could be distinguished, mingled with the sharp sound of wheels on
the cobble-stones. About twelve o'clock, when the market was in
full swing, there appeared at the front door a tall, middle-aged
peasant, with a hooked nose and a cap on the back of his head; it
was Robelin, the farmer of Geffosses. Shortly afterwards came
Liébard, the farmer of Toucques, short, rotund and ruddy, wearing
a grey jacket and spurred boots.

Both men brought their landlady either chickens or cheese.
Félicité would invariably thwart their ruses and they held her in
great respect.

At various times, Madame Aubain received a visit from the Marquis
de Grémanville, one of her uncles, who was ruined and lived at
Falaise on the remainder of his estates. He always came at
dinner-time and brought an ugly poodle with him, whose paws soiled
the furniture. In spite of his efforts to appear a man of breeding
(he even went so far as to raise his hat every time he said "My
deceased father"), his habits got the better of him, and he would
fill his glass a little too often and relate broad stories.
Félicité would show him out very politely and say: "You have had
enough for this time, Monsieur de Grémanville! Hoping to see you
again!" and would close the door.

She opened it gladly for Monsieur Bourais, a retired lawyer. His
bald head and white cravat, the ruffling of his shirt, his flowing
brown coat, the manner in which he took his snuff, his whole
person, in fact, produced in her the kind of awe which we feel
when we see extraordinary persons. As he managed Madame's estates,
he spent hours with her in Monsieur's study; he was in constant