dle class, from distant parts of the city, who
had come down at four o'clock in the morning to buy a really fresh fish,
and had ended by allowing some enormous lot, costing from forty to fifty
francs, to be knocked down to them, with the result that they would
be obliged to spend the whole day in getting their friends and
acquaintances to take the surplus off their hands. Every now and then
some violent pushing would force a gap through part of the crowd. A
fish-wife, who had got tightly jammed, freed herself, shaking her fists
and pouring out a torrent of abuse. Then a compact mass of people again
collected, and Florent, almost suffocated, declared that he had seen
quite enough, and understood all that was necessary.

As Monsieur Verlaque was helping him to extricate himself from the
crowd, they found themselves face to face with the handsome Norman.
She remained stock-still in front of them, and with her queenly air
inquired:

"Well, is it quite settled? You are going to desert us, Monsieur
Verlaque?"

"Yes, yes," replied the little man; "I am going to take a rest in the
country, at Clamart. The smell of the fish is bad for me, it seems.
Here, this is the gentleman who is going to take my place."

So speaking he turned round to introduce Florent to her. The handsome
Norman almost choked; however, as Florent went off, he fancied he could
hear her whisper to her neighbours, with a laugh: "Well, we shall have
some fine fun now, see if we don't!"

The fish-wives had begun to set out their stalls. From all the taps at
the corners of the marble slabs water was gushing freely; and there was
a rustling sound all round, like the plashing of rain, a streaming of
stiff jets of water hissing and spurting. And then, from the lower side
of the sloping slabs, great drops fell with a softened murmur, splashing
on the flagstones where a mass of tiny streams flowed along here
and there, turning holes and depressions into miniature lakes, and
afterwards gliding in a thousand rills down the slope towards the Rue
Rambuteau. A moist haze ascended, a sort of rainy dust, bringing fresh
whiffs of air to Florent's face, whiffs of that salt, pungent sea breeze
which he remembered so well; while in such fish as was already laid out
he once more beheld the rosy nacres, gleaming corals, and milky pearls,
all the rippling colour and glaucous pallidity of the ocean world.

That first morning left him much in doubt; indeed, he regretted that he