“All the same, I would rather have been a working man,” continued Claude.  “Look at the carpenters, for instance.  They are very happy folks, the carpenters.  They have a table to make, say; well, they make it, and then go off to bed, happy at having finished the table, and perfectly satisfied with themselves.  Now I, on the other hand, scarcely get any sleep at nights.  All those confounded pictures which I can’t finish go flying about my brain.  I never get anything finished and done with—­never, never!”

His voice almost broke into a sob.  Then he attempted to laugh; and afterwards began to swear and pour forth coarse expressions, with the cold rage of one who, endowed with a delicate, sensitive mind, doubts his own powers, and dreams of wallowing in the mire.  He ended by squatting down before one of the gratings which admit air into the cellars beneath the markets—­cellars where the gas is continually kept burning.  And in the depths below he pointed out Marjolin and Cadine tranquilly eating their supper, whilst seated on one of the stone blocks used for killing the poultry.  The two young vagabonds had discovered a means of hiding themselves and making themselves at home in the cellars after the doors had been closed.

“What a magnificent animal he is, eh!” exclaimed Claude, with envious admiration, speaking of Marjolin.  “He and Cadine are happy, at all events!  All they care for is eating and kissing.  They haven’t a care in the world.  Ah, you do quite right, after all, to remain at the pork shop; perhaps you’ll grow sleek and plump there.”

Then he suddenly went off.  Florent climbed up to his garret, disturbed by Claude’s nervous restlessness, which revived his own uncertainty.  On the morrow, he avoided the pork shop all the morning, and went for a long walk on the quays.  When he returned to lunch, however, he was struck by Lisa’s kindliness.  Without any undue insistence she again spoke to him about the inspectorship, as of something which was well worth his consideration.  As he listened to her, with a full plate in front of him, he was affected, in spite of himself, by the prim comfort of his surroundings.  The matting beneath his feet seemed very soft; the gleams of the brass hanging lamp, the soft, yellow tint of the wallpaper, and the bright oak of the furniture filled him with appreciation of a life spent in comfort, which disturbed his notions of right and wrong.  He still, however, had sufficient strength to persist in his refusal, and repeated his reasons; albeit conscious of the bad taste he was showing in thus ostentatiously parading his animosity and obstinacy in such a place.  Lisa showed no signs of vexation; on the contrary, she smiled, and the sweetness of her smile embarrassed Florent far more than her suppressed irritation of the previous evening.  At dinner the subject was not renewed; they talked solely of the great winter saltings, which would keep the whole staff of the establishment busily employed.