“As I told you before, Madame Lecoeur,” said she, “they’ve always got your brother-in-law in their shop.  You saw him there yourself just now, didn’t you?”

“Oh yes, indeed!  He was sitting on a table, and seemed quite at home.”

“Well, for my part,” interrupted La Sarriette, “I heard nothing wrong; and I can’t understand why you’re making such a fuss.”

Mademoiselle Saget shrugged her shoulders.  “Ah, you’re very innocent yet, my dear,” she said.  “Can’t you see why the Quenus are always attracting Monsieur Gavard to their place?  Well, I’ll wager that he’ll leave all he has to their little Pauline.”

“You believe that, do you?” cried Madame Lecoeur, white with rage.  Then, in a mournful voice, as though she had just received some heavy blow, she continued:  “I am alone in the world, and have no one to take my part; he is quite at liberty to do as he pleases.  His niece sides with him too—­you heard her just now.  She has quite forgotten all that she cost me, and wouldn’t stir a hand to help me.”

“Indeed, aunt,” exclaimed La Sarriette, “you are quite wrong there!  It’s you who’ve never had anything but unkind words for me.”

They became reconciled on the spot, and kissed one another.  The niece promised that she would play no more pranks, and the aunt swore by all she held most sacred that she looked upon La Sarriette as her own daughter.  Then Mademoiselle Saget advised them as to the steps they ought to take to prevent Gavard from squandering his money.  And they all agreed that the Quenu-Gradelles were very disreputable folks, and required closely watching.

“I don’t know what they’re up to just now,” said the old maid, “but there’s something suspicious going on, I’m sure.  What’s your opinion, now, of that fellow Florent, that cousin of Madame Quenu’s?”

The three women drew more closely together, and lowered their voices.

“You remember,” said Madame Lecoeur, “that we saw him one morning with his boots all split, and his clothes covered with dust, looking just like a thief who’s been up to some roguery.  That fellow quite frightens me.”

“Well, he’s certainly very thin,” said La Sarriette, “but he isn’t ugly.”

Mademoiselle Saget was reflecting, and she expressed her thoughts aloud.  “I’ve been trying to find out something about him for the last fortnight, but I can make nothing of it.  Monsieur Gavard certainly knows him.  I must have met him myself somewhere before, but I can’t remember where.”

She was still ransacking her memory when La Normande swept up to them like a whirlwind.  She had just left the pork shop.

“That big booby Lisa has got nice manners, I must say!” she cried, delighted to be able to relieve herself.  “Fancy her telling me that I sold nothing but stinking fish!  But I gave her as good as she deserved, I can tell you!  A nice den they keep, with their tainted pig meat which poisons all their customers!”