Then, after a general hand-shaking, she asked Henriette:
“You're engaging a new maid, then?”
“No,” replied the other, astonished. “Why?”
“Because I've just seen a young girl in the ante-room.” Henriette interrupted her, laughing. “It's true; all these shop-girls look like ladies' maids, don't they? Yes, it's a young person come to alter a mantle.”
Mouret looked at her intently, a suspicion crossing his mind. She went on with a forced gaiety, explaining that she had bought mantle at The Ladies' Paradise the previous week.
“What!” asked Madame Marty, “have you deserted Sauveur then?”
“No my dear, but I wished to make an experiment. Besides, I was pretty well satisfied with a first purchase, a travelling cloak. But this time it has not succeeded at all. You may say what you like, one is horribly trussed up in the big shops. I speak out plainly, even before you, Monsieur Mouret; you will never know how to dress a woman with the slightest claim to distinction.”
Mouret did not defend his house, still keeping his eyes on her, thinking to himself that she would never have dared to do such a thing. And it was Bouthemont who had to plead the cause of The Ladies' Paradise.
“If all the aristocratic ladies who patronise us announced the fact,” replied he, gaily, “you would be astonished at our customers. Order a garment to measure at our place, it will equal one from Sauveur's, and will cost but half the money. But there, just because it's cheaper it's not so good.”
“So it doesn't fit, this mantle you speak of?” resumed Madame de Boves. “Ah! now I remember the young person. It's rather dark in your ante-room.”