“I say,” said La Normande, with her smiling air, “it’s to-morrow evening that you make your black-puddings, isn’t it?”

Lisa maintained a cold demeanour.  She seldom showed any anger; but when she did it was tenacious, and slow to be appeased.  “Yes,” she replied drily, with the tips of her lips.

“I’m so fond of black-puddings, you know, when they come straight out of the pot,” resumed La Normande.  “I’ll come and get some of you to-morrow.”

She was conscious of her rival’s unfriendly greeting.  However, she glanced at Florent, who seemed to interest her; and then, unwilling to go off without having the last word, she was imprudent enough to add:  “I bought some black-pudding of you the day before yesterday, you know, and it wasn’t quite sweet.”

“Not quite sweet!” repeated Lisa, very pale, and her lips quivering.

She might, perhaps, have once more restrained herself, for fear of La Normande imagining that she was overcome by envious spite at the sight of the lace bow; but the girl, not content with playing the spy, proceeded to insult her, and that was beyond endurance.  So, leaning forward, with her hands clenched on the counter, she exclaimed, in a somewhat hoarse voice:  “I say! when you sold me that pair of soles last week, did I come and tell you, before everybody that they were stinking?”

“Stinking!  My soles stinking!” cried the fish dealer, flushing scarlet.

For a moment they remained silent, choking with anger, but glaring fiercely at each other over the array of dishes.  All their honeyed friendship had vanished; a word had sufficed to reveal what sharp teeth there were behind their smiling lips.

“You’re a vulgar, low creature!” cried the beautiful Norman.  “You’ll never catch me setting foot in here again, I can tell you!”

“Get along with you, get along with you,” exclaimed beautiful Lisa.  “I know quite well whom I’ve got to deal with!”

The fish-girl went off, hurling behind her a coarse expression which left Lisa quivering.  The whole scene had passed so quickly that the three men, overcome with amazement, had not had time to interfere.  Lisa soon recovered herself, and was resuming the conversation, without making any allusion to what had just occurred, when the shop girl, Augustine, returned from an errand on which she had been sent.  Lisa thereupon took Gavard aside, and after telling him to say nothing for the present to Monsieur Verlaque, promised that she would undertake to convince her brother-in-law in a couple of days’ time at the utmost.  Quenu then returned to his kitchen, while Gavard took Florent off with him.  And as they were just going into Monsieur Lebigre’s to drink a drop of vermouth together he called his attention to three women standing in the covered way between the fish and poultry pavilions.

“They’re cackling together!” he said with an envious air.

The markets were growing empty, and Mademoiselle Saget, Madame Lecoeur, and La Sarriette alone lingered on the edge of the footway.  The old maid was holding forth.