"No, indeed! I've given up dealing with them," said she. "I wouldn't buy
a bit of black-pudding from them now on any account. They had a dead man
in their kitchen, you know."

Quenu wept with vexation. The story of Gradelle's death in the kitchen
was clearly getting about; and his nephew began to blush before his
customers when he saw them sniffing his wares too closely. So, of his
own accord, he spoke to his wife of her proposal to take a new shop.
Lisa, without saying anything, had already been looking out for other
premises, and had found some, admirably situated, only a few yards
away, in the Rue Rambuteau. The immediate neighbourhood of the central
markets, which were being opened just opposite, would triple their
business, and make their shop known all over Paris.

Quenu allowed himself to be drawn into a lavish expenditure of money; he
laid out over thirty thousand francs in marble, glass, and gilding.
Lisa spent hours with the workmen, giving her views about the slightest
details. When she was at last installed behind the counter, customers
arrived in a perfect procession, merely for the sake of examining the
shop. The inside walls were lined from top to bottom with white marble.
The ceiling was covered with a huge square mirror, framed by a broad
gilded cornice, richly ornamented, whilst from the centre hung a crystal
chandelier with four branches. And behind the counter, and on the left,
and at the far end of the shop were other mirrors, fitted between the
marble panels and looking like doors opening into an infinite series
of brightly lighted halls, where all sorts of appetising edibles were
displayed. The huge counter on the right hand was considered a very fine
piece of work. At intervals along the front were lozenge-shaped panels
of pinky marble. The flooring was of tiles, alternately white and pink,
with a deep red fretting as border. The whole neighbourhood was proud