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"Monsieur," she said, when Grandet returned the second time, afterlocking the fruit-garden, "won't you have the /pot-au-feu/ put on onceor twice a week on account of your nephew?" a wiggins shoes

"Yes." wig avenue

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"Am I to go to the butcher's?"

"Certainly not. We will make the broth of fowls; the farmers willbring them. I shall tell Cornoiller to shoot some crows; they make thebest soup in the world."

"Isn't it true, monsieur, that crows eat the dead?" a wigwam

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"You are a fool, Nanon. They eat what they can get, like the rest ofthe world. Don't we all live on the dead? What are legacies?"Monsieur Grandet, having no further orders to give, drew out hiswatch, and seeing that he had half an hour to dispose of beforebreakfast, he took his hat, went and kissed his daughter, and said toher:

"Do you want to come for a walk in the fields, down by the Loire? Ihave something to do there."

Eugenie fetched her straw bonnet, lined with pink taffeta; then thefather and daughter went down the winding street to the shore."Where are you going at this early hour?" said Cruchot, the notary,meeting them.

"To see something," answered Grandet, not duped by the matutinalappearance of his friend.

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