But despite all these occurrences which gradually awoke the woman in her, Denise still retained her infantile peace of mind. The one thing that stirred her heart was to meet Hutin. But even this was only gratitude in her eyes; she simply thought herself touched by the young man's politeness. He could not bring a customer to the department without making her feel quite confused. Several times, on returning from a pay-desk, she found herself making a _détour_, and traversing the silk hall though she had no business there, her bosom heaving the while with emotion. One afternoon she met Mouret there and he seemed to follow her with a smile. He paid scarcely any attention to her now, only addressing a few words to her from time to time, to give her a few hints about her toilet, and to joke with her, as an impossible girl, a little savage, almost a boy, whom he would never manage to transform into a coquette, notwithstanding all his knowledge of women. Sometimes indeed he even ventured to laugh at her and tease her, without caring to acknowledge to himself the troublous feeling, the charm which this little saleswoman, with such a comical head of hair, inspired in him. And that afternoon at sight of his mute smile, Denise trembled, as if she were in fault. Did he know why she was crossing the silk department, when she could not herself have explained what had impelled her to make such a _détour_? Hutin, moreover, did not seem to be at all aware of the young girl's grateful looks. The shop-girls were not his style, he affected to despise them, boasting more than ever of his pretended adventures with the lady customers.