The Ladies' Paradise

But on observing Mouret's febrile air he understood the situation and calmed down. His face was beaming with delight; and after a short silence he resumed: "You've made up your mind, haven't you? Well, I approve your decision."

All at once, however, Mouret planted himself before him, and in his terrible voice thundered: "I say, my man, you're rather too lively. You think me played out, don't you? and you feel hungry. But be careful, I'm not one to be swallowed up, you know!"

Discountenanced by the sharp attack of this wonderful fellow, who guessed everything, Bourdoncle stammered: "What now? Are you joking? I who have always admired you so much!"

"Don't tell lies!" replied Mouret, more violently than ever. "Just listen, we were stupid to entertain the superstition that marriage would ruin us. Why, is it not the necessary health, the very strength and order of life? Well, my dear fellow, I'm going to marry her, and I'll pitch you all out of doors at the slightest movement. Yes, you'll go and get paid like the rest, Bourdoncle."

And with a gesture he dismissed him. Bourdoncle felt himself condemned, swept away, in this victory gained by woman. He went off. Denise was just coming in, and he bowed to her with profound respect, his head swimming.

"Ah! you've come at last!" said Mouret gently.

Denise was pale with emotion. She had just experienced another grief, Deloche had informed her of his dismissal, and when she had tried to retain him, offering to speak in his favour, he had obstinately declined to struggle against his bad luck; he wanted to disappear, he said, what was the use of staying? Why should he interfere with people who were happy? Then Denise had bade him a sisterly farewell, her eyes full of tears. Did she not herself long to sink into oblivion? Everything was now about to finish, and she asked nothing more of her exhausted strength than the courage to insist on the separation. In a few minutes, if she could only be valiant enough to crush her heart, she would be able to go away alone, and weep unseen.

"You wished to see me, sir," she said in her calm voice. "In fact, I intended to come and thank you for all your kindness to me."

On entering, she had perceived the million on the table, and the display of that money wounded her. Above her, as if watching the scene, was the portrait of Madame Hédouin, in its gilded frame, and with the eternal smile of its painted lips.

"You are still resolved to leave us?" asked Mouret, in a trembling voice.

"Yes, sir. I must."

Then he took her hands, and, in an outburst of tenderness, after the long coldness he had imposed on himself exclaimed: "And if I asked you to marry me, Denise, would you still leave?"

But she rapidly drew her hands away, struggling as if under the influence of a great grief. "Oh! Monsieur Mouret! Pray say no more. Oh! don't cause me even greater pain than before! I cannot! I cannot! Heaven is my witness that I was going away to avoid such a misfortune!"

She continued to defend herself in broken sentences. Had she not already suffered too much from the gossip of the house? Did he wish her to pass in the eyes of others and his own for a worthless woman? No, no, she would be strong, she would certainly prevent him doing such a foolish thing. He, tortured, listened to her, repeating in a passionate tone: "I wish it. I wish it!"

"No, it's impossible. And my brothers? I have sworn not to marry. I cannot bring you those children, can I?"

"They shall be my brothers, too. Say yes, Denise."

"No, no, leave me. You are torturing me!"

Little by little he was losing his strength; this last obstacle drove him frantic. What! She still refused even at this price! In the distance he heard the clamour of his three thousand employees building up his immense fortune. And that idiotic million lying there! He suffered from it as from a sort of irony, he could have kicked it into the street.

"Go, then!" he cried at last in a flood of tears. "Go and join the man you love. That's the reason, isn't it? You warned me, I ought to have known it, and not have tormented you any further."

She stood there thunderstruck by the violence of this despair. Her own heart was bursting. And then, with the impetuosity of a child, she threw herself on his neck, sobbing also, and stammering: "Oh! Monsieur Mouret, it's you I love!"

A last murmur was rising from The Ladies' Paradise, the distant acclamation of a multitude. Madame Hédouin's portrait was still smiling, with its painted lips; Mouret had fallen on his table, on the million which he could no longer see. He did not quit Denise, but clasped her to his breast in a desperate embrace, telling her that she might now go, that she could spend a month at Valognes which would silence everybody, and that then he would go to fetch her himself, and bring her back, all-powerful, as his wedded wife.

notes

1

I find that Brunet who played the part of M. Calicot wore the following typical costume: high boots with spurs, white trousers, a buff waistcoat and a frock coat made of a green and white "mixture" —chicorée à la crême, as the tailors of those days termed it.

2

In the great Paris magasins de nouveautés such as the Louvre and Bon Marché there have been at various stages numerous intéressés, that is partners of a kind who whilst entitled to some share of the profits, exercise but a strictly limited control in the management of the establishment's affairs. —Trans.

3

This is at the present day the Rue du Quatre Septembre. Napoleon III. gave as the name of the new thoroughfare the date of his coronation (Dec. 10); and after Sedan the Republican government ironically retorted by altering the name to the date of his downfall (Sept. 4).

4

After all, this is only £12,000 or about a quarter of the amount which a single English firm of soap-manufacturers spends in advertising every year.

5

The manager of one of the great London drapery houses was telling me, recently, that the same kind of thing is far less infrequent than might be imagined among certain English women of fashion. And he added that these affairs are as a rule hushed up, even as they are hushed up in Paris. Trans.