He went on expatiating at length in his faint cold voice respecting the
rival claims of the two Prefectures. Florent, however, was paying but
little heed, his attention being concentrated on a female clerk sitting
on one of the high chairs just in front of him. She was a tall, dark
woman of thirty, with big black eyes and an easy calmness of manner, and
she wrote with outstretched fingers like a girl who had been taught the
regulation method of the art.

However, Florent's attention was diverted by the yelping of the crier,
who was just offering a magnificent turbot for sale.

"I've a bid of thirty francs! Thirty francs, now; thirty francs!"

He repeated these words in all sorts of keys, running up and down a
strange scale of notes full of sudden changes. Humpbacked and with his
face twisted askew, and his hair rough and disorderly, he wore a great
blue apron with a bib; and with flaming eyes and outstretched arms he
cried vociferously: "Thirty-one! thirty-two! thirty-three! Thirty-three
francs fifty centimes! thirty-three fifty!"

Then he paused to take breath, turning the basket-tray and pushing it
farther upon the table. The fish-wives bent forward and gently touched
the turbot with their finger-tips. Then the crier began again with
renewed energy, hurling his figures towards the buyers with a wave
of the hand and catching the slightest indication of a fresh bid--the
raising of a finger, a twist of the eyebrows, a pouting of the lips, a
wink, and all with such rapidity and such a ceaseless jumble of words
that Florent, utterly unable to follow him, felt quite disconcerted
when, in a sing-song voice like that of a priest intoning the final