"Ah! it's true," he murmured, with an astonished look, "that must have been the house. I felt the ground shake. Seeing them on the roof this morning, I closed my door."
Then he made a vague gesture, to intimate that such things no longer interested him. Each time he arrived in front of the pay-desk, he looked at the empty seat, that well-known velvet-covered seat, where his wife and daughter had grown up. Then, when his perpetual walking brought him to the other end, he gazed at the gloom-enveloped shelves, on which a few pieces of cloth were growing more and more mouldy. It was a widowed house; those he loved had disappeared; his business had come to a shameful end; and he was left alone to commune with his dead heart and fallen pride, amidst all these catastrophes. He raised his eyes to the black ceiling, he listened to the sepulchral silence which reigned in the little dining-room, that family nook which he had formerly loved so well, even to its stuffy odour. Not a breath was now heard in the old house, his regular heavy tread made the ancient walls resound, as if he were walking in the tomb of his affections.
At last Denise approached the subject which had brought her. "Uncle," said she, "you can't stay like this. You must come to a decision."
Without stopping he replied: "No doubt; but what would you have me do? I've tried to sell, but no one has come. One of these mornings, I shall shut up shop and go off."
She was aware that a failure was no longer to be feared. The creditors had preferred to come to an understanding in presence of such a long series of misfortunes. Everything paid, the old man would simply find himself in the street, penniless.
"But what will you do, then?" she murmured, seeking some transition in order to arrive at the offer which she dared not make.
"I don't know," he replied. "They'll pick me up all right." He had now changed his route, going from the dining-room to the windows; and every time he came to these windows he cast a mournful glance on the wretchedness of the old show-goods forgotten there. His eyes did not even turn towards the triumphal façade of The Ladies' Paradise, whose architectural lines ran right and left, to both ends of the street. He was thoroughly annihilated, and had not even the strength left him to get angry.
"Listen, uncle," said Denise at last, greatly embarrassed; "perhaps there might be a situation for you." And after a pause she stammered, "Yes, I am charged to offer you a situation as inspector."
"Where?" asked Baudu.
"Why, over the road," she replied; "at our place. Six thousand francs a year; a very easy berth."