were not in the giving vein.

[*] The dealers in these scraps are called _bijoutiers_, or
jewellers, whilst the scraps themselves are known as
_harlequins_, the idea being that they are of all colours
and shapes when mingled together, thus suggesting
harlequin's variegated attire.--Translator.

On that particular evening there was only a tall old man standing in
front of the stall. He was sniffing at a plate containing a mixture
of meat and fish. Mademoiselle Saget, in her turn, began to sniff at a
plate of cold fried fish. The price of it was three sous, but, by dint
of bargaining, she got it for two. The cold fish then vanished into the
bag. Other customers now arrived, and with a uniform impulse lowered
their noses over the plates. The smell of the stall was very disgusting,
suggestive alike of greasy dishes and a dirty sink.[*]

[*] Particulars of the strange and repulsive trade in
harlequins, which even nowadays is not extinct, will be
found in Privat d'Anglemont's well-known book _Paris
Anecdote_, written at the very period with which M. Zola
deals in the present work. My father, Henry Vizetelly, also
gave some account of it in his _Glances Back through Seventy
Years_, in a chapter describing the odd ways in which
certain Parisians contrive to get a living.--Translator.

"Come and see me to-morrow," the stallkeeper called out to the old maid,
"and I'll put something nice on one side for you. There's going to be a
grand dinner at the Tuileries to-night."

Mademoiselle Saget was just promising to come, when, happening to turn
round, she discovered Gavard looking at her and listening to what she
was saying. She turned very red, and, contracting her skinny shoulders,
hurried away, affecting not to recognise him. Gavard, however, followed
her for a few yards, shrugging his shoulders and muttering to himself
that he was no longer surprised at the old shrew's malice, now he
knew that "she poisoned herself with the filth carted away from the
Tuileries."

On the very next morning vague rumours began to circulate in the
markets. Madame Lecoeur and La Sarriette were in their own fashion
keeping the oaths of silence they had taken. For her own part,
Mademoiselle Saget warily held her tongue, leaving the two others to
circulate the story of Florent's antecedents. At first only a few meagre
details were hawked about in low tones; then various versions of