That evening, when Denise went up to bed, she felt so faint that she was obliged to lean against the partition in the corridor under the zinc roof. And when she was inside her room, with the door closed, she fell down on the bed; her feet pained her so much. For a long time she continued gazing with a stupid air at the dressing-table, the wardrobe, all the lodginghouse-like bareness. This, then, was where she was going to live; and her first day--an abominable, endless day--filled her with sore distress. She would never have the courage to go through such another. Then she perceived that she was dressed in silk; and this uniform depressed her. She was childish enough, before unpacking her box, to put on her old woollen gown, which hung over the back of a chair. But when she had once more donned this poor garment a painful emotion choked her; the sobs which she had kept back all day suddenly found vent in a flood of hot tears. She fell back on the bed, weeping at the thought of the two children, and she wept on and on, without even the strength to take off her boots, so completely was she overcome with fatigue and grief.
The next day Denise had scarcely been downstairs half an hour, when Madame Aurélie said to her in her sharp voice: "You are wanted at the director's office, mademoiselle."
The girl found Mouret alone, in his spacious room hung with green rep. He had suddenly remembered that "unkempt girl," as Bourdoncle called her; and he, who usually detested the part of fault-finder, had thought of sending for her and stirring her up a bit, if she were still dressed in the style of a country wench. On the previous day, despite his jocularity, he had experienced a feeling of wounded pride, on seeing the elegance of one of his saleswomen questioned in Madame Desforges's presence. He harboured a mixed sentiment with regard to Denise, a commingling, as it were, of sympathy and anger.
"We engaged you, mademoiselle," he commenced, "out of regard for your uncle, and you must not put us under the sad necessity----"
But all at once he stopped. On the other side of his table stood Denise, upright, serious, and pale. Her silk gown was no longer too big for her, but fitted tightly to her pretty figure, displayed the pure lines of her virgin shoulders; and if her hair, knotted in thick tresses, still appeared somewhat wild, she had at least tried to keep it in order. After falling asleep with her clothes on, her eyes red with weeping, she had, on waking at about four o'clock, felt ashamed of her nervous sensibility, and had immediately set about taking-in her dress; besides spending an hour before the tiny looking-glass, combing her hair, which she was unable to reduce as much as she would have liked to.