She laid out four or five cloaks. Madame Desforges looked at them with a scornful air, and became harsher at each fresh one that she examined. What was the reason of those pleats which made the garment look so scanty? And that other one, square across the shoulders, why, you might have thought it had been cut out with a hatchet! Though people went travelling they could not dress like sentry-boxes! "Show me something else, mademoiselle." Denise unfolded and refolded the garments without the slightest sign of ill temper. And it was just this calm, serene patience which exasperated Madame Desforges the more. Her glances continually returned to the glass in front of her. Now that she saw herself there, close to Denise she ventured on a comparison. Was it possible that he should prefer that insignificant creature to herself? She now remembered that this was the girl whom she had formerly seen cutting such a silly figure at the time of her début--as clumsy as any peasant wench freshly arrived from her village. No doubt she looked better now, stiff and correct in her silk gown. But how puny, how common-place she was! "I will show you some other patterns, madame," said Denise, quietly. When she returned, the scene began again. Then it was the cloth that was too heavy or of no good whatever. And Madame Desforges turned round, raising her voice, and endeavouring to attract Madame Aurélie's attention, in the hope of getting the girl a scolding. But Denise, since her return, had gradually conquered the department, and now felt quite at home in it; the first-hand had even recognised that she possessed some rare and valuable qualities as a saleswoman--a stubborn sweetness, a smiling force of conviction. And thus when Madame Aurélie heard Madame Desforges she simply shrugged her shoulders, taking care not to interfere. "Would you kindly tell me the kind of garment you require, madame?" asked Denise, once more, with her polite persistence, which nothing could discourage. "But you've got nothing!" exclaimed Madame Desforges. She stopped short, surprised to feel a hand laid on her shoulder. It was the hand of Madame Marty, who was being carried through the establishment by her fever for spending. Since the cravats, the embroidered gloves, and the red parasol, her purchases had increased to such an extent that the last salesman had just decided to place them all on a chair, as to have carried them on his arm, might have broken it; and he walked in front of her, drawing along the chair, upon which petticoats, napkins, curtains, a lamp, and three straw hats were heaped together. "Ah!" said she, "you are buying a travelling cloak." "Oh! dear, no," replied Madame Desforges; "they are frightful."