In this passage, Zola employs a metaphor of being “devoured” and visual imagery to describe Denise's experience of feeling scrutinized by her colleagues in The Ladies' Paradise:
Her eyes still on the street, Denise felt herself being devoured. But she was not angry; she had not thought either of them beautiful, neither the tall one with her bun of red hair hanging down her horse-like neck, nor the short one with the sour-milk complexion which made her flat and seemingly boneless face look flabby.
The metaphor of being "devoured" as Zola uses it here refers to the intrusive and critical way the other shop-girls look at Denise. It implies aggression and malice, as if their eyes are tearing her apart in order to eat her flesh. However, it's quite clear that Denise remains unaffected by their mean stares, indicating her inner strength and self-assurance even at this early point in the novel. Denise is not worried or “angry” about their attention because she isn’t threatened by these other women. Their unflattering descriptions—one with a "horse-like neck" and the other with a "sour-milk complexion"—make their scrutiny seem petty and insignificant rather than actually troublesome or dangerous. Further to this, the visual imagery here doesn't just paint a picture of these women; it also reflects their jealous attitude. When someone is described as “sour,” it often means that they are reacting in a bitter or jealous way to something good happening to another person. These women are scrutinizing and “devouring” Denise in order to find flaws in her, but she isn’t worried that they will succeed.
Zola uses a metaphor and several similes referring to frozen water to illustrate the exhaustion Lienárd and the other shopkeepers experience after the climactic events of the sale:
Liénard was dozing on a sea of materials in which some half-destroyed stacks of cloth were still standing, like ruined houses about to be carried away by an overflowing river; further along, the white linen had snowed all over the ground, and one stumbled against ice-flows of table-napkins and walked on the soft flakes of handkerchiefs.
The metaphor in this passage depicts Liénard dozing in the middle of a “sea of materials.” This “sea” refers to the vast expanse of merchandise that floods the store and is carried out by customers in the frenzied sales. There’s so much of it that it seems to have behaved like an untamed body of water, bursting its banks and crushing the buildings around it. The “sea” of remaining goods envelops Liénard. Where previously everything was in perfect order, after the sale, the ravenous hordes of shoppers have thrown almost everything that’s left to the ground. The comparison to "ruined houses" in the simile just after this paints a vivid picture of the aftermath of this destructive force. Even though it's an enormously successful day for the store, it looks as if it has experienced a natural disaster. Piles of leftovers teeter like “ruined buildings,” and the shopkeepers pass out from exhaustion between them.
The "ice-flows of table-napkins" and "soft flakes of handkerchiefs" continue this metaphorical “natural disaster” imagery. Zola’s language here suggests that the sale, like a force of nature, is both creative and destructive. Like glaciers refigure the land they creep over, the sales reshape the landscape of the store. Even after this hectic buying spree, the treasures of The Ladies’ Paradise are not exhausted. In fact, there’s so much merchandise left that it carpets the floor like snow, with small white “flakes” of handkerchiefs dotting the ground.
The city of Paris sleeps like a satiated ogre after the frenzied sale at the department store. Zola employs a metaphor and auditory imagery to evoke this temporarily peaceful scene:
Outside nothing could be heard but the rattle of the last cabs of Paris, the snore of a replete ogre digesting the linens and cloths, the silks and laces, with which he had been gorged since the morning.
The metaphor of Paris as a "replete ogre digesting the linens and cloths, the silks and laces" gives the reader a vivid image of the city's consumption during the sale at The Ladies' Paradise. By describing the city as an ogre, Zola suggests that Paris, much like a voracious giant, has feasted on the products of capitalism and is now sleeping the carnage of the sale off. The use of the terms “gorged” and "replete" indicates satisfaction and fullness: the sale has temporarily satiated Paris’s voracious hunger for goods and services.
The “snoring” of the ogre is reflected in the auditory imagery of the rattling cabs, suggesting that even the city's transportation is part of this collective, post-sale exhaustion. Every aspect of Paris life is implicated in the sale at The Ladies' Paradise. The contrast between the intensity of the sale and its quiet aftermath is eerie. The cabs' "snoring" sound serves as a reminder of the frenetic energy of the day, now subsided and temporarily resting.
In Chapter 5, Zola demonstrates just how limited Denise's understanding of the world of Paris outside the department store is. He does so through the sensory language of smell, using olfactory imagery to describe the other shop-girls returning from breaks or coming back in the mornings:
In the evenings Denise would day-dream as she watched the girls going off with their lovers. Those who did not sleep at the Ladies’ Paradise would disappear until the next day, and when they returned to their departments they brought with them in their skirts the smell of the outside world, all the disquiet of the unknown.
When these other, more experienced girls enter the store from the outside, they trail smells that are unfamiliar to Denise. Smelling them makes her curious, and she experiences the "disquiet of the unknown" every time she encounters them. The aromas the girls bring with them into the opulent, manicured atmosphere of the department store carry some of Paris's grime and excitement to Denise. She is disturbed by these smells, but they make her more interested in finding their sources herself. This is important for the plot, as it's implied that the smells of sexual encounters—as well as the streets and chambers of Paris—are also trapped in the folds of these voluminous skirts.
As Mouret struggles to understand his obsession with Denise, he comes to the conclusion that it must be because her charm exudes from her like perfume. Zola describes the effects of this using a metaphor:
She possessed all the good to be found in women—courage, gaiety, simplicity—and her gentleness exuded charm with the penetrating subtlety of perfume. One could ignore her, elbow her aside as if she was like any other girl; but soon the charm would begin to take effect with a slow but invincible force [...]
The metaphor in this passage illustrates that Denise’s universal appeal is impossible to avoid when close to her, just as smelling her perfume would be. Comparing Denise's charm to "the penetrating subtlety of perfume" conveys the idea that the draw she exacts on people is innate and all-encompassing. She is always affecting those around her in a subtle yet unavoidable way. Charm emanates from her like a scent, whether she wants it to or not. This implies that her appeal, of “gentleness” and “courage, gaiety, simplicity” is not something she actively projects or forces upon other people. She simply can’t turn it off, even if she wants to. The description of the charm's effect as "slow but invincible" further emphasizes its intense impact. Zola even treats “the charm” as if it’s something separate from Denise herself, “a gentle but unstoppable force.”
In this passage, the author uses a metaphor to present The Ladies' Paradise as a church of sorts, suggesting that Mouret has actually created a new religion with the birth of the department store:
His creation was producing a new religion; churches, which were being gradually deserted by those of wavering faith, were being replaced by his bazaar. Women came to spend their hours of leisure in his shop, the thrilling, disturbing hours which in the past they’d spent in the depths of a chapel; for this expenditure of nervous passion was necessary, it was part of the recurring struggle between a god and a husband, the ceaselessly renewed cult of the body, with the divine future life of beauty. If he had closed his doors, there would have been a rising in the street, a desperate outcry from the worshippers whose confessional and altar he would have abolished.
Previously to this, the novel had suggested that the department store has become influential enough to take the place of a church in the lives of Parisians. In this passage, it’s an overt statement. Women, the new "worshippers" in this temple of commerce, have abandoned traditional religion and are instead devoting their time to worshiping material culture, “the divine future life of beauty” and “the ceaseless cult of the body.” The metaphor comparing the store to a church exemplifies Zola’s argument that consumerism is the new religion of the age. In this “religion,” the department store has become the place of congregation and devotion. It’s also the new site where women can engage with “the recurring struggle between a god and a husband,” as they spend money in this “Paradise” without their partners in tow. This metaphor extends to suggest a complete inversion of spiritual and physical priorities in during France's Second Empire. When religion is removed from the center of life, Zola implies, consumerism replaces it.
The passage goes on to suggest that if The Ladies’ Paradise were to close, the reaction of the "worshippers" would be like that of a group of fanatical religious devotees deprived of their place of worship. Closing the doors would “abolish” the “altar” of the “worshippers” and provoke a “desperate outcry.” The word “confessional” here further solidifies the metaphor, drawing a direct parallel between the act of shopping and the Catholic religious practice of confession. In a confessional, a confessor can share their sins with a priest, whispering their most shameful secrets, needs and desires in the hope of forgiveness from God. However, when The Ladies’ Paradise is the “confessional,” desires and cravings are not "whispered," they're celebrated and indulged.