Augustine had sold out the locksmith’s shop and the business, and had removed further down the street over a bakery. Out of her window she had hung a sign, “Blanchisseuse de .” Often, in passing by, Mamzelle Fleurette would catch a glimpse of Augustine up at the window, the irons; her sleeves rolled to the elbows, baring her round, white arms, and the little black curls all moist and about her face. It was early spring then, and there was a in the air; an odor of jasmine in every passing breeze; the sky was blue, unfathomable, and fleecy white; and people along the narrow street laughed, and sang, and called to one another from windows and . Augustine had set a pot of rose-geranium on her window sill and hung out a bird cage.  
288Once, Mamzelle Fleurette in passing on her way to heard her singing roulades, with the bird in the cage. Another time she saw the young woman leaning with half her body from the window, exchanging pleasantries with the beneath on the banquette.
 
Still, a little later, Mamzelle Fleurette began to notice a handsome young fellow often passing the store. He was and debonnaire and wore a rich watchchain, and looked prosperous. She knew him quite well as a fine young Gascon, who kept a stall in the French Market, and from whom she had often bought charcuterie. The neighbors told her the young Gascon was paying his addresses to Mme. Lacodie. Mamzelle Fleurette . She wondered if Lacodie knew! The whole situation seemed suddenly to shift its base, causing Mamzelle Fleurette to stagger. What ground would her poor heart and soul have to do battle upon now?
 
She had not yet had time to adjust her conscience to the altered conditions when one Saturday afternoon, as she was about to start out to confession, she noticed an unusual 289movement down the street. The bellhanger, who happened to be presenting himself in the character of a customer, informed her that it was nothing more nor less than Mme. Lacodie returning from her wedding with the Gascon. He was black and bitter with indignation, and thought she might at least have waited for the year to be out. But the charivari was already on foot; and Mamzelle need not feel alarmed if, in the night, she heard sounds and clamor to rouse the dead as far away as Metairie .
 
Mamzelle Fleurette sank down in a chair, trembling in all her members. She faintly begged the bellhanger to pour her a glass of water from the stone behind the counter. She fanned herself and loosened her . She sent the bell away.
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