Denise was so menaced amid this general clearance, that she lived in constant expectation of a catastrophe. It was in vain that she summoned up her courage, struggling with all her gaiety and all her reason in the endeavour not to yield to the misgivings of her tender nature; she burst into blinding tears as soon as she had closed the door of her bedroom, in desolation at the thought of finding herself in the street, on bad terms with her uncle, not knowing where to go, without a copper saved, and with the two children to look after. The sensations she had experienced during the first few weeks again returned, she fancied herself a grain of seed under a powerful millstone; and utter discouragement came over her at the thought of what a small atom she was in this great machine, which would certainly crush her with its quiet indifference. There was no illusion possible; if they dismissed any one from her department it would certainly be herself. During the Rambouillet excursion no doubt the other young ladies had incensed Madame Aurélie against her, for since then that lady had treated her with an air of severity into which entered a certain rancour. Besides, they could not forgive her for going to Joinville, regarding it as a sign of revolt, a means of setting the whole department at defiance, by exhibiting herself out of doors with a young lady from a rival counter. Never had Denise suffered so much in the department, and she now gave up all hope of conquering it. "Let them alone!" repeated Pauline, "a lot of stuck-up things, as stupid as geese!" But it was just these fine-lady airs which intimidated Denise. Nearly all the saleswomen, by their daily contact with rich customers, acquired certain graces, and finished by forming a vague nameless class--something between a work-girl and a middle-class lady. But beneath their art in dress, and the manners and phrases they had learnt by rote, there was often only a false, superficial education, the fruit of reading worthless papers, attending cheap theatres and music-halls, and picking up all the current stupidities of Paris. "You know the 'unkempt one' has got a child?" said Clara one morning, on arriving in the department. And, as the others seemed astonished, she continued: "Yes, I saw her yesterday myself taking the child out for a walk! She's got it stowed away in the neighbourhood, somewhere." Two days later, Marguerite came up after dinner with another piece of news. "A nice thing, I've just seen the unkempt one's sweetheart--a workman, just fancy! Yes, a dirty little workman, with yellow hair, who was watching her through the windows."