Just at this moment the door opened. Mouret, who was about to answer in his turn, started slightly, and both he and his companions turned round. It was Madame Desforges who, looking very gay, had put her head through the doorway to call, in a hurried voice--"Monsieur Mouret! Monsieur Mouret!" And then perceiving the others, she added, "Oh! you'll excuse me, won't you, gentlemen? I'm going to take Monsieur Mouret away for a minute. The least he can do, as he has sold me such a frightful mantle, is to give me the benefit of his experience. This girl is a stupid thing without an idea in her head. Come, come! I'm waiting for you." He hesitated, undecided, flinching from the scene he could foresee. However, he had to obey. "Go, my dear fellow, go, madame wants you," the baron said to him, with his air at once paternal and mocking. Thereupon Mouret followed her. The door closed, and he thought he could hear Vallagnosc's laugh, muffled by the hangings. His courage was entirely exhausted. Since Henriette had quitted the drawing-room, and he had known Denise to be there in jealous hands, he had experienced a growing anxiety, a nervous torment, which made him listen from time to time, as if suddenly startled by a distant sound of weeping. What could that woman invent to torture her? And all his love, that love which surprised him even now, went forth to the girl like a support and a consolation. Never before had he loved like this, found such a powerful charm in suffering. His former affections, his love for Henriette herself--so delicate, so handsome, so flattering to his pride--had never been more than agreeable pastimes; whereas nowadays his heart beat with anguish, his life was taken, he could no longer even enjoy the forgetfulness of sleep. Denise was ever in his thoughts. Even at this moment she was the sole object of his anxiety, and he was telling himself that he preferred to be there to protect her, notwithstanding his fear of some regrettable scene with the one he was following. At first, they both crossed the bed-room, silent and empty. Then Madame Desforges, pushing open a door, entered the dressing-room, with Mouret behind her. It was a rather large room, hung with red silk and furnished with a marble toilet table and a large wardrobe with three compartments and great glass doors. As the window overlooked the court-yard, it was already rather dark, and the two nickel-plated gas burners on either side of the wardrobe had been lighted. "Now, let's see," said Henriette, "perhaps we shall get on better." On entering, Mouret had found Denise standing upright, in the middle of the bright light. She was very pale, modestly dressed in a cashmere jacket, with a black hat on her head; and she was holding the mantle purchased at The Ladies' Paradise. When she saw the young man her hands slightly trembled. "I wish Monsieur Mouret to judge," resumed Henriette. "Just help me, mademoiselle."