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
“I fancy that at each meeting they change their hôtel,” murmured the
young man. “Not long ago, he was on a tour of inspection; he wrote to
his wife every day from Blois, Libourne, and Tarbes; and yet I feel
convinced I saw them going into a family boarding-house at Batignolles.
But look at him, isn't he splendid before her with his military
correctness! The old French gallantry, my dear fellow, the old French
gallantry!”
“And your marriage?” asked Mouret Paul, without taking his eyes off the
count, replied that they were still waiting for the death of the aunt.
Then, with a triumphant air: “There, did you see him? He stooped down,
and slipped an address into her hand. She's now accepting with the most
virtuous air. She's a terrible woman, that delicate red-haired creature
with her careless ways. Well! there are some fine things going on in
your place!”
“Oh!” said Mouret, smiling, “these ladies are not in my house, they are
at home here.”
He then began to joke. Love, like the swallows, always brought good luck
to a house. No doubt he knew the girls who wandered about from counter
to counter, the ladies who accidentally met a friend in the shop; but
if they bought nothing, they filled up a place, and helped to crowd and
warm the shop. Still continuing his gossip, he carried his old comrade
off, and planted him on the threshold of the reading-room, opposite the
grand central gallery, the successive halls of which ran along at their
feet. Behind them, the reading-room still retained its quiet air,
only disturbed by the scratching of the pens and the rustling of the
newspapers. One old gentleman had gone to sleep over the _Moniteur_.
Monsieur de Boves was looking at the pictures, with the evident
intention of losing his future son-in-law in the crowd as soon as
possible. And, alone, amid this calmness, Madame Bourdelais was amusing
her children, talking very loud, as in a conquered place.
“You see they are quite at home,” said Mouret, who pointed with a
broad gesture to the multitude of women with which the departments were
overflowing.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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