cellar-store

Updated: April 30, 2025

The retail price was fixed. Monsieur Guillaume, always on his feet, his pen behind his ear, was like a captain commanding the working of the ship. His sharp tones, spoken through a trap-door, to inquire into the depths of the hold in the cellar-store, gave utterance to the barbarous formulas of trade-jargon, which find expression only in cipher. "How much H. N. Z.?" "All sold."

Honoré de Balzac - At the Sign of the Cat & Racket