Nor did the grocery store pay; the few half-pence which were left
there occasionally in exchange for a glass of liquor were pocketed
by Vantrasson, who spent them at some neighboring establishment;
for it is a well-known fact that the wine a man drinks in his own
shop is always bitter in flavor. So, having no credit at the
butcher's or the baker's, Madame Vantrasson was sometimes reduced
to living for days together upon the contents of the shop--mouldy
figs or dry raisins--which she washed down with torrents of
ratafia, her only consolation here below.
But this was not a satisfying diet, as she was forced to confess;
so she decided to find some work, that would furnish her with food
and a little money, which she vowed she would never allow her
worthy husband to see.
"What would you charge per month?" inquired Pascal.
She seemed to reflect, and after a great deal of counting on her
fingers, she finally declared that she would be content with
breakfast and fifteen francs a month, on condition she was allowed
to do the marketing. The first question of French cooks, on
presenting themselves for a situation, is almost invariably,
"Shall I do the marketing?" which of course means, "Shall I have
any opportunities for stealing?" Everybody knows this, and nobody
is astonished at it.
"I shall do the marketing myself," declared Madame Ferailleur,
boldly.
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