the faint odour of salmon, the musky perfume of smelts, and the pungent
scent of herrings and skate. Her skirts, too, as she moved about,
exhaled these fishy smells, and she walked as though amidst an
atmosphere redolent of slimy seaweed. With her tall, goddess-like
figure, her purity of form, and transparency of complexion she resembled
some lovely antique marble that had rolled about in the depths of the
sea and had been brought to land in some fisherman's net.

Mademoiselle Saget, however, swore by all her gods that Florent was the
young woman's lover. According to her account, indeed, he courted
both the sisters. She had quarrelled with the beautiful Norman about
a ten-sou dab; and ever since this falling-out she had manifested warm
friendship for handsome Lisa. By this means she hoped the sooner to
arrive at a solution of what she called the Quenus' mystery. Florent
still continued to elude her curiosity, and she told her friends that
she felt like a body without a soul, though she was careful not to
reveal what was troubling her so grievously. A young girl infatuated
with a hopeless passion could not have been in more distress than this
terrible old woman at finding herself unable to solve the mystery of the
Quenus' cousin. She was constantly playing the spy on Florent, following
him about, and watching him, in a burning rage at her failure to satisfy
her rampant curiosity. Now that he had begun to visit the Mehudins she
was for ever haunting the stairs and landings. She soon discovered that
handsome Lisa was much annoyed at Florent visiting "those women," and
accordingly she called at the pork shop every morning with a budget of
information. She went in shrivelled and shrunk by the frosty air, and,
resting her hands on the heating-pan to warm them, remained in front of
the counter buying nothing, but repeating in her shrill voice: "He
was with them again yesterday; he seems to live there now. I heard La
Normande call him 'my dear' on the staircase."