was gazing at him in triumph; it seemed
to him, indeed, as though the whole neighbourhood had gathered there to
rejoice at his fall.

"What a villainous expression he's got!" said Mademoiselle Saget.

"Yes, indeed, he looks just like a thief caught with his hand in
somebody's till," added Madame Lecoeur.

"I once saw a man guillotined who looked exactly like he does," asserted
La Sarriette, showing her white teeth.

They stepped forward, lengthened their necks, and tried to see into the
cab. Just as it was starting, however, the old maid tugged sharply at
the skirts of her companions, and pointed to Claire, who was coming
round the corner of the Rue Pirouette, looking like a mad creature,
with her hair loose and her nails bleeding. She had at last succeeded
in opening her door. When she discovered that she was too late, and
that Florent was being taken off, she darted after the cab, but checked
herself almost immediately with a gesture of impotent rage, and shook
her fists at the receding wheels. Then, with her face quite crimson
beneath the fine plaster dust with which she was covered, she ran back
again towards the Rue Pirouette.

"Had he promised to marry her, eh?" exclaimed La Sarriette, laughing.
"The silly fool must be quite cracked."

Little by little the neighbourhood calmed down, though throughout the
day groups of people constantly assembled and discussed the events of
the morning. The pork shop was the object of much inquisitive curiosity.
Lisa avoided appearing there, and left the counter in charge of
Augustine. In the afternoon she felt bound to tell Quenu of what had
happened, for fear the news might cause him too great a shock should
he hear it from some gossiping neighbour. She waited till she was alone
with him in the kitchen, knowing that there he was always most cheerful,
and would weep less than if he were anywhere else. Moreover, she
communicated her tidings with all sorts of motherly precautions.
Nevertheless, as soon as he knew the truth he fell on the
chopping-block, and began to cry like a calf.

"Now, now, my poor dear, don't give way like that; you'll make yourself
quite ill," exclaimed Lisa, taking him in her arms.

His tears were inundating his white apron, the whole of his massive,
torpid form quivered with grief. He seemed to be sinking, melting away.
When he was at last able to speak, he stammered: "Oh, you don't know how
good he was to me when we lived together in the Rue Royer-