This was true, Baugé, who had left the Bon Marché for The Ladies' Paradise, was going to marry her about the middle of the month. Bourdoncle did not like these married couples; however, they had managed to get the necessary permission, and even hoped to obtain a fortnight's holiday for their honeymoon. On hearing Denise's remark Pauline laughed heartily. "But, my dear," said she. "Baugé is going to marry me because he is Baugé. He's my equal, that's natural. Whereas Monsieur Mouret! Do you think that Monsieur Mouret could marry one of his saleswomen?" "Oh! no, oh! no," exclaimed Denise, shocked by the absurdity of the question, "and that's why he ought never to have written to me." This argument seemed to astonish Pauline. Her coarse face, with small tender eyes, assumed quite an expression of maternal pity. Then she got up, opened the piano, and with one finger softly played the air of "King Dagobert," doubtless to enliven the situation. The noises of the street, the distant melopœia of a woman crying out green peas, ascended to the bare saloon, whose emptiness seemed increased by the white coverings of the furniture. Denise had thrown herself back on the sofa, her head against the woodwork and shaken by a fresh flood of sobs, which she stifled in her handkerchief. "Again!" resumed Pauline, turning round. "Really you are not reasonable. Why did you bring me here? We ought to have stopped in your room." She knelt down before her, and had begun lecturing her again, when a sound of footsteps was heard in the passage. And thereupon she ran to the door and looked out. "Hush! Madame Aurélie!" she murmured. "I'm off, and just you dry your eyes. She need not know what's up." When Denise was alone, she rose, and forced back her tears; and, her hands still trembling, fearful of being caught there weeping, she closed the piano, which her friend had left open. However, on hearing Madame Aurélie knocking at her door, she at once left the drawing-room. "What! you are up!" exclaimed the first-hand. "It's very thoughtless of you, my dear child. I just came up to see how you were, and to tell you that we did not require you downstairs." Denise assured her, however, that she felt much better and that it would do her good to have some occupation. "I shan't tire myself, madame. You can put me on a chair, and I'll do some writing." Both then went downstairs. Madame Aurélie, most attentive, insisted on Denise leaning on her shoulder. She must have noticed the young girl's red eyes, for she was stealthily examining her. No doubt she was aware of much that was going on.