next noontide saw the admirable woman in her usual place in the wine-shop, knitting away assiduously. a rose lay beside her, and if she now and then glanced at the flower, it was with no infraction of her usual preoccupied air. there were a few customers, drinking or not drinking, standing or seated, sprinkled about. the day was very hot, and heaps of flies, who were extending their inquisitive and adventurous perquisitions into all the glutinous little glasses near madame, fell dead at the bottom. their decease made no impression on the other flies out promenading, who looked at them in the coolest manner (as if they themselves were elephants, or something as far removed), until they met the same fate. curious to consider how heedless flies are! perhaps they thought as much at court that sunny summer day.