"But the same thing happened to me," repeated Pauline. "Come, come, I'm older than you, I'm over twenty-six, though I don't look it. Just tell me your little troubles."
Thereupon Denise yielded to this friendship so frankly offered. She sat down in her petticoat, with an old shawl over her shoulders, near Pauline in full dress; and an interesting gossip ensued.
It was freezing in the room, the cold seemed to run down the bare prison-like walls; but they were so fully taken up by their conversation that they did not notice that their fingers were almost frost-bitten. Little by little, Denise opened her heart entirely, spoke of Jean and Pépé, and of how grievously the money question tortured her; which led them both to abuse the young ladies in the mantle department. Pauline relieved her mind. "Oh, the hussies!" said she, "if they treated you in a proper way, you might make more than a hundred francs a month."
"Everybody is down on me, and I'm sure I don't know why," answered Denise, beginning to cry. "Look at Monsieur Bourdoncle, he's always watching me, trying to find me in fault just as if I were in his way. Old Jouve is about the only one——"
The other interrupted her. "What, that old ape of an inspector! Ah! my dear, don't you trust him. He may display his decoration as much as he likes, but there's a story about something that happened to him in our department. But what a child you are to grieve like this! What a misfortune it is to be so sensitive! Of course, what is happening to you happens to every one; they are making you pay your footing."
Then carried away by her good heart she caught hold of Denise's hands and kissed her. The money-question was a graver one. Certainly a poor girl could not support her two brothers, pay the little one's board and lodging, and stand treat for the big one's sweethearts with the few paltry sous she picked up from the others' cast-off customers; for it was to be feared that she would not get any salary until business improved in March.
"Listen to me, it's impossible for you to live in this way any longer. If I were you——" said Pauline.
But a noise in the corridor stopped her. It was probably Marguerite, who was accused of prowling about at night to spy upon the others. Pauline, who was still pressing her friend's hand, looked at her for a moment in silence, listening. Then, with an air of affectionate conviction, she began to whisper to her.
Denise did not understand at first, and when she did, she withdrew her hands, looking very confused by what her friend had told her. "Oh! no," she replied simply.
"Then," continued Pauline, "you'll never manage, I tell you so, plainly. Here are the figures: forty francs for the little one, a five-franc piece now and again for the big one; and then there's yourself, you can't always go about dressed like a pauper, with shoes that make the other girls laugh at you; yes, really, your shoes do you a deal of harm. It would be much better to do as I tell you."