It was a young fellow with bright eyes, whom the doorkeeper had found and brought in. He preferred to examine the injured man before they put him to bed. Only one of his legs, the left one, was broken above the ankle; it was a simple fracture, no serious complication appeared likely to result from it. And they were about to carry the stretcher into the back-room when Gaujean arrived. He came to give them an account of a last attempt to settle matters, an attempt moreover which had failed; the declaration of bankruptcy was unavoidable.
"Dear me," murmured he, "what's the matter?"
In a few words, Denise informed him. Then he stopped, feeling awkward, while Robineau said, in a feeble voice: "I don't bear you any ill-will, but all this is partly your fault."
"Well, my dear fellow," replied Gaujean, "it wanted stronger men than ourselves. You know I'm not in a much better position than you are."
They raised the stretcher; Robineau still found strength to say: "No, no, stronger fellows than us would have given way as we have. I can understand such obstinate old men as Bourras and Baudu standing out; but for you and I, who are young, who had accepted the new style of things, it was wrong! No, Gaujean, it's the last of a world."
They carried him off. Madame Robineau embraced Denise with an eagerness in which there was almost a feeling of joy at having at last got rid of all those worrying business matters. And, as Gaujean went away with the young girl, he confessed to her that Robineau, poor devil, was right. It was idiotic to try to struggle against The Ladies' Paradise. Personally he felt he would be lost, if he did not get back into its good graces. The night before, in fact, he had secretly made a proposal to Hutin, who was just leaving for Lyons. But he felt very doubtful, and tried to interest Denise in the matter, aware, no doubt, of her powerful influence.
"Upon my word," said he, "so much the worse for the manufacturers! Every one would laugh at me if I ruined myself in fighting for other people's benefit, when those fellows are struggling as to who shall make at the cheapest price! As you said some time ago, the manufacturers have only to follow the march of progress by a better organization and new methods. Everything will come all right; it is sufficient that the public are satisfied."
Denise smiled and replied: "Go and tell that to Monsieur Mouret himself. Your visit will please him, and he's not the man to display any rancour, if you offer him even a centime profit per yard."
Madame Baudu died one bright sunny afternoon in January. For a fortnight she had been unable to go down into the shop which a charwoman now looked after. She sat in the centre of her bed, propped up by some pillows. Nothing but her eyes seemed to be alive in her white face; and with head erect, she obstinately gazed upon The Ladies' Paradise opposite, through the small curtains of the windows. Baudu, himself suffering from the same obsession, from the despairing fixity of her gaze, sometimes wanted to draw the larger curtains. But she stopped him with an imploring gesture, obstinately desirous of looking and looking till the last moment should come. The monster had now robbed her of everything, her business, her daughter; she herself had gradually died away with The Old Elbeuf, losing some part of her life as the shop lost its customers; the day it succumbed, she had no more breath left. When she felt she was dying, she still found strength to insist on her husband opening both windows. It was very mild, a bright ray of sunshine gilded The Ladies' Paradise, whilst the bed-room of the old house shivered in the shade. Madame Baudu lay there with eyes fixed, full of that vision of the triumphal monument, those clear, limpid windows, behind which a gallop of millions was passing. But slowly her eyes grew dim, invaded by darkness; and when their last gleam had expired in death, they remained wide open, still gazing, and wet with tears.
Once more all the ruined traders of the district followed the funeral procession. There were the brothers Vanpouille, pale at the thought of their December bills, met by a supreme effort which they would never be able to repeat. Bédoré, accompanying his sister, leant on his cane, so full of worry and anxiety that his liver complaint was getting worse every day. Deslignières had had a fit, Piot and Rivoire walked on in silence, with downcast looks, like men entirely played out. And they dared not question each other about those who had disappeared, Quinette, Mademoiselle Tatin, and others, who, in the space of a day, sank, ruined, swept away by the flood of disasters: without counting Robineau, still in bed, with his broken leg. But they pointed with an especial air of interest to the new tradesmen attacked by the plague: Grognet the perfumer, Madame Chadeuil the milliner, Lacassagne the flower-maker, and Naud the boot-maker who were still on their legs, but full of anxiety at thought of the evil which would doubtless sweep them away in their turn. Baudu walked behind the hearse with the same heavy, stolid step as when he had followed his daughter; whilst in the first mourning coach could be seen Bourras's eyes sparkling under his bushy eyebrows and hair of a snowy whiteness.