The beautiful Norman’s idea was to involve him in some quarrel or other.  She had sworn that he would not keep his berth a fortnight.  “That fat Lisa’s much mistaken,” said she one morning on meeting Madame Lecoeur, “if she thinks that she’s going to put people over us.  We don’t want such ugly wretches here.  That sweetheart of hers is a perfect fright!”

After the auctions, when Florent commenced his round of inspection, strolling slowly through the dripping alleys, he could plainly see the beautiful Norman watching him with an impudent smile on her face.  Her stall, which was in the second row on the left, near the fresh water fish department faced the Rue Rambuteau.  She would turn round, however, and never take her eyes off her victim whilst making fun of him with her neighbours.  And when he passed in front of her, slowly examining the slabs, she feigned hilarious merriment, slapped her fish with her hand, and turned her jets of water on at full stream, flooding the pathway.  Nevertheless Florent remained perfectly calm.

At last, one morning as was bound to happen, war broke out.  As Florent reached La Normande’s stall that day an unbearable stench assailed his nostrils.  On the marble slab, in addition to part of a magnificent salmon, showing its soft roseate flesh, there lay some turbots of creamy whiteness, a few conger-eels pierced with black pins to mark their divisions, several pairs of soles, and some bass and red mullet—­in fact, quite a display of fresh fish.  But in the midst of it, amongst all these fish whose eyes still gleamed and whose gills were of a bright crimson, there lay a huge skate of a ruddy tinge, splotched with dark stains—­superb, indeed, with all its strange colourings.  Unfortunately, it was rotten; its tail was falling off and the ribs of its fins were breaking through the skin.

“You must throw that skate away,” said Florent as he came up.

The beautiful Norman broke into a slight laugh.  Florent raised his eyes and saw her standing before him, with her back against the bronze lamp post which lighted the stalls in her division.  She had mounted upon a box to keep her feet out of the damp, and appeared very tall as he glanced at her.  She looked also handsomer than usual, with her hair arranged in little curls, her sly face slightly bent, her lips compressed, and her hands showing somewhat too rosily against her big white apron.  Florent had never before seen her decked with so much jewellery.  She had long pendants in her ears, a chain round her neck, a brooch in her dress body, and quite a collection of rings on two fingers of her left hand and one of her right.

As she still continued to look slyly at Florent, without making any reply, the latter continued:  “Do you hear?  You must remove that skate.”

He had not yet noticed the presence of old Madame Mehudin, who sat all of a heap on a chair in a corner.  She now got up, however, and, with her fists resting on the marble slap, insolently exclaimed:  “Dear me!  And why is she to throw her skate away?  You won’t pay her for it, I’ll bet!”