“Don’t give me any saveloy,” she exclaimed; “I don’t like it.”

Lisa had taken up a slender knife, and was cutting some thin slices of sausage.  She next passed on to the smoked ham and the common ham, cutting delicate slices from each, and bending forward slightly as she did so, with her eyes ever fixed on the knife.  Her plump rosy hands, flitting about the viands with light and gentle touches, seemed to have derived suppleness from contact with all the fat.

“You would like some larded veal, wouldn’t you?” she asked, bringing a yellow pan towards her.

Madame Lecoeur seemed to be thinking the matter over at considerable length; however, she at last said that she would have some.  Lisa had now begun to cut into the contents of the pans, from which she removed slices of larded veal and hare pate on the tip of a broad-bladed knife.  And she deposited each successive slice on the middle of a sheet of paper placed on the scales.

“Aren’t you going to give me some of the boar’s head with pistachio nuts?” asked Madame Lecoeur in her querulous voice.

Lisa was obliged to add some of the boar’s head.  But the butter dealer was getting exacting, and asked for two slices of galantine.  She was very fond of it.  Lisa, who was already irritated, played impatiently with the handles of the knives, and told her that the galantine was truffled, and that she could only include it in an “assortment” at three francs the pound.  Madame Lecoeur, however, continued to pry into the dishes, trying to find something else to ask for.  When the “assortment” was weighed she made Lisa add some jelly and gherkins to it.  The block of jelly, shaped like a Savoy cake, shook on its white china dish beneath the angry violence of Lisa’s hand; and as with her finger-tips she took a couple of gherkins from a jar behind the heater, she made the vinegar spurt over the sides.

“Twenty-five sous, isn’t it?” Madame Lecoeur leisurely inquired.

She fully perceived Lisa’s covert irritation, and greatly enjoyed the sight of it, producing her money as slowly as possible, as though, indeed, her silver had got lost amongst the coppers in her pocket.  And she glanced askance at Gavard, relishing the embarrassed silence which her presence was prolonging, and vowing that she would not go off, since they were hiding some trickery or other from her.  However, Lisa at last put the parcel in her hands, and she was then obliged to make her departure.  She went away without saying a word, but darting a searching glance all round the shop.

“It was that Saget who sent her too!” burst out Lisa, as soon as the old woman was gone.  “Is the old wretch going to send the whole market here to try to find out what we talk about?  What a prying, malicious set they are!  Did anyone ever hear before of crumbed cutlets and ‘assortments’ being bought at five o’clock in the afternoon?  But then they’d rack themselves with indigestion rather than not find out!  Upon my word, though, if La Saget sends anyone else here, you’ll see the reception she’ll get.  I would bundle her out of the shop, even if she were my own sister!”