the
facts got into circulation, incidents were exaggerated, and gradually
quite a legend was constructed, in which Florent played the part of a
perfect bogey man. He had killed ten gendarmes at the barricade in the
Rue Greneta, said some; he had returned to France on a pirate ship whose
crew scoured the seas to murder everyone they came across, said others;
whilst a third set declared that ever since his arrival he had been
observed prowling about at nighttime with suspicious-looking characters,
of whom he was undoubtedly the leader. Soon the imaginative market
women indulged in the highest flights of fancy, revelled in the most
melodramatic ideas. There was talk of a band of smugglers plying their
nefarious calling in the very heart of Paris, and of a vast central
association formed for systematically robbing the stalls in the markets.
Much pity was expressed for the Quenu-Gradelles, mingled with malicious
allusions to their uncle's fortune. That fortune was an endless subject
of discussion. The general opinion was that Florent had returned
to claim his share of the treasure; however, as no good reason was
forthcoming to explain why the division had not taken place already, it
was asserted that Florent was waiting for some opportunity which
might enable him to pocket the whole amount. The Quenu-Gradelles would
certainly be found murdered some morning, it was said; and a rumour
spread that dreadful quarrels already took place every night between the
two brothers and beautiful Lisa.

When these stories reached the ears of the beautiful Norman, she
shrugged her shoulders and burst out laughing.

"Get away with you!" she cried, "you don't know him. Why, the dear
fellow's as gentle as a lamb."

She had recently refused the hand of Monsieur Lebigre, who had at last
ventured upon a formal proposal. For two months past he had given the
Mehudins a bottle of some liqueur every Sunday. It was Rose who brought
it, and she was always charged with a compliment for La Normande, some
pretty speech which she faithfully repeated, without appearing in the
slightest degree embarrassed by the peculiar commission. When Monsieur
Lebigre was rejected, he did not pine, but to show that he took no
offence and was still hopeful, he sent Rose on the following Sunday with
two bottles of champagne and a large bunch of flowers. She gave them
into the handsome fish-girl's own hands, repeating, as she did so, the
wine dealer's prose madrigal:

"M