“Listen to me, Mademoiselle Fanny,” he was saying; “you are always in a hurry. Did the striped vicugna do the other day? I shall come and see you, and ask for my commission.” But the girl escaped, laughing, and Liénard found himself before Madame Desforges, whom he could not help asking: “What can I serve you with, madame?” She wanted a dress, not too dear but yet strong. Liénard, with the view of sparing his arms, which was his principal care, manoeuvred to make her take one of the stuffs already unfolded on the counter. There were cashmeres, serges, vicugnas, and he declared that there was nothing better to be had, they never wore out. But none of these seemed to satisfy her. On one of the shelves she had observed a blue serge, which she wished to see. He made up his mind at last, and took down the roll, but she thought it too rough. Then he showed her a cheviot, some diagonal, some greys, every sort of woollens, which she felt out of curiosity, for the pleasure of doing so, decided at heart to take no matter what. The young man was thus obliged to empty the highest shelves; his shoulders cracked, the counter had disappeared under the silky grain of the cashmeres and poplins, the rough nap of the cheviot, and the tufty down of the vicugna; there were samples of every material and every tint. Though she had not the least wish to buy any, she asked to see some grenadine and some Chambéry gauze. Then, when she had seen enough, she said: “Oh! after all, the first is the best; it's for my cook. Yes, the serge, the one at two francs.” And when Liénard had measured it, pale with suppressed anger, she added: “Have the goodness to carry that to pay-desk No. 10, for Madame Desforges.” Just as she was going away, she recognised Madame Marty close to her, accompanied by her daughter Valentine, a tall girl of fourteen, thin and bold, who was already casting a woman's covetous looks on the goods. “Ah! it's you, dear madame?” “Yes, dear madame; what a crowd--eh?” “Oh! don't speak of it, it's stifling. And such a success! Have you seen the oriental saloon?” “Superb--wonderful!” And amidst the pushing and crushing of the growing crowd of modest purses eagerly seeking the cheap lines in the woollen goods, they went into ecstasies over the exhibition of carpets. Then Madame Marty explained she was looking for some material for a mantle; but she was not quite decided; she wanted to see some check patterns. “Look, mamma,” murmured Valentine, “it's too common.” “Come to the silk department,” said Madame Desforges, “you must see their famous Paris Paradise.” Madame Marty hesitated for a moment. It would be very dear, and she had faithfully promised her husband to be careful! She had been buying for an hour, quite a pile of articles were following her already: a muff and some cuffs and collars for herself, some stockings for her daughter. She finished by saying to the shopman who was showing her the checks: