The Belly of Paris - Emile Zola [162]
“If she'd had a knife, she would have killed me,” said the Norman, looking for clothes to put on. “You'll see, someday that jealousy of hers will do her in. And nobody can open that door. She'd stir up the whole neighborhood against us.”
Mademoiselle Saget had hurried down the stairs. She arrived at the corner of rue Pirouette just as the inspector was returning to the alley by the Quenu-Gradelles'. She understood what was going on and went into the charcuterie, her eyes glowing with such intensity that Lisa made a sign to be quiet, pointing toward Quenu, who was hanging strips of petit salé. When he returned to the kitchen, the old woman whispered about the drama that had just unfolded at the Méhudins'.
Leaning across the counter, her hand resting on a dish of larded veal, Lisa listened with the happy face of a victorious woman. But then a customer came in to ask for pigs' feet, and she turned to wrap them carefully.
“Personally, I don't wish any harm to the Norman,” she said when they were finally alone again. “I like her very much, and have always felt bad that we've had this falling-out. Here, this is the proof that I'm not vindictive. Look what I rescued from the hands of the police. I'm perfectly willing to return it if she comes and asks for it herself.”
She pulled the portrait from her pocket. Mademoiselle Saget sniffed it and snickered as she read, “From Louise, to her friend Florent,” then, in her sharp-edged voice she said, “That may be a mistake. You should keep that.”
“No, no,” Lisa interrupted. “I want all this foolishness to end. Today's the day of reconciliation. Enough of all this. Let's have a peaceful neighborhood again.”
“So should I tell the Norman that you want to see her?” asked the elderly woman.
“Yes, I'd appreciate that.”
Mademoiselle Saget went back to rue Pirouette, where she alarmed the Norman by telling her she had just seen her portrait in Lisa's pocket. But she was not able to persuade the Norman to do as her rival had asked. The Norman had her conditions: she would go to the charcuterie only if Lisa would come out and meet her at the door. The elderly woman had to make two trips back and forth to settle the conditions for the upcoming encounter. But eventually she had the pleasure of negotiating an accord that was going to make some noise around the neighborhood. As she passed Claire's door one last time, she could still hear the sound of scissors in the plaster.
After having gotten a definitive response from the charcuterie woman, she hurried off to look for Madame Lecœur and La Sarriette. The three planted themselves at the corner of the fish market, opposite the charcuterie. From there they would miss nothing of the encounter. Growing impatient, they pretended to chat among themselves, watching rue Pirouette, where the Norman was expected to be coming out. Throughout Les Halles, gossip about the meeting was already circulating. The women, standing stiffly in their stalls, craned their necks in order to see. Others, more curious, left their places and took positions along the covered street. Every eye in Les Halles was turned toward the charcuterie. The neighborhood had been alerted.
It was a solemn moment. When the Norman finally emerged on rue Pirouette, no one was breathing.
“She has her diamonds on,” La Sarriette murmured.
“Look at the way she's walking,” added Madame Lecœur. “She's too aggressive.”
The truth was that the Beautiful Norman walked like a queen who deigned to accept an offer of peace. She had primped carefully, with her hair all in curls and the corners of her apron turned up to show the cashmere skirt underneath; she even wore a lace bow of stunning lavishness. Feeling the eyes of Les Halles on her, she thrust her chest out and marched up to the charcuterie, stopping in front of the door. “Now it's Beautiful Lisa's turn,” said Mademoiselle Saget, watching closely.
Smiling