Mademoiselle Saget smiled once more. And when she found herself alone,
and went back towards the Rue Pirouette, she reflected that those three
cackling hussies were not worth a rope to hang them. She was, indeed,
a little afraid that she might have been seen with them, and the idea
somewhat troubled her, for she realised that it would be bad policy to
fall out with the Quenu-Gradelles, who, after all, were well-to-do folks
and much esteemed. So she went a little out of her way on purpose to
call at Taboureau the baker's in the Rue Turbigo--the finest baker's
shop in the whole neighbourhood. Madame Taboureau was not only an
intimate friend of Lisa's, but an accepted authority on every subject.
When it was remarked that "Madame Taboureau had said this," or "Madame
Taboureau had said that," there was no more to be urged. So the old
maid, calling at the baker's under pretence of inquiring at what time
the oven would be hot, as she wished to bring a dish of pears to be
baked, took the opportunity to eulogise Lisa, and lavish praise upon the
sweetness and excellence of her black-puddings. Then, well pleased at
having prepared this moral alibi and delighted at having done what she
could to fan the flames of a quarrel without involving herself in it,
she briskly returned home, feeling much easier in her mind, but
still striving to recall where she had previously seen Madame Quenu's
so-called cousin.

That same evening, after dinner, Florent went out and strolled for some
time in one of the covered ways of the markets. A fine mist was rising,
and a grey sadness, which the gas lights studded as with yellow tears,
hung over the deserted pavilions. For the first time Florent began to
feel that he was in the way, and to recognise the unmannerly fashion in
which he, thin and artless, had tumbled into this world of fat people;
and he frankly admitted to himself that his presence was disturbing