A fortnight later, the struggle commenced between Robineau and The Ladies' Paradise. It became celebrated, and occupied for a time the whole Parisian market. Robineau, using his adversary's weapons, had advertised extensively in the newspapers. Besides that, he made a fine display, piling up enormous bales of the famous silk in his windows, with immense white tickets, displaying in giant figures the price, five francs and a half. It was this figure that caused a revolution among the women; two sous cheaper than at The Ladies' Paradise, and the silk appeared stronger. From the first day a crowd of customers flocked in. Madame Marty bought a dress she did not want, pretending it to be a bargain; Madame Bourdelais thought the silk very fine, but preferred waiting, guessing no doubt what would happen. And, indeed the following week, Mouret boldly reduced The Paris Paradise by four sous, after a lively discussion with Bourdoncle and the other managers, in which he had succeeded in inducing them to accept the challenge, even at a sacrifice; for these four sous represented a dead loss, the silk being sold already at strict cost price. It was a heavy blow to Robineau, who did not think his rival would reduce; for this suicidal competition, these losing sales, were then unknown; and the tide of customers, attracted by the cheapness, had immediately flown back towards the Rue Neuve-Saint-Augustin, whilst the shop in the Rue Neuve-des-Petits-Champs gradually emptied.
Gaujean came up from Lyons; there were hasty confabulations, and they finished by coming to a most heroic resolution; the silk should be lowered in price, they would sell it at five francs six sous, beneath which no one could go, without folly. The next day Mouret marked his at five francs four sous. After that it became a mania: Robineau replied by five francs three sous, when Mouret at once ticketed his at five francs and two sous. Neither lowered more than a sou at a time now, losing considerable sums as often as they made this present to the public. The customers laughed, delighted with this duel, moved by the terrible blows dealt each other by the two houses to please them. At last Mouret ventured as low as five francs; his staff paled before such a challenge thrown down to fortune. Robineau, utterly beaten, out of breath, stopped also at five francs, not having the courage to go any lower. And they rested at their positions, face to face, with the massacre of their goods around them.
But if honour was saved on both sides, the situation was becoming fatal for Robineau. The Ladies' Paradise had money at its disposal and a patronage which enabled it to balance its profits; whilst he, sustained by Gaujean alone, unable to recoup his losses on other articles, was exhausted, and slipped daily a little further on the verge of bankruptcy. He was dying from his hardihood, notwithstanding the numerous customers that the hazards of the struggle had brought him. One of his secret torments was to see these customers slowly quitting him, returning to The Ladies' Paradise, after the money he had lost and the efforts he had made to conquer them.
One day he quite lost patience. A customer, Madame de Boves, had come to his shop for some mantles, for he had added a ready-made department to his business. She could not make up her mind, complaining of the quality of the goods. At last she said: “Their Paris Paradise is a great deal stronger.”
Robineau restrained himself, assuring her that she was mistaken, with a tradesman's politeness, all the more respectful, because he was afraid to allow his anger to burst forth.
“But just look at the silk of this mantle!” resumed she, “one would really take it for so much cobweb. You may say what you like, sir, their silk at five francs is like leather compared with this.”
He did not reply, the blood rushing to his face, and his lips tightly closed. In point of fact he had ingeniously thought of buying some of his rival's silk for these mantles. So that it was Mouret, not he, who lost on the material. He simply cut off the selvage.
“Really you think the Paris Paradise thicker?” murmured he.
“Oh! a hundred times!” said Madame de Boves. “There's no comparison.”
This injustice on her part, her running down the goods in this way, filled him with indignation. And, as she was still turning the mantle over with a disgusted air, a little piece of the blue and silver selvage, not cut off, appeared under the lining. He could not contain himself any longer; he confessed he would even have given his head.