The three men remained silent in presence of this explosion of anger.  Gavard had gone to lean over the brass rail of the window-front, where, seemingly lost in thought, he began playing with one of the cut-glass balusters detached from its wire fastening.  Presently, however, he raised his head.  “Well, for my part,” he said, “I looked upon it all as an excellent joke.”

“Looked upon what as a joke?” asked Lisa, still quivering with indignation.

“The inspectorship.”

She raised her hands, gave a last glance at Florent, and then sat down upon the cushioned bench behind the counter and said nothing further.  Gavard, however, began to explain his views at length; the drift of his argument being that it was the Government which would look foolish in the matter, since Florent would be taking its money.

“My dear fellow,” he said complacently, “those scoundrels all but starved you to death, didn’t they?  Well, you must make them feed you now.  It’s a splendid idea; it caught my fancy at once!”

Florent smiled, but still persisted in his refusal.  Quenu, in the hope of pleasing his wife, did his best to find some good arguments.  Lisa, however, appeared to pay no further attention to them.  For the last moment or two she had been looking attentively in the direction of the markets.  And all at once she sprang to her feet again, exclaiming, “Ah! it is La Normande that they are sending to play the spy on us now!  Well, so much the worse for La Normande; she shall pay for the others!”

A tall female pushed the shop door open.  It was the handsome fish-girl, Louise Mehudin, generally known as La Normande.  She was a bold-looking beauty, with a delicate white skin, and was almost as plump as Lisa, but there was more effrontery in her glance, and her bosom heaved with warmer life.  She came into the shop with a light swinging step, her gold chain jingling on her apron, her bare hair arranged in the latest style, and a bow at her throat, a lace bow, which made her one of the most coquettish-looking queens of the markets.  She brought a vague odour of fish with her, and a herring-scale showed like a tiny patch of mother-of-pearl near the little finger of one of her hands.  She and Lisa having lived in the same house in the Rue Pirouette, were intimate friends, linked by a touch of rivalry which kept each of them busy with thoughts of the other.  In the neighbourhood people spoke of “the beautiful Norman,” just as they spoke of “beautiful Lisa.”  This brought them into opposition and comparison, and compelled each of them to do her utmost to sustain her reputation for beauty.  Lisa from her counter could, by stooping a little, perceive the fish-girl amidst her salmon and turbot in the pavilion opposite; and each kept a watch on the other.  Beautiful Lisa laced herself more tightly in her stays; and the beautiful Norman replied by placing additional rings on her fingers and additional bows on her shoulders.  When they met they were very bland and unctuous and profuse in compliments; but all the while their eyes were furtively glancing from under their lowered lids, in the hope of discovering some flaw.  They made a point of always dealing with each other, and professed great mutual affection.