s, and
from morning till night she sang songs, which were alternately risque or
sentimental, in a harsh voice; told silly, interminable tales, and only
stopped talking in order to eat, and left off eating in order to talk;
she was never still, and was active as a squirrel, in spite of her
embonpoint and her short legs; her laugh, which was a torrent of shrill
cries, resounded here and there, ceaselessly, in a bedroom, in the loft,
in the cafe, everywhere, and all about nothing.

The two women on the ground floor, Lodise, who was nicknamed La Cocotte,
and Flora, whom they called Balancoise, because she limped a little, the
former always dressed as the Goddess of Liberty, with a tri-colored sash,
and the other as a Spanish woman, with a string of copper coins in her
carroty hair, which jingled at every uneven step, looked like cooks
dressed up for the carnival. They were like all other women of the lower
orders, neither uglier nor better looking than they usually are.

They looked just like servants at an inn, and were generally called "the
two pumps."

A jealous peace, which was, however, very rarely disturbed, reigned among
these five women, thanks to Madame Tellier's conciliatory wisdom, and to
her constant good humor, and the establishment, which was the only one of
the kind in the little town, was very much frequented. Madame Tellier had
succeeded in giving it such a respectable appearance, she was so amiable
and obliging to everybody, her good heart was so well known, that she was
treated with a certain amount of consideration. The regular customers
spent money on her, and were delighted when she was especially friendly
toward them, and when they met during the day, they would say: "Until
this evening, you know where," just as men say: "At the club, after
dinner." In a word, Madame Tellier's house was somewhere to go to, and
they very rarely missed their daily meetings there.

One evening toward the end of May, the first arrival, Monsieur Poulin,
who was a timber merchant, and had been mayor, found the door shut. The
lantern behind the grating was not alight; there was not a sound in the
house; everything seemed dead. He knocked, gently at first, but then more
loudly, but nobody answered the door. Then he went slowly up the street,
and when he got to the market place he met Monsieur Duvert, the gunmaker,
who was going to the same place, so they went back together, but did not
meet with any better success. But sud