They interrupted her with a burst of laughter, and commenced to talk about the management. All the girls took coffee but Denise, who couldn't bear it, she said. And they lingered there before their cups, the young ladies from the under-linen department in woollen dresses, with a middle-class simplicity, the young ladies from the dress department in silk, their napkins tucked under their chins, in order not to stain their dresses, like ladies who might have come down to the servants' hall to dine with their chamber-maids. They had opened the glazed sash of the airhole to change the stifling poisoned air; but they were obliged to close it at once, the cab-wheels seemed to be passing over the table. “Hush!” exclaimed Pauline; “here's that old beast!” It was Jouve, the inspector, who was rather fond of prowling about at meal times, when the young ladies were there. He was supposed, in fact, to look after their dining-rooms. With a smiling face he would come in and walk round the tables; sometimes he would even indulge in a little gossip, and inquire if they had made a good lunch. But as he annoyed them and made them feel uncomfortable, they all hastened to get away. Although the bell had not rung, Clara was the first to disappear; the others followed her, so that soon only Denise and Pauline remained. The latter, after having drunk her coffee, was finishing her chocolate drops. All at once she got up, saying: “I'm going to send the messenger for some oranges. Are you coming?” “Presently,” replied Denise, who was nibbling at a crust, determined to wait till the last, so as to be able to see Robineau on going upstairs. However, when she found herself alone with Jouve she felt uneasy, so she quitted the table; but as she was going towards the door he stopped her saying: “Mademoiselle Baudu----” Standing before her, he smiled with a paternal air. His thick grey moustache and short cropped hair gave him a respectable military appearance; and he threw out his chest, on which was displayed the red ribbon of his decoration. “What is it, Monsieur Jouve?” asked she, feeling reassured. “I caught you again this morning talking upstairs behind the carpet department You know it is not allowed, and if I reported you---- She must be very fond of you, your friend Pauline.” His moustache quivered, a flame lighted up his enormous nose. “What makes you so fond of each other, eh?” Denise, without understanding, was again becoming seized with an uneasy feeling. He was getting too close, and was speaking right in her face. “It's true we were talking, Monsieur Jouve,” she stammered, “but there's no harm in talking a bit. You are very good to me, and I'm very much obliged to you.” “I ought not to be good,” said he. “Justice, and nothing more, is my motto. But when it's a pretty girl----”