Opening day of the great sale
Draft: this translation has not yet been checked against the original by a separate review.
- Written
- published 1883 (written 1882; the story is set in October 1864)
- Place
- Paris
- Language
- French
- Kind of source
- literature
- Reading time
- 5 minutes
- Difficulty
- Moderate
- Intensity
- Low
On the morning of a great sale, a Paris department store hung its entrance hall with carpets from the Ottoman Empire, Persia and India. Over the ceiling went carpets from Smyrna; in one corner lay a heap of cheap rugs, from fifteen francs.
This is fiction. Émile Zola (1840–1902) wrote Au Bonheur des Dames (The Ladies’ Delight) as the eleventh novel of his Rougon-Macquart series, about one family under the Second Empire. It ran as a serial in the newspaper Gil Blas from December 1882 to March 1883 and came out as a book in 1883. The store, its owner Octave Mouret, and the small shopkeepers across the street are invented, and the story runs from October 1864 to 1869. Chapter 4 opens on the day of the big winter sale, the same Monday the heroine, Denise, starts work at the store.
Zola was not a merchant. In February and March 1882 he studied real Paris department stores himself, above all the Bon Marché and the Louvre, and also the Place Clichy store. He drew plans of the Bon Marché and the Louvre, got figures from their managers, and heard from employees about the life of the sales staff. His notes ran to about a hundred pages. He also said he used deliberate errors of date when the story needed them, so the stores of 1882 stand behind a scene set in 1864.
Read the store, the wagons and the carpet display as close, researched description shaped by a novelist. The weather, the people and the feelings are his. He tells the scene from outside, through the store, the street and the jealous shopkeepers.
Watch the language of war and conquest: the “sun of victory,” the store “under arms.” Notice too how the East appears in the carpet room. Zola calls it “barbaric art,” a tent for a “pasha,” plundered from palaces and mosques. These words show how Paris imagined the East and sold it to its customers.
The edited translation, in simplified modern English. Bracketed words were added for clarity; [...] marks a cut. Tap a note number to read the note.
That Monday, October 10, a bright sun broke through the gray clouds like a victory. For a week the clouds had darkened Paris. It had drizzled all night, a fine dust of water whose damp left the streets dirty. But at dawn brisk winds carried the clouds away and the sidewalks dried. The blue sky had the clear cheerfulness of spring.
So from eight o'clock the Bonheur des Dames1 was blazing in the sunshine, in all the glory of its great sale of new winter goods. Flags flew at the door. Lengths of woolen cloth flapped in the cool morning air and filled the Place Gaillon2 with the noise of a fair. Along the two streets, the windows unfolded symphonies of displays, and the clean plate glass made their bright colors brighter still. It was an orgy of color, a joy that burst out into the street. A whole corner of the city was thrown open for buying, and anyone could come and feast their eyes.
But at that hour few people came in: a few busy customers, housewives from the neighborhood, and women who wanted to avoid the afternoon crush. Behind the cloth that decked it like flags, you could feel that the store was empty. It stood under arms, waiting for customers, with its waxed wooden floors and its counters overflowing with goods. The morning crowd hurried past and barely glanced at the windows. On the Rue Neuve-Saint-Augustin and the Place Gaillon, where the carriages were to line up, there were still only two cabs at nine o'clock. Only the people of the neighborhood gathered in groups, in doorways and on street corners, with their noses in the air. Most were small shopkeepers, stirred up by such a show of banners and plumes, and they were full of bitter remarks. What made them angry was one of the four delivery wagons that Mouret3 had just sent out into Paris.4 It stood on the Rue de la Michodière, in front of the shipping office. The wagons were green, trimmed with yellow and red, and their glossy varnished panels flashed gold and purple in the sun. This one was brightly painted and brand new. The name of the store was emblazoned on each side like a coat of arms, and on top was a sign announcing the day's sale. When the last parcels from the day before had been loaded, it drove off behind a splendid trotting horse. Baudu stood in the doorway of the Vieil Elbeuf,5 growing pale. He watched it all the way to the boulevard, as it carried that hated name, the Bonheur des Dames, through the city, shining like a star.
Meanwhile, a few cabs arrived and joined the line. Each time a customer appeared, the store's porters stirred. They stood in a row under the tall doorway, in livery: a light green coat and trousers and a vest striped yellow and red. Inspector Jouve, the retired army captain, was there too, in a frock coat and white tie, wearing his medal.6 He looked like a shop sign for old-fashioned honesty. He welcomed the ladies with grave politeness and bent toward them to point out the departments. Then they disappeared into the entrance hall, which had been turned into an Oriental salon.
So from the doorway on, there was a wonder, a surprise that delighted every one of them. It was Mouret's idea. He was the first to do it. He had just bought a collection of old and new carpets in the Levant,7 on excellent terms. They were the kind of rare carpets that until then only dealers in curiosities had sold, at very high prices. Now he was going to flood the market with them. He was selling them for almost what he had paid, and using them simply for a splendid display that would draw wealthy art lovers to his store. From the middle of the Place Gaillon you could see this Oriental salon. It was made only of carpets and door curtains, which porters had hung under his orders. First, carpets from Smyrna were stretched across the ceiling, their complicated patterns standing out on red backgrounds.8 Then door curtains hung on all four sides. There were curtains from Karamania and Syria, striped with green, yellow, and vermilion, and plainer ones from Diarbékir, rough to the touch like shepherds' cloaks. There were carpets that could serve as wall hangings too: long carpets from Hispahan, Tehran, and Kermancha, and wider ones from Schoumaka and Madras. They were a strange blossoming of peonies and palms, a fantasy let loose in a garden of dreams. On the floor the carpets began again, a litter of thick fleeces. In the center lay a carpet from Agra, an extraordinary piece with a white ground and a wide border of soft blue, where purplish ornaments ran in exquisite designs. Everywhere else, marvels were spread out: carpets from Mecca with a velvety sheen, prayer rugs from Daghestan with their symbolic point,9 and carpets from Kurdistan scattered with flowers in full bloom. Last, in one corner, lay a cheap tumble of carpets from Gheurdès, Coula, and Kircheher, piled up, from fifteen francs. This tent for a rich pasha10 was furnished with armchairs and divans made from camel bags. Some had brightly colored diamonds; others were sprinkled with simple roses. Turkey, Arabia, Persia, and the Indies were all there. Palaces had been emptied, mosques and bazaars plundered. Tawny gold was the main color in the faded old carpets. Their worn tints kept a dark warmth, like a furnace gone out, the fine baked color of an old master's painting. And visions of the Orient floated in the luxury of this barbaric art, amid the strong smell the old wool still kept of the land of vermin and sun.
Notes
- The store is Zola's invention. Its name means “The Ladies' Delight.” back
- A small triangular square in central Paris. Zola puts the store's only door on it, at the corner of the Rue Neuve-Saint-Augustin and the Rue de la Michodière. back
- Octave Mouret, the store's owner and director, who appears in several of Zola's novels. He had inherited the business from his wife. back
- Home delivery was one of the new practices of the big Paris stores. The wagons also carried the store's name around the city. back
- Baudu, uncle of the novel's heroine, Denise, runs the Vieil Elbeuf (“Old Elbeuf”), an old cloth and flannel shop across the street. Elbeuf, in Normandy, was known for woolen cloth. back
- Jouve is one of the store's inspectors, who watch over staff and customers. Zola says earlier that he had been decorated at Constantine, in Algeria. back
- The lands of the eastern Mediterranean, then mostly ruled by the Ottoman Empire. back
- Zola's list, in his spelling. Modern names include Smyrna (İzmir), Karamania (south-central Turkey), Diarbékir (Diyarbakır), Hispahan (Isfahan), Kermancha (Kermanshah), Schoumaka (Shamakhi, Azerbaijan), Madras (Chennai), Gheurdès (Gördes), Coula (Kula), and Kircheher (Kırşehir). back
- A prayer rug's design has a pointed arch, which the person praying turns toward Mecca. back
- A high Ottoman title, given to governors and generals. back
Ce lundi-là, le dix octobre, un clair soleil de victoire perça les nuées grises, qui depuis une semaine assombrissaient Paris. Toute la nuit encore, il avait bruiné, une poussière d'eau dont l'humidité salissait les rues; mais, au petit jour, sous les haleines vives qui emportaient les nuages, les trottoirs s'étaient essuyés; et le ciel bleu avait une gaieté limpide de printemps.
That Monday, the tenth of October, a clear sun of victory pierced the gray clouds, which for a week had been darkening Paris. All night still, it had drizzled, a dust of water whose dampness dirtied the streets; but, at daybreak, under the brisk breaths that carried away the clouds, the sidewalks had wiped themselves dry; and the blue sky had a limpid gaiety of spring.
That Monday, October 10, a bright sun broke through the gray clouds like a victory. For a week the clouds had darkened Paris. It had drizzled all night, a fine dust of water whose damp left the streets dirty. But at dawn brisk winds carried the clouds away and the sidewalks dried. The blue sky had the clear cheerfulness of spring.
Aussi le Bonheur des Dames, dès huit heures, flambait-il aux rayons de ce clair soleil, dans la gloire de sa grande mise en vente des nouveautés d'hiver. Des drapeaux flottaient à la porte, des pièces de lainage battaient l'air frais du matin, animant la place Gaillon d'un vacarme de fête foraine; tandis que, sur les deux rues, les vitrines développaient des symphonies d'étalages, dont la netteté des glaces avivait encore les tons éclatants. C'était comme une débauche de couleurs, une joie de la rue qui crevait là, tout un coin de consommation largement ouvert, et où chacun pouvait aller se réjouir les yeux.
So the Bonheur des Dames, from eight o'clock, was blazing in the rays of this clear sun, in the glory of its great putting-on-sale of winter novelties. Flags were floating at the door, pieces of woolen cloth were beating the fresh morning air, enlivening the place Gaillon with a din of a fairground; while, on the two streets, the display windows unfolded symphonies of displays, whose clearness of the plate glass heightened still more the brilliant tones. It was like a debauch of colors, a joy of the street that burst out there, a whole corner of consumption [buying] widely open, and where everyone could go to delight their eyes.
So from eight o'clock the Bonheur des Dames was blazing in the sunshine, in all the glory of its great sale of new winter goods. Flags flew at the door. Lengths of woolen cloth flapped in the cool morning air and filled the Place Gaillon with the noise of a fair. Along the two streets, the windows unfolded symphonies of displays, and the clean plate glass made their bright colors brighter still. It was an orgy of color, a joy that burst out into the street. A whole corner of the city was thrown open for buying, and anyone could come and feast their eyes.
- The store is Zola's invention. Its name means “The Ladies' Delight.”
- A small triangular square in central Paris. Zola puts the store's only door on it, at the corner of the Rue Neuve-Saint-Augustin and the Rue de la Michodière.
Mais, à cette heure, il entrait peu de monde, quelques rares clientes affairées, des ménagères du voisinage, des femmes désireuses d'éviter l'écrasement de l'après-midi Derrière les étoffes qui le pavoisaient, on sentait le magasin vide, sous les armes et attendant la pratique, avec ses parquets cirés, ses comptoirs débordant de marchandises. La foule pressée du matin donnait à peine un coup d'œil aux vitrines, sans ralentir le pas. Rue Neuve-Saint-Augustin et place Gaillon, où les voitures devaient se ranger, il n'y avait encore, à neuf heures, que deux fiacres. Seuls, les habitants du quartier, les petits commerçants surtout, remués par un tel déploiement de banderoles et de panaches, formaient des groupes, sous les portes, aux coins des trottoirs, le nez levé, pleins de remarques amères.
But, at this hour, few people were going in, some rare busy customers, housewives of the neighborhood, women wishing to avoid the crush of the afternoon[.] Behind the fabrics that decked it with flags, one felt the store empty, under arms and waiting for custom, with its waxed parquet floors, its counters overflowing with merchandise. The hurried crowd of the morning gave barely a glance at the windows, without slowing its pace. Rue Neuve-Saint-Augustin and place Gaillon, where the carriages were to line up, there were still, at nine o'clock, only two cabs. Alone, the inhabitants of the quarter, the small shopkeepers above all, stirred by such a display of streamers and plumes, were forming groups, in the doorways, at the corners of the sidewalks, noses raised, full of bitter remarks.
But at that hour few people came in: a few busy customers, housewives from the neighborhood, and women who wanted to avoid the afternoon crush. Behind the cloth that decked it like flags, you could feel that the store was empty. It stood under arms, waiting for customers, with its waxed wooden floors and its counters overflowing with goods. The morning crowd hurried past and barely glanced at the windows. On the Rue Neuve-Saint-Augustin and the Place Gaillon, where the carriages were to line up, there were still only two cabs at nine o'clock. Only the people of the neighborhood gathered in groups, in doorways and on street corners, with their noses in the air. Most were small shopkeepers, stirred up by such a show of banners and plumes, and they were full of bitter remarks.
Ce qui les indignait, c'était, rue de la Michodière, devant le bureau du départ, une des quatre voitures que Mouret venait de lancer dans Paris : des voitures à fond vert, rechampies de jaune et de rouge, et dont les panneaux fortement vernis prenaient au soleil des éclats d'or et de pourpre. Celle-là, avec son bariolage tout neuf, écartelée du nom de la maison sur chacune de ses faces, et surmontée en outre d'une pancarte où la mise en vente du jour était annoncée, finit par s'éloigner au trot d'un cheval superbe, lorsqu'on eut achevé de l'emplir des paquets restés de la veille ; et, jusqu'au boulevard, Baudu, qui blêmissait sur le seuil du Vieil Elbeuf, la regarda rouler, promenant à travers la ville ce nom détesté du Bonheur des Dames, dans un rayonnement d'astre.
What made them indignant was, rue de la Michodière, in front of the dispatch office, one of the four wagons that Mouret had just launched into Paris: wagons with a green ground, picked out in yellow and red, and whose heavily varnished panels took on in the sun flashes of gold and purple. That one, with its brand-new motley, quartered [as in a coat of arms] with the name of the house on each of its faces, and topped besides with a placard on which the day's sale was announced, ended by moving off at the trot of a superb horse, when they had finished filling it with the parcels left over from the day before; and, as far as the boulevard, Baudu, who was turning pale on the threshold of the Vieil Elbeuf, watched it roll, carrying through the city this hated name of the Bonheur des Dames, in a radiance of a star.
What made them angry was one of the four delivery wagons that Mouret had just sent out into Paris. It stood on the Rue de la Michodière, in front of the shipping office. The wagons were green, trimmed with yellow and red, and their glossy varnished panels flashed gold and purple in the sun. This one was brightly painted and brand new. The name of the store was emblazoned on each side like a coat of arms, and on top was a sign announcing the day's sale. When the last parcels from the day before had been loaded, it drove off behind a splendid trotting horse. Baudu stood in the doorway of the Vieil Elbeuf, growing pale. He watched it all the way to the boulevard, as it carried that hated name, the Bonheur des Dames, through the city, shining like a star.
- Octave Mouret, the store's owner and director, who appears in several of Zola's novels. He had inherited the business from his wife.
- Home delivery was one of the new practices of the big Paris stores. The wagons also carried the store's name around the city.
- Baudu, uncle of the novel's heroine, Denise, runs the Vieil Elbeuf (“Old Elbeuf”), an old cloth and flannel shop across the street. Elbeuf, in Normandy, was known for woolen cloth.
Cependant, quelques fiacres arrivaient et prenaient la file. Chaque fois qu'une cliente se présentait, il y avait un mouvement parmi les garçons de magasin, rangés sous la haute porte, habillés d'une livrée, l'habit et le pantalon vert clair, le gilet rayé jaune et rouge. Et l'inspecteur Jouve, l'ancien capitaine retraité, était là, en redingote et en cravate blanche, avec sa décoration, comme une enseigne de vieille probité, accueillant les dames d'un air gravement poli, se penchant vers elles pour leur indiquer les rayons. Puis, elles disparaissaient dans le vestibule, changé en un salon oriental.
Meanwhile, some cabs were arriving and taking their place in the line. Each time a customer presented herself, there was a movement among the store porters, lined up under the high door, dressed in a livery, the coat and trousers light green, the waistcoat striped yellow and red. And Inspector Jouve, the old retired captain, was there, in frock coat and white cravat, with his decoration, like a signboard of old honesty, welcoming the ladies with a gravely polite air, bending toward them to show them the departments. Then they disappeared into the vestibule, changed into an oriental salon.
Meanwhile, a few cabs arrived and joined the line. Each time a customer appeared, the store's porters stirred. They stood in a row under the tall doorway, in livery: a light green coat and trousers and a vest striped yellow and red. Inspector Jouve, the retired army captain, was there too, in a frock coat and white tie, wearing his medal. He looked like a shop sign for old-fashioned honesty. He welcomed the ladies with grave politeness and bent toward them to point out the departments. Then they disappeared into the entrance hall, which had been turned into an Oriental salon.
- Jouve is one of the store's inspectors, who watch over staff and customers. Zola says earlier that he had been decorated at Constantine, in Algeria.
Dès la porte, c'était ainsi un émerveillement, une surprise qui, toutes, les ravissait. Mouret avait eu cette idée. Le premier, il venait d'acheter dans le Levant, à des conditions excellentes, une collection de tapis anciens et de tapis neufs, de ces tapis rares que, seuls, les marchands de curiosités vendaient jusque-là, très cher; et il allait en inonder le marché, il les cédait presque à prix coûtant, en tirait simplement un décor splendide, qui devait attirer chez lui la haute clientèle de l'art. Du milieu de la place Gaillon, on apercevait ce salon oriental, fait uniquement de tapis et de portières, que des garçons avaient accrochés sous ses ordres.
From the door, it was thus a wonderment, a surprise that, all of them, delighted them. Mouret had had this idea. The first, he had just bought in the Levant, on excellent terms, a collection of old carpets and new carpets, of those rare carpets that, alone, the dealers in curiosities had sold until then, very dear; and he was going to flood the market with them, he was letting them go almost at cost price, drawing from them simply a splendid decoration, which was to attract to his house the high clientele of art. From the middle of the place Gaillon, one could see this oriental salon, made only of carpets and door curtains, which porters had hung under his orders.
So from the doorway on, there was a wonder, a surprise that delighted every one of them. It was Mouret's idea. He was the first to do it. He had just bought a collection of old and new carpets in the Levant, on excellent terms. They were the kind of rare carpets that until then only dealers in curiosities had sold, at very high prices. Now he was going to flood the market with them. He was selling them for almost what he had paid, and using them simply for a splendid display that would draw wealthy art lovers to his store. From the middle of the Place Gaillon you could see this Oriental salon. It was made only of carpets and door curtains, which porters had hung under his orders.
- The lands of the eastern Mediterranean, then mostly ruled by the Ottoman Empire.
D'abord, au plafond, étaient tendus des tapis de Smyrne, dont les dessins compliqués se détachaient sur des fonds rouges. Puis, des quatre côtés, pendaient des portières : les portières de Karamanie et de Syrie, zébrées de vert, de jaune et de vermillon; les portières de Diarbékir, plus communes, rudes à la main, comme des sayons de berger; et encore des tapis pouvant servir de tentures, les longs tapis d'Hispahan, de Téhéran et de Kermancha, les tapis plus larges de Schoumaka et de Madras, floraison étrange de pivoines et de palmes, fantaisie lâchée dans le jardin du rêve.
First, on the ceiling, were stretched carpets of Smyrna, whose complicated designs stood out on red grounds. Then, on the four sides, hung door curtains: the door curtains of Karamania and of Syria, striped with green, yellow and vermilion; the door curtains of Diarbékir, more common, rough to the hand, like shepherds' [smocks? cloaks]; and also carpets that could serve as hangings, the long carpets of Hispahan, of Tehran and of Kermancha, the wider carpets of Schoumaka and of Madras, strange flowering of peonies and palms, fantasy let loose in the garden of dream.
First, carpets from Smyrna were stretched across the ceiling, their complicated patterns standing out on red backgrounds. Then door curtains hung on all four sides. There were curtains from Karamania and Syria, striped with green, yellow, and vermilion, and plainer ones from Diarbékir, rough to the touch like shepherds' cloaks. There were carpets that could serve as wall hangings too: long carpets from Hispahan, Tehran, and Kermancha, and wider ones from Schoumaka and Madras. They were a strange blossoming of peonies and palms, a fantasy let loose in a garden of dreams.
- Zola's list, in his spelling. Modern names include Smyrna (İzmir), Karamania (south-central Turkey), Diarbékir (Diyarbakır), Hispahan (Isfahan), Kermancha (Kermanshah), Schoumaka (Shamakhi, Azerbaijan), Madras (Chennai), Gheurdès (Gördes), Coula (Kula), and Kircheher (Kırşehir).
A terre, les tapis recommençaient, une jonchée de toisons grasses : il y avait, au centre, un tapis d'Agra, une pièce extraordinaire à fond blanc et à large bordure bleu tendre, où couraient des ornements violâtres, d'une imagination exquise; partout, ensuite, s'étalaient des merveilles, les tapis de la Mecque aux reflets de velours, les tapis de prière du Daghestan à la pointe symbolique, les tapis du Kurdistan semés de fleurs épanouies; enfin, dans un coin, un écroulement à bon marché, des tapis de Gheurdès, de Coula et de Kircheher, en tas, depuis quinze francs.
On the ground, the carpets began again, a strewing of thick fleeces: there was, in the center, a carpet of Agra, an extraordinary piece with a white ground and a wide border of soft blue, where ran purplish ornaments, of an exquisite imagination; everywhere, next, were spread out marvels, the carpets of Mecca with velvet reflections, the prayer carpets of Daghestan with the symbolic point, the carpets of Kurdistan sown with opened flowers; finally, in a corner, a cheap tumble, carpets of Gheurdès, of Coula and of Kircheher, in a heap, from fifteen francs.
On the floor the carpets began again, a litter of thick fleeces. In the center lay a carpet from Agra, an extraordinary piece with a white ground and a wide border of soft blue, where purplish ornaments ran in exquisite designs. Everywhere else, marvels were spread out: carpets from Mecca with a velvety sheen, prayer rugs from Daghestan with their symbolic point, and carpets from Kurdistan scattered with flowers in full bloom. Last, in one corner, lay a cheap tumble of carpets from Gheurdès, Coula, and Kircheher, piled up, from fifteen francs.
- A prayer rug's design has a pointed arch, which the person praying turns toward Mecca.
Cette tente de pacha somptueux était meublée de fauteuils et de divans, faits avec des sacs de chameau, les uns coupés de losanges bariolés, les autres plantés de roses naïves. La Turquie, l'Arabie, la Perse, les Indes étaient là. On avait vidé les palais, dévalisé les mosquées et les bazars. L'or fauve dominait, dans l'effacement des tapis anciens, dont les teintes fanées gardaient une chaleur sombre, un fondu de fournaise éteinte, d'une belle couleur cuite de vieux maître. Et des visions d'Orient flottaient sous le luxe de cet art barbare, au milieu de l'odeur forte que les vieilles laines avaient gardée du pays de la vermine et du soleil.
This tent of a sumptuous pasha was furnished with armchairs and divans, made with camel bags, some cut with motley lozenges, the others planted with naive roses. Turkey, Arabia, Persia, the Indies were there. They had emptied the palaces, plundered the mosques and the bazaars. Tawny gold dominated, in the fading of the old carpets, whose faded tints kept a somber warmth, a blending of a furnace gone out, of a fine baked color of an old master. And visions of the Orient floated beneath the luxury of this barbaric art, amid the strong odor that the old wools had kept from the land of vermin and of sun.
This tent for a rich pasha was furnished with armchairs and divans made from camel bags. Some had brightly colored diamonds; others were sprinkled with simple roses. Turkey, Arabia, Persia, and the Indies were all there. Palaces had been emptied, mosques and bazaars plundered. Tawny gold was the main color in the faded old carpets. Their worn tints kept a dark warmth, like a furnace gone out, the fine baked color of an old master's painting. And visions of the Orient floated in the luxury of this barbaric art, amid the strong smell the old wool still kept of the land of vermin and sun.
- A high Ottoman title, given to governors and generals.
Page images of the original object or of the printed edition, from the libraries and archives that hold them. The pages shown are copied here where the holder marks them public domain; titles link to the holder's own viewer. Click a page to see it full size.
Zola, Au Bonheur des Dames, Paris 1895
UCLA Library, via Internet Archive. pp. 103–106. No rights statement on the record; published 1895 (public domain in the US).
The printing our text follows.
New translation from the French text of Émile Zola, Au Bonheur des Dames (Paris: Charpentier et Fasquelle, 1895), pages 103–106: the opening of chapter 4, about 900 words of French, with nothing cut. We use this 1895 printing and have not compared it with the first edition of 1883.
Zola’s long sentences are split. Place and store names are kept in his French and his spelling, including the carpet places; a footnote gives modern names. His Orientalist terms (“Oriental salon,” “pasha,” “barbaric art,” “the land of vermin and sun”) are translated as he wrote them.
- Original
- Text as printed in the named edition or on the object, read from page images. Edition: Émile Zola, Au Bonheur des Dames, Les Rougon-Macquart (Paris: G. Charpentier et E. Fasquelle, 1895), chapter 4, pp. 103–106. First published Paris: G. Charpentier, 1883; not compared. Digital text: Internet Archive item aubonheurdesdame00zola_1 (UCLA Library copy), OCR text, extracted by code. Not yet read against the page images. Zola’s text only.
- Transliterated
- Not needed: the original is in the Latin alphabet
- Close English
- Close translation drafted by Claude (Anthropic), kept as a working draft
- Simplified English
- Drafted by Claude (Anthropic) from the original. Not yet checked by a separate review.
- Editor’s review
- Not yet.
- Specialist review
- Not yet. Readings a specialist should confirm are listed for later review.
- Rights
- Original: public domain. Edition: public domain.
Sources for the notes
- Zola, Émile. Au Bonheur des Dames. Les Rougon-Macquart. Paris: G. Charpentier et E. Fasquelle, 1895. Internet Archive (UCLA Library copy). https://archive.org/details/aubonheurdesdame00zola_1. Record, and OCR text of chapters 1, 2 and 4.
- Bibliothèque nationale de France. “Au Bonheur des dames: le ‘poème de l’activité moderne’.” Classes BnF dossier (PDF). https://classes.bnf.fr/pdf/Bonheur-des-dames.pdf. For Zola’s research in the stores, the setting and the story’s dates.
- Encyclopædia Universalis. “Au Bonheur des Dames, Émile Zola (fiche de lecture).” https://www.universalis.fr/encyclopedie/au-bonheur-des-dames/. For the serialization and publication, the place in the series, and Mouret.