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In Gavard's opinion, the scraps of meat left on the Emperor's plate were so much political ordure, the putrid remnants of all the filth of the reign. Thenceforth the party at Monsieur Lebigre's looked on Mademoiselle Saget as a creature whom no one could touch except with tongs. She was regarded as some unclean animal that battened upon corruption.
This cut her off from her sources of information; and sometimes she was altogether ignorant of what was happening. She shed tears of rage, and in one such moment of anger she bluntly said to La Sarriette and Madame Lecoeur: "You needn't give me any more hints: I'll settle your Gavard's hash for him now that I will!" The two women were rather startled, but refrained from all protestation.
Whenever he lost his temper over some disappointing sketch he came to spend whole hours in the idiot's company, never speaking, but striving to catch his expression when he laughed. "He'll be feeding his pigeons, I dare say," he said; "but unfortunately I don't know whereabouts Monsieur Gavard's storeroom is." They groped about the cellar.
One of Gavard's greatest delights was to shut himself up with a friend, and show him all these compromising things. "He told me that I was to burn all the papers," said La Sarriette. "Oh, nonsense! we've no fire, and it would take up too long. The police will soon be here! We must get out of this!"
She saw the shadow of Gavard's revolver, a huge silhouette with pointed muzzle showing very blackly against the glimmering window. It kept appearing and disappearing so rapidly that it seemed as though the room was full of revolvers. Those were the firearms of which Mademoiselle Saget had spoken to Madame Quenu.
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