Then, on Claude’s left, the beautiful Lisa blocked up the doorway of her shop as she stood on the threshold.  Never before had her linen shone with such dazzling whiteness; never had her serene face and rosy cheeks appeared in a more lustrous setting of glossy locks.  She displayed the deep calmness of repletion, a massive tranquillity unruffled even by a smile.  She was a picture of absolute quietude, of perfect felicity, not only cloudless but lifeless, the simple felicity of basking in the warm atmosphere.  Her tightly stretched bodice seemed to be still digesting the happiness of yesterday; while her dimpled hands, hidden in the folds of her apron, did not even trouble to grasp at the happiness of to-day, certain as they were that it would come of itself.  And the shop-window at her side seemed to display the same felicity.  It had recovered from its former blight; the tongues lolled out, red and healthy; the hams had regained their old chubbiness of form; the festoons of sausages no longer wore that mournful air which had so greatly distressed Quenu.  Hearty laughter, accompanied by a jubilant clattering of pans, sounded from the kitchen in the rear.  The whole place again reeked with fat health.  The flitches of bacon and the sides of pork that hung against the marble showed roundly like paunches, triumphant paunches, whilst Lisa, with her imposing breadth of shoulders and dignity of mien, bade the markets good morning with those big eyes of hers which so clearly bespoke a gross feeder.

However, the two women bowed to each other.  Beautiful Madame Lebigre and beautiful Madame Quenu exchanged a friendly salute.

And then Claude, who had certainly forgotten to dine on the previous day, was thrilled with anger at seeing them standing there, looking so healthy and well-to-do with their buxom bosoms; and tightening his sash, he growled in a tone of irritation: 

“What blackguards respectable people are!”