time, whenever his mother's back was turned, was to
build walls and houses of herrings; and he would also play at soldiers
on the marble slab, arranging the red gurnets in confronting lines,
pushing them against each other, and battering their heads, while
imitating the sound of drum and trumpet with his lips; after which he
would throw them all into a heap again, and exclaim that they were dead.
When he grew older he would prowl about his aunt Claire's stall to get
hold of the bladders of the carp and pike which she gutted. He placed
them on the ground and made them burst, an amusement which afforded
him vast delight. When he was seven he rushed about the alleys, crawled
under the stalls, ferreted amongst the zinc bound fish boxes, and became
the spoiled pet of all the women. Whenever they showed him something
fresh which pleased him, he would clasp his hands and exclaim in
ecstasy, "Oh, isn't it stunning!" _Muche_ was the exact word which he
used; _muche_ being the equivalent of "stunning" in the lingo of the
markets; and he used the expression so often that it clung to him as a
nickname. He became known all over the place as "Muche." It was Muche
here, there and everywhere; no one called him anything else. He was to
be met with in every nook; in out-of-the-way corners of the offices in
the auction pavilion; among the piles of oyster baskets, and betwixt the
buckets where the refuse was thrown. With a pinky fairness of skin, he
was like a young barbel frisking and gliding about in deep water. He
was as fond of running, streaming water as any young fry. He was
ever dabbling in the pools in the alleys. He wetted himself with the
drippings from the tables, and when no one was looking often slyly
turned on the taps, rejoicing in the bursting gush of water. But it was
especially beside the fountains near the cellar steps that his mother
went to seek him in the evening, and she would bring him thence with his
hands quite blue, and his shoes, and even his pockets, full of water.

At seven years old Muche was as pretty as an angel, and as coarse in his
manners as any carter. He had curly chestnut hair, beautiful eyes,
and an innocent-looking mouth which gave vent to language that even a
gendarme would have hesitated to use. Brought up amidst all the ribaldry
and profanity of the markets, he had the whole vocabulary of the place
on the tip of his tongue. With his hands on his hips he often mimicked
Grandmother Mehudin in her an