They had again returned to the big establishments. Mouret had to give his opinion; he came up to them and affected to be very impartial. The Bon Marché was an excellent house, solid and respectable; but the Louvre certainly had a more showy class of customers.
"In short, you prefer The Ladies' Paradise," said the baron, smiling.
"Yes," replied Mouret, quietly. "There we really love our customers."
All the women present were of his opinion. It was indeed just that; at The Ladies' Paradise, they found themselves as at a sort of private party, they felt a continual caress of flattery, an overflowing adoration which made the most dignified of them linger there. The vast success of the establishment sprang from that gallant fascination.
"By the way," asked Henriette, who wished to appear entirely at her ease, "what have you done with my protégée, Monsieur Mouret? You know—Mademoiselle de Fontenailles." And, turning towards Madame Marty, she explained, "A marchioness, my dear, a poor girl fallen into poverty."
"Oh," said Mouret, "she earns three francs a day by stitching pattern-books, and I fancy I shall be able to marry her to one of my messengers."
"Oh! fie! what a horror!" exclaimed Madame de Boves.
He looked at her, and replied in his calm voice: "Why so, madame? Isn't it better for her to marry an honest, hard-working messenger than to run the risk of being picked up by some good-for-nothing fellow outside?"
Vallagnosc wished to interfere, for the sake of a joke. "Don't push him too far, madame, or he'll tell you that all the old families of France ought to sell calico."
"Well," declared Mouret, "it would at least be an honourable end for a great many of them."