The Belly of Paris - Emile Zola [171]
Claude shook his fist at them. He was exasperated by all this celebration on the streets and in the sky. He cursed the Fats, for he had to say that the Fats had won. All around him he could see nothing but Fats, growing, bursting with health, saluting a new day of lovely digestion.
When he stopped in front of rue Pirouette, the sight in front of him, to the left and right, was the final blow. On his right was the Beautiful Norman, the Beautiful Madame Lebigre, as she was now known, standing at the doorway of her shop. Her husband had finally managed to merge his wine business with the tobacco shop, a long-nurtured ambition finally realized thanks to important services rendered. Beautiful Madame Lebigre was looking fantastic in her silk dress, her hair curled, ready to take her place behind the counter, where all the neighborhood men came to buy their cigars and pouches of tobacco. She had become very distinguished-looking, quite the lady. Behind her the barroom had been repainted with leaves on the pale wall. The zinc was bright, and the bottles of liquor cast even more sparkling reflections in the mirror. She laughed in the clear morning light.
To his left was Beautiful Lisa at the doorway to the charcuterie, taking up its entire width. Her linens had never been so white. Her rosy cheeks had never been so refreshed or so perfectly framed in smooth waves of hair. She exhibited calm and a splendid poise, an impressive peacefulness that could not be disturbed, even by a smile. This was total tranquillity, complete happiness, lifeless and unshakable, as she bathed in the warm air. Her tightly stretched bodice seemed to be still digesting yesterday's happiness. Her chubby hands, lost in the folds of her apron, were not even outstretched to catch today's happiness, for it was certain to fall into her hands.
Close by, the window display expressed a similar felicity. It too had recovered, and the stuffed tongues were redder and healthier, the jambonneaux were showing their fine yellow faces, the garlands of sausages no longer had the look of despair that had depressed Quenu.
A loud laugh resounded from the kitchen in the back, accompanied by the tintinnabulation of saucepans. The charcuterie was once again ringing with good health, a fatted health. The strips of lard and the half pigs hanging against the marble suggested the roundness of bellies, the belly triumphant, while Lisa, motionless, posed with dignity, offering Les Halles her large, well-fed smile as a morning greeting.
Then both ladies bowed. Beautiful Madame Lebigre and Beautiful Madame Quenu exchanged a friendly salute.
And Claude, who no doubt had forgotten supper the night before, was infuriated by the sight of the two of them looking so prosperous and well, with their huge breasts shoved out in front of them, and he tightened his belt as he muttered in an angry voice, “What bastards respectable people are!”
NOTES ON FOOD AND HISTORY
CHAPTER ONE
1. SENTENCED TO CAYENNE: Cayenne is the capital city, a beat-up, tropical, colonial town, in what is today the Department of French Guiana in northern South America, but the name Cayenne used to refer to the penal colony, which consisted of a number of places on the French Guianese mainland and three offshore islands. Dutch Guiana, across the Maroni River, today the independent nation of Suriname, shares an unguardable border in a still undeveloped rain forest.
2. THE EVENTS OF DECEMBER: On December 2, 1851, Louis-Napoléon Bonaparte staged a successful coup d'état to remain in power beyond his elected term and establish a dictatorship, proclaiming himself Emperor Napoleon III. The date was chosen to mark the forty-sixth anniversary of the victory of his uncle, Napoleon Bonaparte, at the Battle of Austerlitz. Angry people supporting the overthrown republic rose up two days later, on December 4, in Paris and the provinces. They were violently suppressed,