Pennell, Joseph; Pennell, Joseph: Our sentimental journey through France and Italy (London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1893)

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—There was a scramble; more hands than
could be filled were raised ; his assistant took
down the names of the buyers, and then—the
pedler produced just such another package from
his cart.--
“ Nom de Dieu ! what longness!” he cried, as
he held up a specimen in front of the nearest
woman.
—At this every one laughed.---
“ But, my children ”—vies enfants, that is what he
called them—“ we are not here to amuse ourselves.”
—And so the sale went on. Every article
exhibited was the last of the kind until it was
sold. He knew them in this country here, this
prince of pedlers told them. They did not like to
buy dear.—When we turned away he had just sold
a piece of corduroy—town price, twelve francs ;
pedler’s price, five francs fifty—to an old man who
went off grinning, his prize under his arms.
—The villagers were all talking together, but
above their voices we heard that of the pedler,
loud and reproachful.-
“ Que vous etes bavards ici ! ”
—Reluctantly we returned to work. The wind
was in no friendlier mood, and we rode, as in the
morning, with heads down and thoughts fixed
upon the pedals.—At Briare—you may despatch
it