Cramoisin continued to argue with her its merits; she accorded it a grunt, then a shake of the head, and finally said:
"Well, yes; it may do. We can try."
"It's agreed, then. We must excite her suspicions,—but nothing definite."
"What, are you going to give me instructions!" la Mère Corniche cried irately. "As though I couldn't handle a woman!"
"Touch hands, then; it's agreed?"
"Yes."
"You must speak the first word," he said hurriedly. "It will be better." Shutting off a reply, he departed, leaving the concierge scowling and angry.
"Oui dà, I'll speak the first word, old schemer. He doesn't want the woman to lay it to him, the toad!"
The next morning, as Nicole was leaving for the flower-market, la Mère Corniche called to her.