At last, the storm burst one day on the head of Hutin himself. Favier, appointed second-hand, was undermining the first-hand, in order to dislodge him from his position. This was always the way; he addressed crafty reports to the directors, taking advantage of every occasion to have the first-hand caught doing something wrong. Thus, one morning, as Mouret was going through the silk department, he stopped, surprised to see Favier engaged in altering the price tickets of a stock of black velvet. “Why are you lowering the prices?” asked he. “Who gave you the order to do so?” The second-hand, who was making a great noise over this work, as if he wished to attract the governor's attention, foreseeing the result, replied with an innocent, surprised air: “Why, Monsieur Hutin told me, sir.” “Monsieur Hutin! Where is Monsieur Hutin?” And when the latter came upstairs, called by a salesman, an animated explanation ensued. What! he undertook to lower the prices himself now! But he appeared greatly astonished in his turn, having merely talked over the matter with Favier, without giving any positive orders. The latter then assumed the sorrowful air of an employee who finds himself obliged to contradict his superior. However, he was quite willing to accept the blame, if it would get the latter out of a scrape. Things began to look very bad. “Understand, Monsieur Hutin!” cried Mouret, “I have never tolerated these attempts at independence. We alone decide about the prices.” He continued, with a sharp voice, and wounding intentions, which surprised the salesmen, for as a rule these discussions were carried on quietly, and the case might really have resulted from a misunderstanding. One could feel he had some unavowed spite to satisfy. He had at last caught that Hutin at fault, that Hutin who was said to be Denise's lover! He could now solace himself, by making him feel that he was the master! And he exaggerated matters, even insinuating that this reduction of price appeared to conceal very questionable intentions. “Sir,” repeated Hutin, “I meant to consult you about it. It is really necessary, as you know, for these velvets have not succeeded.” Mouret cut him short with a final insult. “Very good, sir; we will look into the matter. But don't do such a thing again, if you value your place.” And he walked off. Hutin, bewildered, furious, finding no one but Favier to confide in, swore he would go and throw his resignation at the brute's head. But he soon left off talking of going away, and began to stir up all the abominable accusations which were current amongst the salesmen against their chiefs. And Favier, his eye sparkling, defended himself with a great show of sympathy. He was obliged to reply, wasn't he? Besides, could any one have foreseen such a row for so trifling a matter? What had come to the governor lately, that he should be so unbearable?