mirable qualities in the eyes of a
tavern-keeper, had none at all as son-in-law to one of the notables of
Soulanges. And yet Pere Socquard had received but few offers for his
daughter. At twenty-two Aglae already rivalled in size and weight Madame
Vermichel, whose agility seemed phenomenal. Sitting behind a counter
increased the adipose tendency which she derived from her father.

"What devil is it that gets into girls?" said Socquard to Rigou.

"Ha!" replied the ex-Benedictine, "of all the devils, that's the one the
Church has most to do with."

Just then Bonnebault came out of the billiard-room with a cue in his
hand, and struck Marie sharply, saying:--

"You've made me miss my stroke; but I'll not miss you, and I'll give it
to you till you muffle that clapper of yours."

Socquard and Rigou, who now thought it wise to interfere, entered the
cafe by the front door, raising such a crowd of flies that the light
from the windows was obscured; the sound was like that of the distant
practising of a drum-corps. After their first excitement was over, the
big flies with the bluish bellies, accompanied by the stinging little
ones, returned to their quarters in the windows, where on three tiers of
planks, the paint of which was indistinguishable under the fly-specks,
were rows of viscous bottles ranged like soldiers.

Marie was crying. To be struck before a rival by the man she loves is
one of those humiliations that no woman can endure, no matter what her
place on the social ladder may be; and the lower that place is, the more
violent is the expression of her wrath. The Tonsard girl took no notice
of Rigou or of Socquard; she flung herself on a bench, in gloomy and
sullen silence, which the ex-monk carefully watched.

"Get a fresh lemon, Aglae," said Pere Socquard, "and go and rinse that
glass yourself."

"You did right to send her away," whispered Rigou, "or she might have
been hurt"; and he glanced significantly at the hand with which Marie
grasped a stool she had caught up to throw at Aglae's head.

"Now, Marie," said Socquard, standing before her, "people don't come
here to fling stools; if you were to break one of my mirrors, the milk
of your cows wouldn't pay for the damage."

"Pere Socquard, your daughter is a reptile; I'm worth a dozen of her,
I'd have you know. If you don't want Bonnebault for a son-in-law, it is
high time for you to tell him to go and play billiards somewhere else;
he's losing a hundred sou