nticipated. On the other hand,
the lad, with his sly, greedy phiz and his white garments, which made
him look like a girl going to her first communion, somewhat took her
fancy.

She invited him to a monster lunch which she gave amongst the hampers
in the auction room at the butter market. The three of them--herself,
Marjolin, and Leon--completely secluded themselves from the world within
four walls of osier. The feast was laid out on a large flat basket.
There were pears, nuts, cream-cheese, shrimps, fried potatoes,
and radishes. The cheese came from a fruiterer's in the Rue de la
Cossonnerie, and was a present; and a "frier" of the Rue de la Grande
Truanderie had given Cadine credit for two sous' worth of potatoes. The
rest of the feast, the pears, the nuts, the shrimps, and the radishes,
had been pilfered from different parts of the market. It was a delicious
treat; and Leon, desirous of returning the hospitality, gave a supper
in his bedroom at one o'clock in the morning. The bill of fare included
cold black-pudding, slices of polony, a piece of salt pork, some
gherkins, and some goose-fat. The Quenu-Gradelles' shop had provided
everything. And matters did not stop there. Dainty suppers alternated
with delicate luncheons, and invitation upon invitation. Three times a
week there were banquets, either amidst the hampers or in Leon's garret,
where Florent, on the nights when he lay awake, could hear a stifled
sound of munching and rippling laughter until day began to break.

The loves of Cadine and Marjolin now took another turn. The youth played
the gallant, and just as another might entertain his _innamorata_ at a
champagne supper _en tete a tete_ in a private room, he led Cadine into
some quiet corner of the market cellars to munch apples or sprigs of
celery. One day he stole a red-herring, which they devoured with immense
enjoyment on the roof of the fish market beside the guttering. There was
not a single shady nook in the whole place where they did not indulge in
secret feasts. The district, with its rows of open shops full of fruit
and cakes and preserves, was no longer a closed paradise, in front of
which they prowled with greedy, covetous appetites. As they passed
the shops they now extended their hands and pilfered a prune, a few
cherries, or a bit of cod. They also provisioned themselves at the
markets, keeping a sharp look-out as they made their way between the
stalls, picking up everything that fell, and o