tter with a blow of her fist, considering it an insult. In
the main she was a good woman, with a high-colored face, and a foulard
tied over her cap, who mastered with bugle voice the wagoners when they
brought the merchandise; such squabbles usually ending in a bottle
of the "right sort." She had no disputes with the agriculturists who
consigned her the fruit, for they corresponded in ready money,--the only
possible method of communication, to receive which Mere Madou paid them
a visit in the fine season of the year.

Birotteau found this shrewish trader among sacks of filberts, nuts, and
chestnuts.

"Good-morning, my dear lady," said Birotteau with a jaunty air.

"_Your_ dear!" she said. "Hey! my son, what's there agreeable between
us? Did we ever mount guard over kings and queens together?"

"I am a perfumer, and what is more I am deputy-mayor of the second
arrondissement; thus, as magistrate and as customer, I request you to
take another tone with me."

"I marry when I please," said the virago. "I don't trouble the mayor, or
bother his deputies. As for my customers, they adore me, and I talk to
'em as I choose. If they don't like it, they can snake off elsewhere."

"This is the result of monopoly," thought Birotteau.

"Popole!--that's my godson,--he must have got into mischief. Have you
come about him, my worthy magistrate?" she said, softening her voice.

"No; I had the honor to tell you that I came as a customer."

"Well, well! and what's your name, my lad? Haven't seen you about
before, have I?"

"If you take that tone, you ought to sell your nuts cheap," said
Birotteau, who proceeded to give his name and all his distinctions.

"Ha! you're the Birotteau that's got the handsome wife. And how many of
the sweet little nuts may you want, my love?"

"Six thousand weight."

"That's all I have," said the seller, in a voice like a hoarse flute.
"My dear monsieur, you are not one of the sluggards who waste their time
on girls and perfumes. God bless you, you've got something to do! Excuse
me a bit. You'll be a jolly customer, dear to the heart of the woman I
love best in the world."

"Who is that?"

"Hey! the dear Madame Madou."

"What's the price of your nuts?"

"For you, old fellow, twenty-five francs a hundred, if you take them
all."

"Twenty-five francs!" cried Birotteau. "Fifteen hundred francs! I shall
want perhaps a hundred thousand a year."

"But just look how fine they are; fresh as a daisy