Then Anatole Kahn stepped forward with a bow.
Very smart he was, wearing a pearl in his necktie,
wearing pale grey trousers with heavy black stripes,
and a flower in the buttonhole of his jacket. He felt
honoured, he said, indescribably honoured by the
presence of so many distinguished clients. As a
stranger to their beautiful town of Saint Loup he
knew himself to be at a real disadvantage, yet he
dared to hope for their patronage on the strength of
his honest and untiring endeavours to deal fairly by
all —five hundred francs or one franc, they would
find it just the same thing when it came to receiving
good value for their money. The most trivial pur-
chase was an honour conferred, and would thus
receive his personal attention.
And now came the strains of the Marseillaise from
a large gramophone at the back of the showroom.
Most stirring it was, they all had to admit; such a
fine record too, a real military band — Boudieu,
one could fancy one saw the men marching! And
that over, came a jolly new popular song, words and
all, from the Folies Bergeres in Paris. Then the ballet
music from Faust — Boudieu, one could almost fancy
one saw the girls dancing! The devil must be in it!
These gramophones . . . Mere Melanie's hump-
backed fiddling friend would undoubtedly have to
look to his laurels!
They jostled and laughed and flicked the balloons
and fingered the stock and examined price labels.
They went down to the cellar which was brilliantly
lighted and contained an assortment of rugs and
mattings. They swarmed up the stairs to the first-
floor showroom where cots and new-fangled peram-
bulators suggestively elbowed double-bedsteads. But
beyond an insignificant trifle or two — a vase, a small
tray and suchlike objects — they apparently had not
come there to buy, in spite of the really surprising
246