iffs of the Neufchatels, the Troyes, and the Mont
d'Ors contributed short, detached notes. And then the different odours
appeared to mingle one with another, the reek of the Limbourgs, the Port
Saluts, the Geromes, the Marolles, the Livarots, and the Pont l'Eveques
uniting in one general, overpowering stench sufficient to provoke
asphyxia. And yet it almost seemed as though it were not the cheeses but
the vile words of Madame Lecoeur and Mademoiselle Saget that diffused
this awful odour.

"I'm very much obliged to you, indeed I am," said the butter dealer. "If
ever I get rich, you shall not find yourself forgotten."

The old maid still lingered in the stall. Taking up a Bondon, she turned
it round, and put it down on the slab again. Then she asked its price.

"To me!" she added, with a smile.

"Oh, nothing to you," replied Madame Lecoeur. "I'll make you a present
of it." And again she exclaimed: "Ah, if I were only rich!"

Mademoiselle Saget thereupon told her that some day or other she would
be rich. The Bondon had already disappeared within the old maid's bag.
And now the butter dealer returned to the cellar, while Mademoiselle
Saget escorted La Sarriette back to her stall. On reaching it they
talked for a moment or two about Monsieur Jules. The fruits around them
diffused a fresh scent of summer.

"It smells much nicer here than at your aunt's," said the old maid. "I
felt quite ill a little time ago. I can't think how she manages to exist
there. But here it's very sweet and pleasant. It makes you look quite
rosy, my dear."

La Sarriette began to laugh, for she was fond of compliments. Then she
served a lady with a pound of mirabelle plums, telling her that they
were as sweet as sugar.

"I should like to buy some of those mirabelles too," murmured
Mademoiselle Saget, when the lady had gone away; "only I want so few. A
lone woman, you know."

"Take a handful of them," exclaimed the pretty brunette. "That won't
ruin me. Send Jules back to me if you see him, will you? You'll most
likely find him smoking his cigar on the first bench to the right as you
turn out of the covered way."

Mademoiselle Saget distended her fingers as widely as possible in order
to take a handful of mirabelles, which joined the Bondon in the bag.
Then she pretended to leave the market, but in reality made a detour by
one of the covered ways, thinking, as she walked slowly along, that the
mirabelles and Bondon would not make a very subs