“Three francs ten sous!”
“Four francs!” said Honorine.
“Four francs ten sous!” rejoined the stout dame, who did not choose to bid by centimes.
“Five francs!” said Honorine.
“Well! six francs, sacrebleu!” cried Madame Droguet, her voice trembling with anger.
Honorine made no further bid; but she turned away to laugh with Agathe; for the wretched bellows was not worth fifty centimes.
“I knew well enough that I should get what I wanted, and that I would force that hussy to give way to me!” cried Madame Droguet, as she returned to her friends armed with the bellows, which she handed to her husband, saying:
“Put that under your arm, monsieur, and don’t hold it pointed at my back, or you’ll blow on me.”
Several other pieces of furniture and some mattresses were purchased by Honorine. But the bedding brought better prices, and the young widow was nearing the end of her hundred francs, when a new arrival appeared on the scene, walking among the dishes, leaping over the furniture, heedless of the objurgations of Monsieur Jarnouillard, who exclaimed again and again: “What in the devil is that dog doing here? For heaven’s sake, drive the beast away; he’s disarranging the whole sale; he’ll break something and the stuff is poor enough already!”
Ami, for it was he who had arrived, carried his lack of respect so far as to jump over the heads of Monsieur Jarnouillard and the auctioneer, who were seated at the table which served them for a desk.