Little by little, at the end of a few days, in her conversations of
an evening, the damp, obscure shop in the arcade became a palace; she
pictured it to herself, so far as her memory served her, as convenient,
spacious, tranquil, and replete with a thousand inestimable advantages.
"Ah! my dear Therese," said she, "you will see how happy we shall be in
that nook! There are three beautiful rooms upstairs. The arcade is
full of people. We will make charming displays. There is no fear of our
feeling dull."
But she did not stop there. All her instinct of a former shopkeeper
was awakened. She gave advice to Therese, beforehand, as to buying and
selling, and posted her up in all the tricks of small tradespeople.
At length, the family quitted the house beside the Seine, and on the
evening of the same day, were installed in the Arcade of the Pont Neuf.
When Therese entered the shop, where in future she was to live, it
seemed to her that she was descending into the clammy soil of a grave.
She felt quite disheartened, and shivered with fear. She looked at the
dirty, damp gallery, visited the shop, and ascending to the first floor,
walked round each room. These bare apartments, without furniture, looked
frightful in their solitude and dilapidation.
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