur Lebigre,” replied La Sarriette, with a laugh.

“But surely Monsieur Lebigre won’t have anything more to say to her.”

Mademoiselle Saget shrugged her shoulders.  “Ah, you don’t know him,” she said.  “He won’t care a straw about all this business.  He knows what he’s about, and La Normande is rich.  They’ll come together in a couple of months, you’ll see.  Old Madame Mehudin’s been scheming to bring about their marriage for a long time past.”

“Well, anyway,” retorted the butter dealer, “the commissary found Florent at her lodgings.”

“No, no, indeed; I’m sure I never told you that.  The long spindle-shanks had gone way,” replied the old maid.  She paused to take a breath; then resumed in an indignant tone, “What distressed me most was to hear of all the abominable things that the villain had taught little Muche.  You’d really never believe it.  There was a whole bundle of papers.”

“What sort of abominable things?” asked La Sarriette with interest.

“Oh, all kinds of filth.  The commissary said there was quite sufficient there to hang him.  The fellow’s a perfect monster!  To go and demoralise a child!  Why, it’s almost past believing!  Little Muche is certainly a scamp, but that’s no reason why he should be given over to the ‘Reds,’ is it?”

“Certainly not,” assented the two others.

“However, all these mysterious goings-on will come to an end now.  You remember my telling you once that there was some strange goings-on at the Quenus’?  Well, you see, I was right in my conclusions, wasn’t I?  Thank God, however, the neighbourhood will now be able to breathe easily.  It was high time strong steps were taken, for things had got to such a pitch that one actually felt afraid of being murdered in broad daylight.  There was