“Do you know, I propose to cheat her out of that big bellows.”
“You must force the bidding.”
“Oh! I am bound to have it! you shall see.”
While Madame Droguet’s party amused themselves by making sport of the two young women, they exchanged pleasant smiles with the farmer’s family; the poor creatures felt a thrill of joy at each article that was adjudged to Honorine, for Poucette, who was standing near them, said:
“That’s for you; that will come back to you; madame is buying all these things to give them to you.”
“How much for this great bellows?” suddenly cried Madame Droguet, with an authoritative air; “it’s the only thing here worthy to go into my house—into my kitchen.”
While Jarnouillard, who saw that the bellows was in demand, consulted with the auctioneer as to the price they should set on it, Poucette ran to her mistress and whispered:
“Don’t buy the bellows, madame; it ain’t good for anything; the clack’s gone, and uncle always meant to burn it up.”
“Very well,” replied Honorine; “but, as Madame Droguet wants it, we must try to make her pay a good price for it.”
“Three francs for the bellows!” cried the auctioneer; and Madame Droguet said at once: