Hutin was waiting, concealing his impatience with a smile that did not quit his lips. Were they going to keep him there long? Really the women took things very coolly, it was like taking his money out of his pocket. At last Madame Guibal went away and continued her stroll, turning round the splendid display of silks with an enraptured air. “If I were you I should buy the mantle ready-made,” said Madame Desforges, suddenly returning to the Paris Paradise. “It won't cost you so much.” “It's true that the trimmings and making-up----” murmured Madame Marty. “Besides, one has more choice.” All three had risen. Madame Desforges turned to Hutin, saying: “Have the goodness to show us to the ready-made department.” He remained dumbfoundered, not being used to such defeats. What! the dark lady bought nothing! Had he then made a mistake? He abandoned Madame Marty and attacked Madame Desforges, trying his powerful abilities as salesman on her. “And you, madame, would you not like to see our satins, our velvets? We have some extraordinary bargains.” “Thanks, another time,” replied she coolly, not looking at him any more than she had at Mignot. Hutin had to take up Madame Marty's purchases and walk before the ladies to show them to the ready-made department But he had also the grief of seeing that Robineau was selling Madame Boutarel a good quantity of silk. Decidedly his scent was playing him false, he wouldn't make four sous. Beneath the amiable correctness of his manners there was the rage of a man being robbed and swallowed up by the others. “On the first floor, ladies,” said he, without ceasing to smile. It was no easy matter to get to the staircase. A compact crowd of heads was surging under the galleries, expanding like an overflowing river into the middle of the hall. Quite a battle of business was going on, the salesmen had this population of women at their mercy, passing them from one to the other with feverish haste. The moment of the formidable afternoon rush had arrived, when the over-heated machine led the dance of customers, drawing the money from their very flesh. In the silk department especially a breath of folly seemed to pervade all, the Paris Paradise collected such a crowd that for several minutes Hutin could not advance a step; and Henriette, half-suffocated, having raised her eyes, beheld Mouret at the top of the stairs, his favourite position, from which he could see the victory. She smiled, hoping that he would come down and extricate her. But he did not even recognise her in the crowd; he was still with Vallagnosc, showing him the house, his face beaming with triumph.