The report of this quarrel, exaggerated, misconstrued, was already affording amusement for the whole shop, when the story of Mouret's letter was circulated. In fact, it was to a salesman in the silk department that Liénard first confided the news. With the silk-vendors the stock-taking was going on rapidly. Favier and two shopmen, mounted on stools, were emptying the shelves, passing the pieces of stuff to Hutin as they went on, the latter, standing on a table, calling out the figures, after consulting the tickets; and he then dropped the pieces, which, rising slowly like an autumn tide, were gradually encumbering the floor. Other men were writing, Albert Lhomme was also helping them, his face pale and heavy after a night spent in a low public-house at La Chapelle. A ray of sun fell from the glazed roof of the hall, through which could be seen the ardent blue of the sky. “Draw those blinds!” cried out Bouthemont, very busy superintending the work. “The sun is unbearable!” Favier, who was stretching to reach a piece, grumbled under his breath: “A nice thing to shut people up a lovely day like this! No fear of it raining on a stock-taking day! And they keep us under lock and key like a lot of convicts when all Paris is out-doors!” He passed the piece to Hutin. On the ticket was the measurement, diminished at each sale by the quantity sold, which greatly simplified the work. The second-hand cried out: “Fancy silk, small check, twenty-one yards, at six francs and a half.” And the silk went to increase the heap on the floor. Then he continued a conversation commenced, by saying to Favier: “So he wanted to fight you?” “Yes, I was quietly drinking my glass of beer. It was hardly worth while contradicting me, she has just received a letter from the governor inviting her to dinner. The whole shop is talking about it.” “What! it wasn't done!” Favier handed him another piece. “A caution, isn't it? One would have staked his life on it. It seemed like an old connection.” “Ditto, twenty-five yards!” cried Hutin. The dull thud of the piece was heard, whilst he added in a lower tone: “She carried on fearfully, you know, at that old fool Bourras's.”