tter's homes were happy or the contrary, have told
when and how they washed themselves, what they had for dinner, and
who it was that came to see them. Then she obtained a side view of the
markets, and not a woman could walk along the Rue Rambuteau without
being seen by her; and she could have correctly stated whence the woman
had come and whither she was going, what she had got in her basket,
and, in short, every detail about her, her husband, her clothes, her
children, and her means. "That's Madame Loret, over there; she's giving
her son a fine education; that's Madame Hutin, a poor little woman who's
dreadfully neglected by her husband; that's Mademoiselle Cecile,
the butcher's daughter, a girl that no one will marry because
she's scrofulous." In this way she could have continued jerking out
biographical scraps for days together, deriving extraordinary amusement
from the most trivial, uninteresting incidents. However, as soon as
eight o'clock struck, she only had eyes for the frosted "cabinet" window
on which appeared the black shadows of the coterie of politicians. She
discovered the secession of Charvet and Clemence by missing their bony
silhouettes from the milky transparency. Not an incident occurred in
that room but she sooner or later learnt it by some sudden motion of
those silent arms and heads. She acquired great skill in interpretation,
and could divine the meaning of protruding noses, spreading fingers,
gaping mouths, and shrugging shoulders; and in this way she followed
the progress of the conspiracy step by step, in such wise that she could
have told day by day how matters stood. One evening the terrible outcome
of it all was revealed to her. She saw the shadow of Gavard's revolver,
a huge silhouette with pointed muzzle showing very blackly against the
glimmering window. It kept appearing and disappearing so rapidly that it
seemed as though the room was full of revolvers. Those were the firearms
of which Mademoiselle Saget had spoken to Madame Quenu. On another
evening she was much puzzled by the sight of endless lengths of some
material or other, and came to the conclusion that the men must be
manufacturing cartridges. The next morning, however, she made her
appearance in the wine shop by eleven o'clock, on the pretext of asking
Rose if she could let her have a candle, and, glancing furtively into
the little sanctum, she espied a heap of red material lying on the
table. This greatly alarmed her, and her n