of his requirements; it was no longer a virtue, but utter indifference to self, an absolute obliteration of personality.  Even when he recognised that he was being gradually turned out of the house, his mind never for a moment dwelt upon his share in old Gradelle’s fortune, or upon the accounts which Lisa had offered him.  He had already planned out his expenditure for the future; reckoning that with what Madame Verlaque still allowed him to retain of his salary, and the thirty francs a month which a pupil, obtained through La Normande, paid him he would be able to spend eighteen sous on his breakfast and twenty-six sous on his dinner.  This, he thought, would be ample.  And so, at last, taking as his excuse the lessons which he was giving his new pupil, he emboldened himself one morning to pretend that it would be impossible for him in future to come to the house at mealtimes.  He blushed as he gave utterance to this laboriously constructed lie, which had given him so much trouble, and continued apologetically: 

“You mustn’t be offended; the boy only has those hours free.  I can easily get something to eat, you know; and I will come and have a chat with you in the evenings.”

Beautiful Lisa maintained her icy reserve, and this increased Florent’s feeling of trouble.  In order to have no cause for self-reproach she had been unwilling to send him about his business, preferring to wait till he should weary of the situation and go of his own accord.  Now he was going, and it was a good riddance; and she studiously refrained from all show of kindliness for fear it might induce him to remain.  Quenu, however, showed some signs of emotion, and exclaimed:  “Don’t think of putting yourself about; take your meals elsewhere by all means, if it is more convenient.  It isn’t we who are turning you way; you’ll at all events dine with us sometimes on Sundays, eh?”

Florent hurried off.  His heart was very heavy.  When he had gone, the beautiful Lisa did not venture to reproach her husband for his weakness in giving that invitation for Sundays.  She had conquered, and again breathed freely amongst the light oak of her dining-room, where she would have liked to burn some sugar to drive away the odour of perverse leanness which seemed to linger about.  Moreover, she continued to remain on the defensive; and at the end of another week she felt more alarmed than ever.  She only occasionally saw Florent in the evenings, and began to have all sorts of dreadful thoughts, imagining that her brother-in-law was constructing some infernal machine upstairs in Augustine’s bedroom, or else making signals which would result in barricades covering the whole neighbourhood.  Gavard, who had become gloomy, merely nodded or shook his head when she spoke to him, and left his stall for days together in Marjolin’s charge.  The beautiful Lisa, however, determined that she would get to the bottom of affairs.  She knew that Florent had obtained a day’s leave, and intended to spend it with Claude Lantier, at Madame Francois’s, at Nanterre.  As he would start in the morning, and remain away till night, she conceived the idea of inviting Gavard to dinner.  He would be sure to talk freely, at table, she thought.  But throughout the morning she was unable to meet the poultry dealer, and so in the afternoon she went back again to the markets.