languid in the sunlight, discharge their
eggs. Then she wiped her hands on her apron, still smiling the placid
smile of a girl who knew nothing of passion in that quivering atmosphere
of the frigid loves of the river.

The kindliness which Claire showed to Florent was but a slight
consolation to him. By stopping to talk to the girl he only drew upon
himself still coarser jeers from the other stallkeepers. Claire shrugged
her shoulders, and said that her mother was an old jade, and her sister
a worthless creature. The injustice of the market folk towards the new
inspector filled her with indignation. The war between them, however,
grew more bitter every day. Florent had serious thoughts of resigning
his post; indeed, he would not have retained it for another twenty-four
hours if he had not been afraid that Lisa might imagine him to be a
coward. He was frightened of what she might say and what she might
think. She was naturally well aware of the contest which was going on
between the fish-wives and their inspector; for the whole echoing market
resounded with it, and the entire neighbourhood discussed each fresh
incident with endless comments.

"Ah, well," Lisa would often say in the evening, after dinner, "I'd soon
bring them to reason if I had anything to do with them! Why, they are a
lot of dirty jades that I wouldn't touch with the tip of my finger! That
Normande is the lowest of the low! I'd soon crush her, that I would! You
should really use your authority, Florent. You are wrong to behave as
you do. Put your foot down, and they'll all come to their senses very
quickly, you'll see."

A terrible climax was presently reached. One morning the servant of
Madame Taboureau, the baker, came to the market to buy a brill; and
the beautiful Norman, having noticed her lingering near her stall for
several minutes, began to make overtures to her in a coaxing way: "Come
and see me; I'll suit you," she said. "Would you like a pair of soles,
or a fine turbot?"

Then as the servant at last came up, and sniffed at a brill with that
dissatisfied pout which buyers assume in the hope of getting what they
want at a lower price, La Normande continued:

"Just feel the weight of that, now," and so saying she laid the brill,
wrapped in a sheet of thick yellow paper, on the woman's open palm.

The servant, a mournful little woman from Auvergne, felt the weight of
the brill, and examined its gills, still pouting, and saying not a word.