out of a good customer spurred her on.
"I beg your pardon, it's my turn," said Denise, indignantly.
Madame Aurélie set her aside with a severe look, exclaiming: "There are no turns. I alone am mistress here. Wait till you know, before serving our regular customers."
The young girl retired, and as tears were coming to her eyes, and she wished to conceal her sensibility, she turned her back and stood up before the window, pretending to gaze into the street. Were they going to prevent her selling? Would they all conspire to deprive her of the important sales, like that? Fear for the future came over her, she felt herself crushed between so many contending interests. Yielding to the bitterness of her abandonment, her forehead against the cold glass, she gazed at The Old Elbeuf opposite, thinking that she ought to have implored her uncle to keep her. Perhaps he himself regretted his decision, for he had seemed to her greatly affected the previous evening. And now she was quite alone in this vast house, where no one cared for her, where she found herself hurtled, lost. Pépé and Jean, who had never left her side, were living with strangers; she was parted from everything, and the big tears which she strove to keep back made the street dance before her in a sort of fog. All this time, the hum of voices continued behind her.
"This one makes me look a fright," Madame Boutarel was saying.
"You really make a mistake, madame," said Clara; "the shoulders fit perfectly – but perhaps you would prefer a pelisse to a mantle?"
Just then Denise started. A hand was laid on her arm. Madame Aurélie addressed her severely:
"Well, you're doing nothing now, eh? only looking at the people passing? Things can't go on like this, you know!"
"But since I'm not allowed to sell, madame?"
"Oh, there's other work for you, mademoiselle! Begin at the beginning. Do the folding-up."
In order to please the few customers who had called, they had already been obliged to ransack the cupboards, and on the two long oaken tables, to the right and left, lay heaps of mantles, pelisses, and capes, garments of all sizes and materials. Without replying, Denise began to sort and fold them carefully and arrange them again in the cupboards. This was the lowest work, generally performed by beginners. She ceased to protest, however, knowing that they required the strictest obedience, and prepared to wait until the first-hand should be good enough to let her sell, as she seemed at first to have the intention of doing. She was still folding, when Mouret appeared upon the scene. To her his arrival came as a shock, she blushed without knowing why, and again seized by a strange fear, thinking that he was going to speak to her. But he did not even see her; he no longer remembered the little girl whom a momentary impression had induced him to support.
"Madame Aurélie," he called curtly.
He was rather pale, but his eyes were clear and resolute. In making the tour of the departments he had found them empty, and the possibility of defeat had suddenly presented itself before him amidst all his obstinate faith in fortune. True, it was only eleven o'clock; he knew by experience that as a rule the crowd never arrived much before the afternoon. But certain symptoms troubled him. On the inaugural days of previous sales a general movement had manifested itself even in the morning; besides, he did not see any of those bareheaded women, customers living in the neighbourhood, who usually dropped into his shop as into a neighbour's. Despite his habitual resolution, like all great captains, he felt at the moment of giving battle a superstitious weakness growing on him. Things would not succeed, he was lost, and he could not have explained why; yet he thought he could read his defeat on the faces of the passing ladies. Just at that moment, Madame Boutarel, she who always bought something, turned away, explaining, "No, you have nothing that pleases me. I'll see, I'll decide later on."
Mouret watched her depart. Then, as Madame Aurélie ran up at his call, he took her aside, and they exchanged a few rapid words. She waved her hands despairingly and was evidently admitting that things were bad. For a moment they remained face to face, overcome by one of those doubts which generals conceal from their soldiers. But at last, in his brave way, he exclaimed aloud: "If you want any assistance, take a girl from the workroom. She'll be a little help to you."
Then he continued his inspection, in despair. He had avoided Bourdoncle all the morning, for his assistant's anxious doubts irritated him. However, on leaving the under-linen department, where business was still worse than in the mantle gallery, he suddenly came upon him, and was obliged to listen to the expression of his fears. Still he did not hesitate to send him to the devil, with the brutality which he did not spare even his principal employees when things were looking bad.
"Do keep quiet!" said he, "Everything is going on all right. I shall end by pitching the tremblers out of doors."
Then, alone and erect, he took his stand on the landing overlooking the central hall, whence he commanded a view of almost the entire shop; around him were the first-floor departments; beneath him those of the ground-floor. Up above, the emptiness seemed heart-breaking; in the lace department an old woman was having every box searched and yet buying nothing; whilst three good-for-nothing minxes in the under-linen department were slowly choosing some collars at eighteen sous a-piece. Down below, in the covered galleries, in the rays of light which come in from the street, he noticed that customers were gradually becoming more numerous. There was a slow, intermittent procession wending its way past the counters; in the mercery and the haberdashery departments some women of the commoner class were pushing about, still there was hardly a soul among the linens or the woollens. The shop messengers, in their green swallow-tails with bright brass buttons, were waiting for customers with dangling hands. Now and again there passed an inspector with a ceremonious air, very stiff in his white choker. And Mouret was especially grieved by the mortal silence which reigned in the hall, where the light fell from a ground-glass roofing through which the sunrays filtered in a white diffuse hovering dust, whilst down below the silk department seemed to be asleep, in a quivering, church-like quietude. A shopman's footstep, a few whispered words, the rustling of a passing skirt, were the only faint sounds; and these the warm air of the heating apparatus almost stifled. However, carriages were beginning to arrive, the sudden pulling up of the horses was heard, followed by the banging of the doors of the vehicles. Outside, a distant tumult was commencing to rise, inquisitive folks were jostling in front of the windows, cabs were taking up their positions on the Place Gaillon, there were all the appearances of a crowd's approach. Still on seeing the idle cashiers leaning back on their chairs behind their wickets, and observing that the parcel-tables with their boxes of string and reams of blue packing-paper remained unlittered, Mouret, though indignant with himself for being afraid, thought he could feel his immense machine ceasing to work and turning cold beneath him.
"I say, Favier," murmured Hutin, "look at the governor up there. He doesn't seem to be enjoying himself."
"Oh! this is a rotten shop!" replied Favier. "Just fancy, I've not sold a thing yet."
Both of them, on the look-out for customers, from time to time whispered such short remarks as these, without looking at each other. The other salesmen of the department were occupied in piling up pieces of the Paris Delight under Robineau's orders; whilst Bouthemont, in full consultation with a thin young woman, seemed to be taking an important order. Around them, on light and elegant shelves, were heaps of plain silks, folded in long pieces of creamy paper, and looking like pamphlets of an unusual size; whilst, encumbering the counters, were fancy silks, moires, satins and velvets, resembling beds of cut flowers, quite a harvest of delicate and precious tissues. This was the most elegant of all the departments, a veritable drawing-room, where the goods, so light and airy, seemed to be simply so much luxurious furnishing.
"I must have a hundred francs by Sunday," said Hutin. "If I don't make an average of twelve francs a day, I'm lost. I reckoned on this sale."
"By Jove! a hundred francs; that's rather stiff," retorted Favier. "I only want fifty or sixty. You must go in for swell jollifications, then?"
"Oh, no, my dear fellow. It's a stupid affair; I made a bet and lost. So I have to stand a dinner for five persons, two fellows and three girls. Hang me! I'll let the first that passes in for twenty yards of Paris Delight!"
They continued talking for a few minutes, relating what they had done on the previous day, and what they intended to do on