When the checking of the first lists was finished, she left the young girl at one of the tables, absorbed in the adding-up. But she returned almost immediately, and placed Mademoiselle de Fontenailles near her; the under-linen department not wanting her any longer, had sent her to Madame Aurélie. She could also do some adding-up, it would save time. But the appearance of the marchioness, as Clara ill-naturedly called her, had disturbed the department. They laughed and joked at poor Joseph, their ferocious sallies could be heard in the pattern-room. “Don't draw back, you are not at all in my way,” said Denise, seized with pity for the poor girl. “My inkstand will suffice, we'll dip together.” Mademoiselle de Fontenailles, dulled and stultified by her unfortunate position, could not even find a word of gratitude. She appeared to be a woman who drank, her thinness had a livid appearance, and her hands alone, white and delicate, attested the distinction of her birth. The laughter ceased all at once, and the work resumed its regular roar. It was Mouret who was once more going through the departments. But he stopped and looked round for Denise, surprised not to see her there. He made a sign to Madame Aurélie; and both drew aside, talking in a low tone for a moment. He must be questioning her. She indicated with her eyes the pattern-room, then seemed to be making a report. No doubt she was relating that the young girl had been weeping that morning. “Very good!” said Mouret, aloud, coming nearer. “Show me the lists.” “This way, sir,” said the first-hand. “We have run away from the noise.” He followed her into the next room. Clara was not duped by this manouvre, and said they had better go and fetch a bed at once. But Marguerite threw her the garments at a quicker rate, in order to take up her attention and close her mouth. Wasn't the second-hand a good comrade? Her affairs did not concern any one. The department was becoming an accomplice, the young ladies got more agitated than ever, Lhomme and Joseph affected not to see or hear anything. And Jouve, the inspector, who, passing by, had remarked Madame Aurélie's tactics, commenced walking up and down before the pattern-room door, with the regular step of a sentry guarding the will and pleasure of a superior. “Give Monsieur Mouret the lists,” said the first-hand. Denise gave them, and sat there with her eyes raised. She had slightly started, but had conquered herself, and retained a fine calm look, although her cheeks were pale. For a moment, Mouret appeared to be absorbed in the list of articles, without a look for the young girl. A silence reigned, Madame Aurélie then went up to Mademoiselle de Fontenailles, who had not even turned her head, appeared dissatisfied with her counting, and said to her in a half whisper: “Go and help with the parcels. You are not used to figures.”