“She's looking for Robineau,” said Favier. “I can't think what they're up to together. Oh! nothing smutty; Robineau's too big a fool. They say he has procured her a little work, some neckties. What a spec, eh?” Hutin was meditating something spiteful. When Denise passed near he, he stopped her, saying: “Is it me you're looking for?” She turned very red. Since the Joinville excursion, she dared not read her heart, full of confused sensations. She was constantly recalling his appearance with that red-haired girl, and if she still trembled before him, it was doubtless from uneasiness. Had she ever loved him? Did she love him still? She hardly liked to stir up these things, which were painful to her. “No, sir,” she replied, embarrassed. Hutin then began to laugh at her uneasy manner. “Would you like us to serve him to you? Favier, just serve this young lady with Robineau.” She looked at him fixedly, with the sad calm look with which she had received the wounding remarks the young ladies had made about her. Ah! he was spiteful, he attacked her as well as the others! And she felt a sort of supreme anguish, the breaking of a last tie. Her face expressed such real suffering, that Favier, though not of a very tender nature, came to her assistance. “Monsieur Robineau is in the stock-room,” said he. “No doubt he will be back for lunch. You'll find him here this afternoon, if you want to speak to him.” Denise thanked him, and went up to her department, where Madamé Aurélie was waiting for her in a terrible rage. What! she had been gone half an hour! Where had she just sprung from? Not from the work-room, that was quite certain! The poor girl hung down her head, thinking of this avalanche of misfortunes. All would be over if Robineau did not come in. However, she resolved to go down again.