there of starvation in the very heart of glutted Paris, amidst the
effulgent awakening of her markets. Big hot tears started from his eyes.

Walking on, he had now reached one of the larger alleys. Two women, one
short and old, the other tall and withered, passed him, talking together
as they made their way towards the pavilions.

"So you've come to do your marketing, Mademoiselle Saget?" said the tall
withered woman.

"Well, yes, Madame Lecoeur, if you can give it such a name as marketing.
I'm a lone woman, you know, and live on next to nothing. I should have
liked a small cauliflower, but everything is so dear. How is butter
selling to-day?"

"At thirty-four sous. I have some which is first rate. Will you come and
look at it?"

"Well, I don't know if I shall want any to-day; I've still a little lard
left."

Making a supreme effort, Florent followed these two women. He
recollected having heard Claude name the old one--Mademoiselle
Saget--when they were in the Rue Pirouette; and he made up his mind
to question her when she should have parted from her tall withered
acquaintance.

"And how's your niece?" Mademoiselle Saget now asked.

"Oh, La Sarriette does as she likes," Madame Lecoeur replied in a bitter