So Isidore remained alone in the store, which was growing dark. He sat
down on a chair, excited by the wine and by pride, and looked about him.
Carrots, cabbages, and onions gave out their strong odor of vegetables in
the closed room, that coarse smell of the garden blended with the sweet,
penetrating odor of strawberries and the delicate, slight, evanescent
fragrance of a basket of peaches.

The "Rosier" took one of these and ate it, although he was as full as an
egg. Then, all at once, wild with joy, he began to dance about the store,
and something rattled in his waistcoat.

He was surprised, and put his hand in his pocket and brought out the
purse containing the five hundred francs, which he had forgotten in his
agitation. Five hundred francs! What a fortune! He poured the gold pieces
out on the counter and spread them out with his big hand with a slow,
caressing touch so as to see them all at the same time. There were
twenty-five, twenty-five round gold pieces, all gold! They glistened on
the wood in the dim light and he counted them over and over, one by one.
Then he put them back in the purse, which he replaced in his pocket.

Who will ever know or who can tell what a terrible conflict took place in
the soul of the "Rosier" between good and evil, the tumultuous attack of
Satan, his artifices, the temptations which he offered to this timid
virgin heart? What suggestions, what imaginations, what desires were not
invented by the evil one to excite and destroy this chosen one? He seized
his hat, Mme. Husson's saint, his hat, which still bore the little bunch
of orange blossoms, and going out through the alley at the back of the
house, he disappeared in the darkness.