The Belly of Paris - Emile Zola [52]
If Lisa leaned over a little at her counter, she could see the fish woman working in the pavilion across the way amid salmons and turbots. Each kept an eye on the other. Beautiful Lisa tightened the laces on her corset and the Beautiful Norman responded by adding more rings to her fingers and bows to her shoulders. Whenever they saw each other, they were very sweet, very flattering, while their eyes darted from under lowered lids, searching for defects. They were always very attentive to each other and professed the greatest affection.
“Tell me, is it tomorrow that you make the boudin?” asked the Norman in a merry voice.
Lisa remained icy. She did not often get angry, but when she did, her anger stubbornly remained. She responded, “Yes,” in a cold voice, barely moving her lips.
“It's just that, you know, I love boudin hot out of the pot. I'll come back.”
She was aware of the icy reception by her rival. She looked at Florent, who seemed to interest her, and then, not wanting to leave without having the last word, she unwisely added, “I bought some of your boudins the day before yesterday. They weren't very fresh.”
“Not fresh!” Lisa repeated, her face turned white and lips trembling.
Up until that point Lisa might have kept her composure lest the Norman get the idea that it was the lace bow to which she was reacting But now not only was she being spied on but she was also being insulted, and that was going too far. Arching her back and planting her fists on the counter, she let loose in a harsh voice, “You don't say. Remember last week when you sold that pair of soles, did I go saying in front of everyone that they were spoiled?”
“Spoiled? My soles spoiled?” shouted the fish woman, her face turning purple.
For a moment they stood breathless, mute and infuriated beneath the meat rack. All the loveliness of their friendship had evaporated. It had taken only one word to reveal the sharp teeth hidden behind the smile.
“You are a crude and vulgar woman,” said the Beautiful Norman. “See if I ever set foot in here again.”
“Get out then, get out!” said Beautiful Lisa. “Everyone knows about you.”
The fish woman parted with a vulgar word that left the charcuterie woman's entire body shaking. The scene had unfolded so quickly that the three astonished men had not had time to intervene. Lisa quickly regained her composure. As Augustine, the shopgirl, was returning from her errands, Lisa took up the conversation where it had left off without making the slightest reference to what had just taken place. Pulling Gavard to the side, she told him not to give Verlaque a final answer. She would make it her mission to make up her brother-in-law's mind, for which she would need, at most, two days.
Quenu came back to the kitchen just as Gavard was taking Florent for a vermouth at Monsieur Lebigre's. He pointed out three women in the covered street between the fish and the poultry pavilions.
“They're gossping away,” Gavard muttered in a voice that was full of envy.
Les Halles was slowly clearing out, and there stood Mademoiselle Saget, Madame Lecœur, and La Sarriette at the edge of the walk. The old woman was spouting, “Just like I told you, Madame Lecœur, they always have your brother-in-law in the shop. You saw him there yourself, didn't you?”
“With my own two eyes! He was seated at a table and looked completely at home.”
“Personally,” La Sarriette interrupted, “I didn't hear anything bad. I don't know why you're making such a fuss about it.”
Mademoiselle Saget shrugged. “Oh well, you're still an innocent, my dear. Can't you see why the Quenus are always enticing Monsieur Gavard to their shop? What do you want to bet he'll leave everything he has to little Pauline?”
“Do you think