At first Mouret had cried out that they must wait; then, at a word spoken in a low tone by the inspector, he had immediately followed him, shivering, a prey again to his passion. Nothing else existed, the façade crumbled away before being built; what was the use of this supreme triumph of his pride, if the simple name of a woman whispered in his ear tortured him to this extent. Upstairs, Bourdoncle and Jouve thought it prudent to vanish. Deloche had already run away, Denise alone remained to face Mouret, paler than usual, but looking straight into his eyes. “Have the kindness to follow me, mademoiselle,” said he in a harsh voice. She followed him, they descended the two storeys, and crossed the furniture and carpet departments without saying a word. When he arrived at his office, he opened the door wide, saying, “Walk in, mademoiselle.” And, closing the door, he went to his desk. The new director's office was fitted up more luxuriously than the old one, the reps hangings had been replaced by velvet ones, and a book-case, incrusted with ivory, occupied one whole side; but on the walls there was still no picture but the portrait of Madame Hédouin, a young woman with a handsome calm face, smiling in its gold frame. “Mademoiselle,” said he at last, trying to maintain a cold, severe air, “there are certain things that we cannot tolerate. Good conduct is absolutely necessary here.” He stopped, choosing his words, in order not to yield to the furious anger which was rising up within him. What! she loved this fellow, this miserable salesman, the laughingstock of his counter! and it was the humblest, the most awkward of all that she preferred to him, the master! for he had seen them, she leaving her hand in his, and he covering that hand with kisses. “I've been very good to you, mademoiselle,” continued he, making a fresh effort “I little expected to be rewarded in this way.” Denise, immediately on entering, had been attracted by Madame Hédouin's portrait; and, notwithstanding her great trouble, was still pre-occupied by it. Every time she came into the director's office her eyes were sure to meet those of this lady. She felt almost afraid of her, although she knew her to have been very good. This time, she felt her to be a protection. “You are right, sir,” he said, softly, “I was wrong to stop and talk, and I beg your pardon for doing so. This young man comes from my part of the country.” “I'll dismiss him!” cried Mouret, putting all his suffering into this furious cry.