Department stores -- Fiction; Paris (France) -- Fiction; Seduction -- Fiction; Women sales personnel -- Fiction
The latter with a gesture of boredom refused to admit it. Clara on her
side bit her lips, and Marguerite turned away; Madame Aurélie alone
seemed won over, and encouraged Mouret with a nod when he resumed:
"Your uncle was wrong not to bring you here; his recommendation
sufficed. It is said he has a grudge against us. We are people of
more liberal minds, and if he can't find employment for his niece in
his house, why we will show him that she has only had to knock at our
door to be received. Just tell him I still like him very much, and
that if he has cause for complaint he must blame, not me, but the new
circumstances of commerce. Tell him, too, that he will ruin himself if
he insists on keeping to his ridiculous old-fashioned ways."
Denise turned quite white again. It was Mouret; no one had mentioned
his name, but he revealed himself, and she guessed who he was, and
understood why the sight of him had caused her such emotion in the
street, in the silk department, and again here. This emotion, which
she could not analyze, pressed more and more upon her heart like an
unbearable weight. All the stories related by her uncle came back to
her, increasing Mouret's importance in her eyes, surrounding him with
a sort of halo in his capacity as the master of the terrible machine
between whose wheels she had felt herself all the morning. And, behind
his handsome face, with its well-trimmed beard, and eyes the colour of
old gold, she beheld the dead woman, that Madame Hédouin, whose blood
had helped to cement the stones of the house. The shiver she had felt
the previous night again came upon her; and she thought she was merely
afraid of him.
However, Madame Aurélie had closed the book. She only wanted one
saleswoman, and she already had ten applications. True, she was too
anxious to please the governor to hesitate for a moment, still the
application would follow its course, inspector Jouve would go and make
inquiries, send in his report, and then she would come to a decision.
"Very good, mademoiselle," said she majestically, as though to preserve
her authority; "we will write to you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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