"As for me, I'm settled. But I still hold on all the same, and won't let him go. He's just lost his appeal case. Ah! that's cost me something: nearly two years' pleading, and the solicitors and the barristers! Never mind, he won't pass under my shop, the judges have decided that such work as that could not be considered legitimate repairing. Just fancy, he talked of creating underneath my place a saloon where his people might judge the colours of the stuffs by gas-light, a subterranean room which would have joined the hosiery to the drapery departments! And he can't get over it; he can't swallow the fact that an old wreck like me should stop his progress, when all the others are on their knees before his money. But never! I won't have it! that's understood. Very likely I may be worsted. Since I have had to fight against the process-servers, I know that the villain has been buying up my bills in the hope of playing me some villainous trick. But that doesn't matter; he says 'yes,' and I say 'no,' and I shall still say 'no' even when I get between two boards like that poor child we are following." When they reached the Boulevard de Clichy, the coach rolled on at a quicker pace and one could hear the heavy breathing, the unconscious haste of the followers, anxious to get the sad ceremony over. What Bourras did not openly mention, was the frightful misery into which he himself had fallen, bewildered by the worries which besiege the small trader who is on the road to ruin and yet remains obstinate even under a shower of protested bills. Denise, well acquainted with his position, at last broke the silence by saying, in a voice of entreaty: "Pray don't stand out any longer, Monsieur Bourras. Let me arrange matters for you." But he interrupted her with a violent gesture. "You be quiet. That's nobody's business. You're a good little girl, and I know you lead him a hard life, that man who thought you were for sale just like my house. But what would you answer if I advised you to say 'yes?' You'd send me about my business, eh? And so, when I say 'no,' don't you interfere in the matter." Then, the coach having stopped at the cemetery gate, he alighted from it with the young girl. The Baudus' vault was reached by the first path on the left. In a few minutes the ceremony was over. Jean drew away his uncle, who was looking into the grave all agape. The mourners spread about amongst the neighbouring tombs, and the faces of all these shopkeepers, their blood impoverished by living in damp, unhealthy shops, assumed an ugly, suffering look under the leaden sky. When the coffin gently slipped down, their blotched and pimpled cheeks paled, and their bleared eyes, blinded by the constant contemplation of figures, turned away.