However, as she wished to leave the door open, in order to keep an eye on her young ladies, the noise came in, and they could not hear themselves much better even in this pattern-room--a large, square apartment furnished merely with some chairs and three long tables. In one corner were the great machine knives, for cutting up the patterns. Entire pieces of stuff were consumed; every year they sent away more than sixty thousand francs' worth of material, cut up in strips. From morning to night, the knives were cutting silk, wool, and linen, with a scythe-like noise. Then, too, the books had to be got together, gummed or sewn. And between the two windows, there was also a little printing-press for the tickets. "Not so loud, please!" cried Madame Aurélie every now and again, quite unable as she was to hear Denise reading out the articles. Then, the checking of the first lists being completed, she left the young girl at one of the tables, absorbed in the adding-up; but came back almost immediately, and placed Mademoiselle de Fontenailles near her. The under-linen department not requiring Madame Desforges' _protégée_ any longer, had placed her at her disposal. She could also do some adding-up, it would save time. But the appearance of the marchioness, as Clara ill-naturedly called the poor creature, had disturbed the department. They laughed and joked at poor Joseph, and their ferocious sallies were wafted into the pattern-room. "Don't draw back, you are not at all in my way," said Denise, seized with pity. "My inkstand will suffice, we'll dip together." Mademoiselle de Fontenailles, brutified by her unfortunate position, could not even find a word of gratitude. She looked like a woman who drank, her meagre face had a livid hue, and her hands alone, white and delicate, attested the distinction of her birth. However, the laughter all at once ceased, and the work resumed its regular roar. Mouret was once more going through the departments. But he stopped and looked round for Denise, surprised at not seeing her there. Then he made a sign to Madame Aurélie; and both drew aside, and for a moment talked in a low tone. He must have been questioning her. She nodded towards the pattern-room and then seemed to be making a report. No doubt she was relating that the young girl had been weeping that morning. "Very good!" said Mouret, aloud, coming nearer. "Show me the lists." "This way, sir," said the first-hand. "We have run away from the noise."