gs. 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.

The evenings were growing cold, and as soon as they had dined they
retired into the kitchen, where it was very warm. The room was so large,
too, that several people could sit comfortably at the square central
table, without in any way impeding the work that was going on. Lighted
by gas, the walls were coated with white and blue tiles to a height
of some five or six feet from the floor. On the left was a great iron
stove, in the three apertures of which were set three large round pots,
their bottoms black with soot. At the end was a small range, which,
fitted with an oven and a smoking-place, served for the broiling; and
up above, over the skimming-spoons, ladles, and long-handled forks, were
several numbered drawers, containing rasped bread, both fine and coarse,
toasted crumbs, spices, cloves, nutmegs, and pepper. On the right,
leaning heavily against the wall, was the chopping-block, a huge mass
of oak, slashed and scored all over. Attached to it were several
appliances, an injecting pump, a forcing-machine, and a mechanical
mincer, which, with their wheels and cranks, imparted to the place an
uncanny and mysterious aspect, suggesting some kitchen of the infernal
regions.

Then, all round the walls upon shelves, and even under the tables,
were iron pots, earthenware pans, dishes, pails, various kinds of tin
utensils, a perfect battery of deep copper saucepans, and swelling
funnels, racks of knives and choppers, rows of larding-pins and
needles--a perfect world of greasy things. In spite of the extreme
cleanliness, grease was paramount; it oozed forth from between the blue
and white tiles on the wall,