"Poor Robineau's done for, he looks like a drowning man," he resumed. "And the Bédorés and the Vanpouilles, they can't keep going; they're like me, played out. Deslignières will die of apoplexy, Piot and Rivoire have had the jaundice. Ah! poor child! It must be comical for those looking on to see such a string of bankrupts pass. Besides, it appears that the clean sweep is to continue. Those scoundrels are creating departments for flowers, bonnets, perfumery, boots and shoes, all sorts of things. Grognet, the perfumer in the Rue de Grammont can clear out, and I wouldn't give ten francs for Naud's boot-shop in the Rue d'Antin. The cholera's even spread as far as the Rue Sainte-Anne. Lacassagne, at the feather and flower shop, and Madame Chadeuil, whose bonnets are so well-known, will be swept away in less than a couple of years. And after those will come others and still others! All the businesses in the neighbourhood will collapse. When counter-jumpers start selling soap and goloshes, they are quite capable of dealing in fried potatoes. 'Pon my word, the world is turning upside down!" The hearse had just then crossed the Place de la Trinité, and from the corner of the gloomy coach Denise, who lulled by the funereal march of the procession still listened to the old man's endless complaints, could see the coffin ascending the steep Rue Blanche as they emerged from the Rue de la Chaussée d'Antin. Behind her uncle, who was plodding along with the blind, mute face of an ox about to be poleaxed, she seemed to hear the tramping of a flock of sheep likewise being led to the slaughter-house. It was the downfall of the shops of an entire district, all the small traders dragging their ruin, amidst the thud of damp shoes, through the black mud of Paris. Bourras, however, still continued, in a fainter voice, as if fatigued by the difficult ascent of the Rue Blanche: