ter circumstanced than himself, for, in spite of his theory of the
equality of the sexes, this lowered him.

Although the discussions in the little room had virtually no result,
they served to exercise the speakers' lungs. A tremendous hubbub
proceeded from the sanctum, and the panes of frosted glass vibrated
like drum-skins. Sometimes the uproar became so great that Rose, while
languidly serving some blouse-wearing customer in the shop, would turn
her head uneasily.

"Why, they're surely fighting together in there," the customer would
say, as he put his glass down on the zinc-covered counter, and wiped his
mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, there's no fear of that," Monsieur Lebigre tranquilly replied.
"It's only some gentlemen talking together."

Monsieur Lebigre, indeed, although very strict with his other customers,
allowed the politicians to shout as loudly as they pleased, and never
made the least remark on the subject. He would sit for hours together on
the bench behind the counter, with his big head lolling drowsily against
the mirror, whilst he watched Rose uncorking the bottles and giving a
wipe here and there with her duster. And in spite of the somniferous
effects of the wine fumes and the warm streaming gaslight, he would keep
his ears open to the sounds proceeding from the little room. At times,
when the voices grew noisier than usual, he got up from his seat and
went to lean against the partition; and occasionally he even pushed the
door open, and went inside and sat down there for a few minutes, giving
Gavard a friendly slap on the thigh. And then he would nod approval
of everything that was said. The poultry dealer asserted that although
friend Lebigre hadn't the stuff of an orator in him, they might safely
reckon on him when the "shindy" came.

One morning, however, at the markets, when a tremendous row broke out
between Rose and one of the fish-wives, through the former accidentally
knocking over a basket of herrings, Florent heard Rose's employer spoken
of as a "dirty spy" in the pay of the police. And after he had succeeded
in restoring peace, all sorts of stories about Monsieur Lebigre were
poured into his ears. Yes, the wine seller was in the pay of the police,
the fish-wives said; all the neighbourhood knew it. Before Mademoiselle
Saget had begun to deal with him she had once met him entering the
Prefecture to make his report. It was asserted, too, that he was a
money-monger, a usurer, a