The Ladies' Paradise: A Realistic NovelZola, Émile
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The Ladies' Paradise: A Realistic Novel
Zola, Émile
Department stores -- Fiction; Paris (France) -- Fiction; Seduction -- Fiction; Women sales personnel -- Fiction
Several months passed away. Denise came in nearly every evening to cheer
up Geneviève a bit, but the house became more melancholy than ever. The
works opposite were a continual torment, which intensified their bad
luck. Even when they had an hour of hope--some unexpected joy--the
falling of a tumbrel-load of bricks, the sound of the saw of a
stonecutter, or the simple call of a mason, sufficed at once to mar
their pleasure. In fact, the whole neighbourhood felt the shock. From
the boarded enclosure, running along and blocking up the three streets,
there issued a movement of feverish activity. Although the architect
used the existing buildings, he altered them in various ways to adapt
them to their new uses; and right in the centre at the opening caused by
the court-yards, he was building a central gallery as big as a
church, which was to terminate with a grand entrance in the Rue
Neuve-Saint-Augustin right in the middle of the frontage. They had, at
first, experienced great difficulty in laying the foundations, for they
had come on to some sewer deposits and loose earth, full of human
bones. Besides that, the boring of the well had made the neighbours very
anxious--a well three hundred feet deep, destined to give two hundred
gallons a minute. They had now got the walls up to the first storey;
the entire block was surrounded by scaffolding, regular towers of timber
work. There was an incessant noise from the grinding of the windlasses
hoisting up the stone, the abrupt discharge of iron bars, the clamour of
this army of workmen, accompanied by the noise of picks and hammers.
But above all, what deafened the people was the sound of the machinery.
Everything went by steam, screeching whistles rent the air; whilst, at
the slightest gust of wind, clouds of plaster flew about and covered the
neighbouring roofs like a fall of snow. The Baudus in despair looked
on at this implacable dust penetrating everywhere--getting through the
closest woodwork, soiling the goods in their shop, even gliding into
their beds; and the idea that they must continue to breathe it--that it
would finish by killing them--empoisoned their existence.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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