nds and clung to the tables, against
which, as he was dragged along, he struck with a noise like breaking
furniture.

As Germinie turned her head she spied Jupillon: he was sitting between
two women at a green table in a window-recess, smoking. One of the two
was a tall blonde with a small quantity of frizzled flaxen hair, a flat,
stupid face and round eyes. A red flannel chemise lay in folds on her
back, and she had both hands in the pockets of a black apron which she
was flapping up and down on her dark red skirt. The other, a short, dark
creature, whose face was still red from having been scrubbed with soap,
was enveloped as to her head, with the coquetry of a fishwoman, in a
white knitted hood with a blue border.

Jupillon had recognized Germinie. When he saw her rise and approach him,
with her eyes fixed upon his face, he whispered something to the woman
in the hood, rested his elbows defiantly on the table and waited.

"Hallo! you here," he exclaimed when Germinie stood before him, erect,
motionless and mute. "This is a surprise!--Waiter! another bowl!"

And, emptying the bowl of sweetened wine into the two women's glasses,
he continued: "Come, don't make up faces--sit down there."

And, as Germinie did not budge: "Go on! These ladies are friends of
mine--ask them!"

"Melie," said the woman in the hood to the other woman, in a voice like
a diseased crow's, "don't you see? She's monsieur's mother. Make room
for the lady if she'd like to drink with us."

Germinie cast a murderous glance at the woman.

"Well! what's the matter?" the woman continued; "that don't suit you,
madame, eh? Excuse me! you ought to have told me beforehand. How old do
you suppose she is, Melie, eh? _Sapristi!_ You select young ones, my
boy, you don't put yourself out!"

Jupillon smiled internally, and simpered and sneered externally. His
whole manner displayed the cowardly delight that evil-minded persons
take in watching the suffering of those who suffer because of loving
them.

"I have something to say to you--to you!--not here--outside," said
Germinie.

"Much joy to you! Coming, Melie?" said the woman in the hood, lighting
the stub of a cigar that Jupillon had left on the table beside a piece
of lemon.

"What do you want?" said Jupillon, impressed, in spite of himself, by
Germinie's tone.

"Come!"

And she walked on ahead of him. As she passed, the people crowded about
her, laughing. She heard voices, broken sentences, su