Madame Desforges stood still, struck by the ardent life which was this day animating the immense nave. Below, around her, continued the eddying of the crowd, of which the double current of those entering and those going out made itself felt as far as the silk department; a crowd still very mixed in its elements, though the afternoon was bringing a greater number of ladies amongst the shopkeepers and house-wives; a great many women in mourning, with their flowing veils, and the inevitable wet nurses straying about, protecting their babies with their outstretched arms. And this sea of faces, these many-coloured hats, these bare heads, both dark and light, rolled from one end of the gallery to the other, confused and discoloured amidst the loud glare of the stuffs. Madame Desforges could see nothing but large price tickets bearing enormous figures everywhere, their white patches standing out on the bright printed cottons, the shining silks, and the sombre woollens. Piles of ribbons curtailed the heads, a wall of flannel threw out a promontory; on all sides the mirrors carried the departments back into infinite space, reflecting the displays with portions of the public, faces reversed, and halves of shoulders and arms; whilst to the right and to the left the lateral galleries opened up other vistas, the snowy background of the linen department, the speckled depth of the hosiery one, distant views illuminated by the rays of light from some glazed bay, and in which the crowd appeared nothing but a mass of human dust. Then, when Madame Desforges raised her eyes, she saw, along the staircases, on the flying bridges, around the balustrade of each storey, a continual humming ascent, an entire population in the air, travelling in the cuttings of the enormous ironwork construction, casting black shadows on the diffused light of the enamelled windows. Large gilded lustres hung from the ceiling; a decoration of rugs, embroidered silks, stuffs worked with gold, hung down, draping the balustrade with gorgeous banners; and, from one end to the other, there were clouds of lace, palpitations of muslin, trophies of silks, apotheoses of half-dressed dummies; and right at the top, above all this confusion, the bedding department, suspended as it were, displayed little iron bedsteads with their mattresses, hung with their white curtains, a sort of school dormitory sleeping amidst the stamping of the customers, rarer and rarer as the departments ascended. “Does madame require a cheap pair of garters?” asked a salesman of Madame Desforges, seeing her standing still “All silk, twenty-nine sous.”