“So there's no one here to serve?” asked Hutin.
But he suddenly caught sight of Denise. They had kept her folding all the morning, only giving her a few doubtful customers to whom she had not sold anything. When he recognised her, occupied in clearing off the counter an enormous heap of garments, he ran up to her.
“Look here, mademoiselle! serve these ladies who are waiting.”
And he quickly slipped Madame Marty's purchases into her arms, tired of carrying them about the place. His smile returned, and in this smile there was the ill-natured expression of the experienced salesman, who shrewdly guessed into what an awkward position he had just thrown both the ladies and the young girl. The latter, however, remained quite troubled before this unhoped-for sale which suddenly presented itself. For the second time Hutin appeared to her like an unknown friend, fraternal and tender, always ready to spring out of darkness and save her. Her eyes glistened with gratitude; she followed him with a lingering look, whilst he was elbowing his way towards his department.
“I want a mantle,” said Madame Marty.
Then Denise questioned her. What style of mantle? But the lady had no idea, she wished to see what the house had got. And the young girl, already very tired, bewildered by the crowd, lost her head; she had never served any but the rare customers who came to Cornaille's, at Valognes; she didn't even know the number of the models, nor their places in the cupboards. She hardly knew how to reply to the ladies, who were beginning to lose patience, when Madame Aurélie perceived Madame Desforges, of whose connection with Mouret she was no doubt aware, for she hastened over and asked with a smile:
“Are these ladies being served?”
“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: