The affair was becoming tragical.  Of course beautiful Lisa was now out of the question, but for this they found ample consolation in prophesying that Florent would bring about some frightful catastrophe.  It was quite clear, they said, that he had got some base design in his head.  When people like him escaped from gaol it was only to burn everything down; and if he had come to the markets it must assuredly be for some abominable purpose.  Then they began to indulge in the wildest suppositions.  The two dealers declared that they would put additional padlocks to the doors of their storerooms; and La Sarriette called to mind that a basket of peaches had been stolen from her during the previous week.  Mademoiselle Saget, however, quite frightened the two others by informing them that that was not the way in which the Reds behaved; they despised such trifles as baskets of peaches; their plan was to band themselves together in companies of two or three hundred, kill everybody they came across, and then plunder and pillage at their ease.  That was “politics,” she said, with the superior air of one who knew what she was talking about.  Madame Lecoeur felt quite ill.  She already saw Florent and his accomplices hiding in the cellars, and rushing out during the night to set the markets in flames and sack Paris.

“Ah! by the way,” suddenly exclaimed the old maid, “now I think of it, there’s all that money of old Gradelle’s!  Dear me, dear me, those Quenus can’t be at all at their ease!”

She now looked quite gay again.  The conversation took a fresh turn, and the others fell foul of the Quenus when Mademoiselle Saget had told them the history of the treasure discovered in the salting-tub, with every particular of which she was acquainted.  She was even able to inform them of the exact amount of the money found—­eighty-five thousand francs—­though neither Lisa nor Quenu was aware of having revealed this to a living soul.  However, it was clear that the Quenus had not given the great lanky fellow his share.  He was too shabbily dressed for that.  Perhaps he had never even heard of the discovery of the treasure.  Plainly enough, they were all thieves in his family.  Then the three women bent their heads together and spoke in lower tones.  They were unanimously of opinion that it might perhaps be dangerous to attack the beautiful Lisa, but it was decidedly necessary that they should settle the Red Republican’s hash, so that he might no longer prey upon the purse of poor Monsieur Gavard.

At the mention of Gavard there came a pause.  The gossips looked at each other with a circumspect air.  And then, as they drew breath, they inhaled the odour of the Camemberts, whose gamy scent had overpowered the less penetrating emanations of the Marolles and the Limbourgs, and spread around with remarkable power.  Every now and then, however, a slight whiff, a flutelike note, came from the Parmesan, while the Bries contributed a soft, musty scent, the gentle, insipid sound, as it were, of damp tambourines.  Next followed an overpowering refrain from the Livarots, and afterwards the Gerome, flavoured with aniseed, kept up the symphony with a high prolonged note, like that of a vocalist during a pause in the accompaniment.