Chapter XXIIHe loved the market. A great part of it was close-packed and crowded into several side streets and it was so concentrated that it was difficult not to jostle people, unintentionally, and each time you stopped to look, to buy, or to admire, you formed an îlot de résistance against the flow of the morning attack of the purchasers.
The Colonel liked to study the spread and high piled cheeses and the great sausages. People at home think mortadella is a sausage, he thought.
Then he said to the woman in the booth, 'Let me try a little of that sausage, please. Only a sliver.'
She cut a thin, paper thin, slice for him, ferociously and lovingly, and when the Colonel tasted it there was the half smoky, black pepper-corned, true flavour of the meat from the hogs that ate acorns in the
