"What do you desire, madame?" asked Mignot, on seeing Madame Marty planted before the cottage. "Here are some Swedish kid gloves at one franc fifteen sous, first quality."
He offered his wares with furious energy, calling the passing customers from the end of his counter, dunning them with his politeness. As she shook her head in refusal he continued: "Tyrolian gloves, one franc five sous. Turin gloves for children, embroidered gloves in all colours."
"No, thanks; I don't want anything," declared Madame Marty.
But feeling that her voice was softening, he attacked her with greater energy than ever, holding the embroidered gloves before her eyes; and she could not resist, she bought a pair. Then, as Madame de Boves looked at her with a smile, she blushed.
"Don't you think me childish—eh?
