Read Online The Ladies' Paradise (BBC tie-in) (Oxford World's Classics) by Emile Zola, Brian Nelson - Free Book Online
Authors: Emile Zola, Brian Nelson
Ads: Link
department, and the fat one’s a manufacturer from Lyons.’
Denise gathered that Vinçard was talking up his shop to Robineau, the assistant from the Ladies’ Paradise. He was giving his word of honour in a frank, open way, with the facility of a man who could take any number of oaths without any trouble. According to him, the shop was a gold-mine; and, resplendent as he was with good health, he broke off to whine and complain about the infernal pains which were forcing him to give up making his fortune. But Robineau, highly strung and anxious, interrupted him impatiently: he knew about the crisis the trade was going through, and named a shop specializing in silks which had already been ruined by the proximity of the Paradise. Vinçard, extremely angry, raised his voice.
‘No wonder! That old chump Vabre * was bound to come a cropper. His wife spent everything he earned … Besides, we’re more than five hundred yards away, whereas Vabre was right next door to it.’
Gaujean, the silk manufacturer, chimed in. Once more their voices were lowered. Gaujean was accusing the big stores of ruining the French textile industry; three or four of them were dictating to it, completely ruling the market; and he insinuated that the only way to resist them was to encourage small businesses, especially those which specialized, for the future belonged to them. For this reason he was offering Robineau plenty of credit.
‘Look how the Paradise has treated you!’ he repeated. ‘They take no account of services rendered, they’re just machines for exploiting people … They promised you the job of buyer ages ago, and then Bouthemont, who was an outsider and had no right to it, got it straight away.’
Robineau was still smarting from this injustice. All the same, he was hesitating about setting up in business himself, explaining that the money was not his; his wife had inherited sixty thousand francs, and he was full of scruples about this sum,saying that he would rather cut both his hands off on the spot than risk the money in bad business.
‘No. I haven’t made up my mind,’ he concluded at last. ‘Give me time to think it over; we’ll discuss it again.’
‘As you like,’ said Vinçard, hiding his disappointment with a smile. ‘It’s not in my interest to sell. You know, if it wasn’t for my rheumatism …’
And returning to the middle of the shop he asked:
‘What can I do for you, Monsieur Baudu?’
The draper, who had been listening with one ear, introduced Denise, told Vinçard as much as he thought necessary of her story, and said that she had been working in the provinces for two years.
‘And as I hear that you’re looking for a good salesgirl…’
Vinçard pretended to be terribly sorry.
‘Oh! What bad luck! I have indeed been looking for a salesgirl all week. But I’ve just engaged one, less than two hours ago.’
A silence ensued. Denise seemed totally dismayed. Then Robineau, who was looking at her with interest, no doubt touched by her poor appearance, volunteered some information.
‘I know they want someone at our place, in the ladieswear department.’
Baudu could not suppress a heartfelt exclamation:
‘At your place! My goodness—no!’
Then he stopped, embarrassed. Denise had turned very red; she would never dare to enter that huge shop! And yet the idea of being there filled her with pride.
‘Why not?’ asked Robineau, surprised. ‘It would be a good opening for her … I’d advise her to go and see Madame Aurélie, the buyer, tomorrow morning. The worst that can happen is that they won’t take her.’
The draper, in order to hide his inner revulsion, began to chatter vaguely: he knew Madame Aurélie, or at any rate her husband Lhomme, the cashier, a fat man who had had his right arm cut off by an omnibus. Then, suddenly coming back to Denise, he said:
‘In any case, it’s her affair, not mine … She’s quite free …’
And he went out, after saying goodbye to Gaujean
Denise gathered that Vinçard was talking up his shop to Robineau, the assistant from the Ladies’ Paradise. He was giving his word of honour in a frank, open way, with the facility of a man who could take any number of oaths without any trouble. According to him, the shop was a gold-mine; and, resplendent as he was with good health, he broke off to whine and complain about the infernal pains which were forcing him to give up making his fortune. But Robineau, highly strung and anxious, interrupted him impatiently: he knew about the crisis the trade was going through, and named a shop specializing in silks which had already been ruined by the proximity of the Paradise. Vinçard, extremely angry, raised his voice.
‘No wonder! That old chump Vabre * was bound to come a cropper. His wife spent everything he earned … Besides, we’re more than five hundred yards away, whereas Vabre was right next door to it.’
Gaujean, the silk manufacturer, chimed in. Once more their voices were lowered. Gaujean was accusing the big stores of ruining the French textile industry; three or four of them were dictating to it, completely ruling the market; and he insinuated that the only way to resist them was to encourage small businesses, especially those which specialized, for the future belonged to them. For this reason he was offering Robineau plenty of credit.
‘Look how the Paradise has treated you!’ he repeated. ‘They take no account of services rendered, they’re just machines for exploiting people … They promised you the job of buyer ages ago, and then Bouthemont, who was an outsider and had no right to it, got it straight away.’
Robineau was still smarting from this injustice. All the same, he was hesitating about setting up in business himself, explaining that the money was not his; his wife had inherited sixty thousand francs, and he was full of scruples about this sum,saying that he would rather cut both his hands off on the spot than risk the money in bad business.
‘No. I haven’t made up my mind,’ he concluded at last. ‘Give me time to think it over; we’ll discuss it again.’
‘As you like,’ said Vinçard, hiding his disappointment with a smile. ‘It’s not in my interest to sell. You know, if it wasn’t for my rheumatism …’
And returning to the middle of the shop he asked:
‘What can I do for you, Monsieur Baudu?’
The draper, who had been listening with one ear, introduced Denise, told Vinçard as much as he thought necessary of her story, and said that she had been working in the provinces for two years.
‘And as I hear that you’re looking for a good salesgirl…’
Vinçard pretended to be terribly sorry.
‘Oh! What bad luck! I have indeed been looking for a salesgirl all week. But I’ve just engaged one, less than two hours ago.’
A silence ensued. Denise seemed totally dismayed. Then Robineau, who was looking at her with interest, no doubt touched by her poor appearance, volunteered some information.
‘I know they want someone at our place, in the ladieswear department.’
Baudu could not suppress a heartfelt exclamation:
‘At your place! My goodness—no!’
Then he stopped, embarrassed. Denise had turned very red; she would never dare to enter that huge shop! And yet the idea of being there filled her with pride.
‘Why not?’ asked Robineau, surprised. ‘It would be a good opening for her … I’d advise her to go and see Madame Aurélie, the buyer, tomorrow morning. The worst that can happen is that they won’t take her.’
The draper, in order to hide his inner revulsion, began to chatter vaguely: he knew Madame Aurélie, or at any rate her husband Lhomme, the cashier, a fat man who had had his right arm cut off by an omnibus. Then, suddenly coming back to Denise, he said:
‘In any case, it’s her affair, not mine … She’s quite free …’
And he went out, after saying goodbye to Gaujean
Similar Books
