Beside himself with rage with an old lady, who, after keeping him a quarter of an hour, had finished by buying a yard of black satin for a pair of stays, Hutin had quite forgotten Madame Desforges. In busy moments they took no notice of the turns, each salesman served the customers as they arrived. And he was answering Madame Boutarel, who was finishing her afternoon at The Ladies' Paradise, where she had already spent three hours in the morning, when Favier's warning made him start. What! was he going to miss the governor's sweetheart, from whom he had sworn to extract a five-franc piece for himself? That would be the height of ill-luck, for he hadn't made three francs as yet with all those other chignons who were mooning about the place! Bouthemont was just then calling out loudly: "Come gentlemen, some one this way!" Thereupon Hutin passed Madame Boutarel over to Robineau, who was doing nothing. "Here's the second-hand, madame. He will answer you better than I can." And he rushed off to take Madame Marty's purchases from the woollen salesman who had accompanied the ladies. That day a nervous excitement must have interfered with his usually keen scent. As a rule, the first glance told him if a customer meant to buy, and how much. Then he domineered over the customer, hastened to serve her so as to pass on to another, imposing his choice upon her and persuading her that he knew better than herself what material she required. "What sort of silk, madame?" he asked, in his most gallant manner and Madame Desforges had no sooner opened her mouth than he added: "I know, I've got just what you want." When the piece of Paris Delight was unfolded on a corner of the counter, between heaps of other silks, Madame Marty and her daughter approached. Hutin, rather anxious, understood that it was at first a question of serving these two. Whispered words were exchanged, Madame Desforges was advising her friend. "Oh! certainly," she murmured. "A silk at five francs twelve sous will never equal one at fifteen, or even ten." "It is very light," repeated Madame Marty. "I'm afraid that it has not sufficient body for a mantle." This remark induced the salesman to intervene. He smiled with the exaggerated politeness of a man who cannot make a mistake. "But flexibility, madame, is the chief quality of this silk. It will not crimple. It's exactly what you require." Impressed by such an assurance, the ladies said no more. They had taken the silk up, and were again examining it, when they felt a touch on their shoulders. It was Madame Guibal, who had been slowly walking about the shop for an hour past, feasting her eyes on all the assembled riches but not buying so much as a yard of calico. And now there was another explosion of gossip. "What! Is that you?" "Yes, it's I, rather knocked about though." "What a crowd--eh? One can't get about. And the oriental saloon?" "Ravishing!" "Good heavens! what a success! Stay a moment, we will go upstairs together."