“He's not so badly off,” replied Marguerite, “he's going to marry the governor's daughter.”
“Oh! oh!” replied Clara, “it would be good fun to lead him astray, then! I'll try the game on, my word of honour!” And she continued in the same strain, happy to feel Denise was shocked. The latter forgave her everything else; but the idea of her dying cousin Geneviève, finished by this cruelty, threw her into an indignant rage. At that moment a customer came in, and as Madame Aurélie had just gone downstairs, she took the direction of the counter, and called Clara.
“Mademoiselle Prunaire, you had better attend to this lady instead of gossiping there.”
“I wasn't gossiping.”
“Have the kindness to hold your tongue, and attend to this lady immediately.”
Clara gave in, conquered. When Denise showed her authority, quietly, without raising her voice, not one of them resisted. She had acquired absolute authority by her very moderation and sweetness. For a moment she walked up and down in silence, amidst the young ladies, who had become very serious. Marguerite had resumed sharpening her pencil, the point of which was always breaking. She alone continued to approve of Denise's resistance to Mouret, shaking her head, not acknowledging the baby she had had, but declaring that if they had any idea of the consequences of such a thing, they would prefer to remain virtuous.
“What! you're getting angry?” said a voice behind Denise.
It was Pauline, who was crossing the department. She had noticed the scene, and spoke in a low tone, smiling.
“But I'm obliged to,” replied Denise in the same tone, “I can't manage them otherwise.”
Pauline shrugged her shoulders. “Nonsense, you can be queen over all of us whenever you like.”