“Yes, that young person over there is attending to us,” replied Henriette. “But she does not appear to be very well up to her work; she can't find anything.” At this, the first-hand completely paralysed Denise by saying to her in a whisper: “You see very well you know nothing. Don't interfere any more, please.” And turning round she called out: “Mademoiselle Vadon, these ladies require a mantle!” She remained there whilst Marguerite showed the models. The girl assumed with the customers a dry polite voice, the disagreeable attitude of a young person dressed up in silk, with a sort of varnish of elegance, of which she retained, unknown to herself, the jealousy and rancour. When she heard Madame Marty say she did not wish to exceed two hundred francs, she made a grimace of pity. Oh! madame would give more, it would be impossible to find anything respectable for two hundred francs. And she threw some of the common mantles on a counter with a gesture which signified: “Just see, aren't they pitiful?” Madame Marty dared not think of them after that; she bent over to murmur in Madame Desforges's ear: “Don't you prefer to be served by men? One feels more comfortable?” At last Marguerite brought a silk mantle trimmed with jet, which she treated with more respect And Madame Aurélie abruptly called Denise. “Come, do something for your living. Just put that on your shoulders.” Denise, wounded to the heart, despairing of ever succeeding in the house, had remained motionless, her hands hanging by her side. No doubt she would be sent away, and the children would be without food. The tumult of the crowd buzzed in her head, she felt herself tottering, her arms bruised by the handling of so many armfuls of garments, hard work which she had never done before. However, she was obliged to obey and allow Marguerite to put the mantle on her, as on a dummy. “Stand upright,” said Madame Aurélie. But a moment after they forgot Denise. Mouret had just come in with Vallagnosc and Bourdoncle; and he bowed to the ladies, who complimented him on his magnificent exhibition of winter novelties. Of course they went into raptures over the oriental saloon. Vallagnosc, who was finishing his walk round the counters, displayed more surprise than admiration; for, after all, thought he, in his pessimist supineness, it was nothing more than an immense collection of calico. Bourdoncle, forgetting that he belonged to the establishment, also congratulated the governor, to make him forget his anxious doubts and persecutions of the early part of the day. “Yes, yes; things are going on very well, I'm quite satisfied,” repeated Mouret, radiant, replying with a smile to Madame Desforges's tender looks. “But I must not interrupt you, ladies.” Then all eyes were again fixed on Denise. She placed herself entirely in the hands of Marguerite, who was making her turn round slowly. “What do you think of it--eh?” asked Madame Marty of Madame Desforges.