In order to please the few customers who had called, they had been obliged to ransack all the cupboards, and on the two long oaken tables, to the right and the left, were heaps of mantles, pelisses, and capes, garments of all sizes and all materials. Without replying, Denise set about sorting them, folding them carefully and arranging them again in the cupboards. This was the lowest work, generally performed by beginners. She ceased to protest, knowing that they required the strictest obedience, waiting till the first hand should be good enough to let her sell, as she seemed at first to have the intention of doing. She was still folding, when Mouret appeared on the scene. This was a violent shock for her; she blushed without knowing why, she felt herself invaded by a strange fear, thinking he was going to speak to her. But he did not even see her; he no longer remembered this little girl whom the charming impression of an instant had induced him to support. “Madame Aurélie,” called he in a brief voice. He was rather pale, but his eyes were clear and resolute. In making the tour of the departments he had found them empty, and the possibility of a defeat had suddenly presented itself in the midst of his obstinate faith in fortune. True, it was only eleven o'clock; he knew by experience that the crowd never arrived much before the afternoon. But certain symptoms troubled him. At the previous sales, a general movement had taken place from the morning even; besides he did not see any of those bareheaded women, customers living in the neighbourhood, who usually dropped into his shop as into a neighbour's. Like all great captains, he felt at the moment of giving battle a superstitious weakness, notwithstanding his habitually resolute attitude. Things would not go on well, he was lost, and he could not have explained why; he thought he could read his defeat on the faces of the passing ladies even. Just at that moment, Madame Boutarel, she who always bought something, was going away, saying: “No, you have nothing that pleases me. I'll see, I'll decide later on.” Mouret watched her depart. Then, as Madame Aurélie ran up at his call, he took her aside, and they exchanged a few rapid words. She wore a despairing air, and was evidently admitting that things were looking bad. For a moment they remained face to face, seized with one of those doubts which generals conceal from their soldiers. Ultimately he said out loud in his brave way: “If you want assistance, understand, take a girl from the workroom. She'll be a little help to you.” He continued his inspection in despair. He had avoided Bourdoncle all the morning, for his anxious doubts irritated him. On leaving the under-linen department, where business was still worse, he dropped right on to him, and was obliged to submit to the expression of his fears. He did not hesitate to send him to the devil, with a brutality that even his principal employees came in for when things were looking bad.