nder these markets than I ever imagined.
But I must make haste now and get home again. They'll wonder what has
become of me at the shop. If Monsieur Gavard comes back, tell him that I
want to speak to him immediately."

"I expect he's in the killing-room," said Marjolin. "We'll go and see,
if you like."

Lisa made no reply. She felt oppressed by the close atmosphere which
warmed her face. She was quite flushed, and her bodice, generally so
still and lifeless, began to heave. Moreover, the sound of Marjolin's
hurrying steps behind her filled her with an uneasy feeling. At last she
stepped aside, and let him go on in front. The lanes of this underground
village were still fast asleep. Lisa noticed that her companion was
taking the longest way. When they came out in front of the railway track
he told her that he had wished to show it to her; and they stood for a
moment or two looking through the chinks in the hoarding of heavy beams.
Then Marjolin proposed to take her on to the line; but she refused,
saying that it was not worth while, as she could see things well enough
where she was.

As they returned to the poultry cellars they found old Madame Palette in
front of her storeroom, removing the cords of a large square hamper, in
which a furious fluttering of wings and scraping of feet could be heard.
As she unfastened the last knot the lid suddenly flew open, as though
shot up by a spring, and some big geese thrust out their heads and
necks. Then, in wild alarm, they sprang from their prison and rushed
away, craning their necks, and filling the dark cellars with a frightful
noise of hissing and clattering of beaks. Lisa could not help laughing,
in spite of the lamentations of the old woman, who swore like a carter
as she caught hold of two of the absconding birds and dragged them back
by the neck. Marjolin, meantime, set off in pursuit of a third. They
could hear him running along the narrow alleys, hunting for the runaway,
and delighting in the chase. Then, far off in the distance, they heard
the sounds of a struggle, and presently Marjolin came back again,
bringing the goose with him. Mother Palette, a sallow-faced old woman,
took it in her arms and clasped it for a moment to her bosom, in the
classic attitude of Leda.

"Well, well, I'm sure I don't know what I should have done if you hadn't
been here," said she. "The other day I had a regular fight with one of
the brutes; but I had my knife with me, and I cut its th