rder does she stand on?

It was as though it was meant to be a joke; the whole cart-load of them
erupted into uproarious laughter ... except the grinder himself, who
didn't react to the remark. This prompted the baker to turn towards me:

--You don't happen to know his wife do you, monsieur? Just as well;
she's a real queer fish; there can't be another one like her in
Beaucaire.

The increasing laughter left the grinder unmoved except for a whisper,
his eyes still downcast:

--Hush, baker.

But there was no stopping this interfering baker, and he warmed to his
theme:

--He's an idiot! No man of the world would complain about having wife
like that. There's never a dull moment when she's around! Think about
it! A really gorgeous girl, who every six months or so, ups sticks and
runs away, and, believe me, always has a pretty tale to tell when she
gets back ... that's the way it is ... a funny old menagerie, that one.
Work it out, monsieur, they hadn't even been hitched a year when she
breezed off to Spain with a chocolate merchant.

--The husband was inconsolable after that, sitting alone and drinking
and crying all the time like a man possessed. After a while, she
drifted back into the area, dressed like a Spaniard, complete with
tambourine. We all warned her:

--You'd better get lost, he'll kill you.

--Kill her indeed ... Oh yes, I should say so, they made it up
beautifully, she even taught him how to play the tambourine like a
Basque!

Once again the coach rocked with laughter. Once again, the grinder
still didn't budge, just murmured again:

--Hush, baker.

The baker ignored this plea and went on:

--You might think, after her return from Spain, monsieur, the little
beauty would keep herself to herself?. But oh no!... Her husband
accepted the situation again, so easily, it has to be said, that she
was at it again. After Spain, there was an army officer, then a sailor
from the Rhone, then a musician, then ... who knows?... What is
certain, is that, every time, it's the same French farce ... She
leaves, he cries; she comes back, he gets over it. You'd better believe
it, he's a long suffering cuckold that one. But you've got to admit,
she is a real good-looker, the little she-grinder; a piece fit for a
king, full of life, sweet as could be, and a lovely bit of stuff. To
top it all, she has a skin like alabaster and hazel eyes that always
seem to be smiling at men. My word, Paris, if you ever pass throug