They smiled. Bourdoncle showed evident signs of impatience; her remark fell, moreover, amidst a most discouraging silence. "What establishment have you been at, in Paris?" resumed Madame Aurélie. "I've just arrived from Valognes, madame." This was a fresh disaster. As a rule, The Ladies' Paradise only engaged as saleswomen such girls as had had a year's experience in one of the small houses in Paris. Denise thought all was lost; and, had it not been for the children, had she not been obliged to work for them, she would have brought this futile interrogatory to an end by leaving the place. "Where were you at Valognes?" asked Madame Aurélie. "At Cornaille's." "I know him--good house," remarked Mouret. It was very seldom that he interfered in the engagement of the employees, the manager of each department being responsible for his or her staff. But with his fine appreciation of women, he divined in this girl a hidden charm, a wealth of grace and tenderness of which she herself was ignorant. The good reputation of the establishment in which the candidate had started was of great importance, often deciding the question in his or her favour. Thus even Madame Aurélie continued in a kinder tone: "And why did you leave Cornaille's?" "For family reasons," replied Denise, turning scarlet. "We have lost our parents, I have been obliged to follow my brothers. Here is a certificate." It was excellent. Her hopes were reviving, when another question troubled her. "Have you any other references in Paris? Where do you live?" "At my uncle's," she murmured, hesitating to name him for she feared that they would never engage the niece of a competitor. "At my uncle Baudu's, opposite." At this, Mouret interfered a second time. "What! are you Baudu's niece?" said he, "is it Baudu who sent you here?" "Oh! no, sir!" answered Denise; and she could not help laughing as she spoke for the idea appeared to her so singular. That laugh was like a transfiguration; she became quite rosy, and the smile playing round her rather large mouth lighted up her whole face. Her grey eyes sparkled with a soft flame, her cheeks filled with delicious dimples, and even her light hair seemed to partake of the frank and courageous gaiety that pervaded her whole being. "Why, she's really pretty," whispered Mouret to Bourdoncle.