He was surprised that she did not know.
"I never know anything," she said.
"But the quarrel between Schmoll and Marmet is famous.

It ceased only at the death of Marmet.
"The day that poor Marmet was buried, snow was falling.

We were wet and frozen to the bones.

At the grave, in the wind, in the mud, Schmoll read under his umbrella a speech full of jovial cruelty and triumphant pity, which he took afterward to the newspapers in a mourning carriage.

An indiscreet friend let Madame Marmet hear of it, and she fainted.