"We must try to find out through Monsieur Bongrand where the influence
comes from," said the notary in a low voice, with a sign to Massin to
keep quiet.
"What are you about, Minoret?" cried a little woman, suddenly
descending upon the group in the middle of which stood the post
master, as tall and round as a tower. "You don't know where Desire is
and there you are, planted on your two legs, gossiping about nothing,
when I thought you on horseback!--Oh, good morning, Messieurs and
Mesdames."
This little woman, thin, pale, and fair, dressed in a gown of white
cotton with pattern of large, chocolate-colored flowers, a cap trimmed
with ribbon and frilled with lace, and wearing a small green shawl on
her flat shoulders, was Minoret's wife, the terror of postilions,
servants, and carters; who kept the accounts and managed the
establishment "with finger and eye" as they say in those parts. Like
the true housekeeper that she was, she wore no ornaments. She did not
give in (to use her own expression) to gew-gaws and trumpery; she held
to the solid and the substantial, and wore, even on Sundays, a black
apron, in the pocket of which she jingled her household keys.
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