“Yes, sir. Thanks.”
And Denise was going away with her money, when she at last met Robineau. He had already heard of her dismissal, and promised to find the necktie-dealer. In a lower tone he tried to console her, but lost his temper: what an existence, to be at the continual mercy of a whim! to be thrown out at an hour's notice, without even being able to claim a full month's salary. Denise went up to inform Madame Cabin, saying that she would try and send for her box during the evening. It was just striking five when she found herself on the pavement of the Place Gaillon, bewildered, in the midst of the crowd of people and cabs.
The same evening when Robineau got home he received a letter from the management informing him, in a few lines, that for certain reasons relating to the internal arrangements they were obliged to deprive themselves of his services. He had been in the house seven years, and it was only that afternoon that he was talking to the principals; this was a heavy blow for him. Hutin and Favier were crowing in the silk department, as loudly as Clara and Marguerite in the dress one. A jolly good riddance! Such clean sweeps make room for the others! Deloche and Pauline were the only ones to regret Denise's departure, exchanging, in the rush of business, bitter words of regret at losing her, so kind, so well behaved.
“Ah,” said the young man, “if ever she succeeds anywhere else, I should like to see her come back here, and trample on the others; a lot of good-for-nothing creatures!”
It was Bourdoncle who in this affair had to bear the brunt of Mouret's anger. When the latter heard of Denise's dismissal, he was exceedingly annoyed. As a rule he never interfered with the staff; but this time he affected to see an encroachment on his power, an attempt to over-ride his authority. Was he no longer master in the place, that they dared to give orders? Everything must pass through his hands, absolutely everything; and he would immediately crush any one who should resist Then, after making personal inquiries, all the while in a nervous torment which he could not conceal, he lost his temper again. This poor girl was not lying; it was really her brother. Campion had fully recognised him. Why was she sent away, then? He even spoke of taking her back.
However, Bourdoncle, strong in his passive resistance, bent before the storm. He watched Mouret, and one day when he saw him a little calmer, ventured to say in a meaning voice: “It's better for everybody that she's gone.”
Mouret stood there looking very awkward, the blood rushing to his face. “Well!” replied he, laughing, “perhaps you're right. Let's go and take a turn down stairs. Things are looking better, we took nearly a hundred thousand francs yesterday.”