第 7 页

laden with silver and crystal. The room, of a soft mossy green, had an

unassuming charm in the pale light, and the table which in the centre

displayed the richness of its covers and the immaculate whiteness of its

linen adorned with Venetian point, seemed to have flowered miraculously

with a wealth of large tea roses, most admirable blooms for the season,

and of delicious perfume.

The Baroness seated the General on her right, and Amadieu on her left.

The Baron on his right placed Duthil, and on his left Gerard. Then the

young people installed themselves at either end, Camille between Gerard

and the General, and Hyacinthe between Duthil and Amadieu. And forthwith,

from the moment of starting on the scrambled eggs and truffles,

conversation began, the usual conversation of Parisian _dejeuners_, when

every event, great or little, of the morning or the day before is passed

in review: the truths and the falsehoods current in every social sphere,

the financial scandal, and the political adventure of the hour, the novel

that has just appeared, the play that has just been produced, the stories

which should only be retailed in whispers, but which are repeated aloud.

And beneath all the light wit which circulates, beneath all the laughter,

which often has a false ring, each retains his or her particular worry,

or distress of mind, at times so acute that it becomes perfect agony.

With his quiet and wonted impudence, the Baron, bravely enough, was the

first to speak of the article in the "Voix du Peuple." "I say, have you

read Sagnier's article this morning? It's a good one; he has _verve_ you

know, but what a dangerous lunatic he is!"

This set everybody at ease, for the article would certainly have weighed

upon the _dejeuner_ had no one mentioned it.

"It's the 'Panama' dodge over again!" cried Duthil. "But no, no, we've

had quite enough of it!"

"Why," resumed the Baron, "the affair of the African Railway Lines is as

clear as spring water! All those whom Sagnier threatens may sleep in

peace. The truth is that it's a scheme to upset Barroux's ministry. Leave

to interpellate will certainly be asked for this afternoon. You'll see

what a fine uproar there'll be in the Chamber."

"That libellous, scandal-seeking press," said Amadieu gravely, "is a

dissolving agent which will bring France to ruin. We ought to have laws

against it."

The General made an angry gesture: "Laws, what's the use of them, since

nobody has the courage to enforce them."

Silence fell. With a light, discreet step the house-steward presented

some grilled mullet. So noiseless was the service amid the cheerful

perfumed warmth that not even the faintest clatter of crockery was heard.

Without anyone knowing how it had come about, however, the conversation

had suddenly changed; and somebody inquired: "So the revival of the piece

is postponed?"

"Yes," said Gerard, "I heard this morning that 'Polyeucte' wouldn't get

its turn till April at the earliest."

At this Camille, who had hitherto remained silent, watching the young

Count and seeking to win him back, turned her glittering eyes upon her

father and mother. It was a question of that revival in which Silviane

was so stubbornly determined to make her _debut_. However, the Baron and

the Baroness evinced perfect serenity, having long been acquainted with

all that concerned each other. Moreover Eve was too much occupied with

her own passion to think of anything else; and the Baron too busy with

the fresh application which he intended to make in tempestuous fashion at

the Ministry of Fine Arts, so as to wrest Silviane's engagement from

those in office. He contented himself with saying: "How would you have

them revive pieces at the Comedie! They have no actresses left there."

"Oh, by the way," the Baroness on her side simply remarked, "yesterday,

in that play at the Vaudeville, Delphine Vignot wore such an exquisite

gown. She's the only one too who knows how to arrange her hair."

Thereupon Duthil, in somewhat veiled language, began to relate a story

about Delphine and a well-known senator. And then came another scandal,

the sudden and almost suspicious death of a lady friend of the

Duvillards'; whereupon the General, without any transition, broke in to

relieve his bitter feelings by denouncing the idiotic manner in which the

army was nowadays organised. Meantime the old Bordeaux glittered like

ruby blood in the delicate crystal glasses. A truffled fillet of venison

had just cast its somewhat sharp scent amidst the dying perfume of the

roses, when some asparagus made its appearance, a _primeur_ which once

had been so rare but which no longer caused any astonishment.

"Nowadays we get it all through the winter," said the Baron with a

gesture of disenchantment.

"And so," asked Gerard at the same moment, "the Princess de Harn's

_matinee_ is for this afternoon?"

Camille quickly intervened. "Yes, this afternoon. Shall you go?"

"No, I don't think so, I shan't be able," replied the young man in

embarrassment.

"Ah! that little Princess, she's really deranged you know," exclaimed

Duthil. "You are aware that she calls herself a widow? But the truth, it

seems, is that her husband, a real Prince, connected with a royal house

and very handsome, is travelling about the world in the company of a

singer. She with her vicious urchin-like face preferred to come and reign

in Paris, in that mansion of the Avenue Hoche, which is certainly the

most extraordinary Noah's ark imaginable, with its swarming of

cosmopolitan society indulging in every extravagance!"

"Be quiet, you malicious fellow," the Baroness gently interrupted. "We,

here, are very fond of Rosemonde, who is a charming woman."

"Oh! certainly," Camille again resumed. "She invited us; and we are going

to her place by-and-by, are we not, mamma?"

To avoid replying, the Baroness pretended that she did not hear, whilst

Duthil, who seemed to be well-informed concerning the Princess, continued

to make merry over her intended _matinee_, at which she meant to produce

some Spanish dancing girls, whose performance was so very indecorous that

all Paris, forewarned of the circumstance, would certainly swarm to her

house. And he added: "You've heard that she has given up painting. Yes,

she busies herself with chemistry. Her _salon_ is full of Anarchists

now--and, by the way, it seemed to me that she had cast her eyes on you,

my dear Hyacinthe."

Hyacinthe had hitherto held his tongue, as if he took no interest in

anything. "Oh! she bores me to death," he now condescended to reply. "If

I'm going to her _matinee_ it's simply in the hope of meeting my friend

young Lord George Eldrett, who wrote to me from London to give me an

appointment at the Princess's. And I admit that hers is the only _salon_

where I find somebody to talk to."

"And so," asked Amadieu in an ironical way, "you have now gone over to

Anarchism?"

With his air of lofty elegance Hyacinthe imperturbably confessed his

creed: "But it seems to me, monsieur, that in these times of universal

baseness and ignominy, no man of any distinction can be other than an

Anarchist."

A laugh ran round the table. Hyacinthe was very much spoilt, and

considered very entertaining. His father in particular was immensely

amused by the notion that he of all men should have an Anarchist for a

son. However, the General, in his rancorous moments, talked anarchically

enough of blowing up a society which was so stupid as to let itself be

led by half a dozen disreputable characters. And, indeed, the

investigating magistrate, who was gradually making a specialty of

Anarchist affairs, proved the only one who opposed the young man,

defending threatened civilisation and giving terrifying particulars

concerning what he called the army of devastation and massacre. The

others, while partaking of some delicious duck's-liver _pate_, which the

house-steward handed around, continued smiling. There was so much misery,

said they; one must take everything into account: things would surely end

by righting themselves. And the Baron himself declared, in a conciliatory

manner: "It's certain that one might do something, though nobody knows

exactly what. As for all sensible and moderate claims, oh! I agree to

them in advance. For instance, the lot of the working classes may be

ameliorated, charitable enterprises may be undertaken, such, for

instance, as our Asylum for the Invalids of Labour, which we have reason

to be proud of. But we must not be asked for impossibilities."

With the dessert came a sudden spell of silence; it was as if, amidst the

restless fluttering of the conversation, and the dizziness born of the

copious meal, each one's worry or distress was again wringing the heart

and setting an expression of perturbation on the countenance. The nervous

unconscientiousness of Duthil, threatened with denunciation, was seen to

revive; so, too, the anxious anger of the Baron, who was meditating how

he might possibly manage to content Silviane. That woman was this sturdy,

powerful man's taint, the secret sore which would perhaps end by eating

him away and destroying him. But it was the frightful drama in which the

Baroness, Camille and Gerard were concerned that flitted by most visibly

across the faces of all three of them: that hateful rivalry of mother and

daughter, contending for the man they loved. And, meantime, the

silver-gilt blades of the dessert-knives were delicately peeling choice

fruit. And there were bunches of golden grapes looking beautifully fresh,

and a procession of sweetmeats, little cakes, an infinity of dainties,

over which the most satiated appetites lingered complacently.

Then, just as the finger-glasses were being served, a footman came and

bent over the Baroness, who answered in an undertone, "Well, show him

into the _salon_, I will join him there." And aloud to the others she

added: "It's Monsieur l'Abbe Froment, who has called and asks most

particularly to see me. He won't be in our way; I think that almost all

of you know him. Oh! he's a genuine saint, and I have much sympathy for

him."

For a few minutes longer they loitered round the table, and then at last

quitted the dining-room, which was full of the odours of viands, wines,

fruits and roses; quite warm, too, with the heat thrown out by the big

logs of firewood, which were falling into embers amidst the somewhat

jumbled brightness of all the crystal and silver, and the pale, delicate

light which fell upon the disorderly table.

Pierre had remained standing in the centre of the little blue and silver

_salon_. Seeing a tray on which the coffee and the liqueurs were in

readiness, he regretted that he had insisted upon being received. And his

embarrassment increased when the company came in rather noisily, with

bright eyes and rosy cheeks. However, his charitable fervour had revived

so ardently within him that he overcame this embarrassment, and all that

remained to him of it was a slight feeling of discomfort at bringing the

whole frightful morning which he had just spent amid such scenes of

wretchedness, so much darkness and cold, so much filth and hunger, into

this bright, warm, perfumed affluence, where the useless and the

superfluous overflowed around those folks who seemed so gay at having

made a delightful meal.

However, the Baroness at once came forward with Gerard, for it was

through the latter, whose mother he knew, that the priest had been

presented to the Duvillards at the time of the famous conversion. And as

he apologised for having called at such an inconvenient hour, the

Baroness responded: "But you are always welcome, Monsieur l'Abbe. You

will allow me just to attend to my guests, won't you? I will be with you

in an instant."

She thereupon returned to the table on which the tray had been placed, in

order to serve the coffee and the liqueurs, with her daughter's

assistance. Gerard, however, remained with Pierre; and, it so chanced,

began to speak to him of the Asylum for the Invalids of Labour, where

they had met one another at the recent laying of the foundation-stone of

a new pavilion which was being erected, thanks to a handsome donation of

100,000 francs made by Baron Duvillard. So far, the enterprise only

comprised four pavilions out of the fourteen which it was proposed to

erect on the vast site given by the City of Paris on the peninsula of

Gennevilliers*; and so the subscription fund remained open, and, indeed,

no little noise was made over this charitable enterprise, which was

regarded as a complete and peremptory reply to the accusations of those

evilly disposed persons who charged the satiated _bourgeoisie_ with doing

nothing for the workers. But the truth was that a magnificent chapel,

erected in the centre of the site, had absorbed two-thirds of the funds

hitherto collected. Numerous lady patronesses, chosen from all the

"worlds" of Paris--the Baroness Duvillard, the Countess de Quinsac, the

Princess Rosemonde de Harn, and a score of others--were entrusted with

the task of keeping the enterprise alive by dint of collections and fancy

bazaars. But success had been chiefly obtained, thanks to the happy idea

of ridding the ladies of all the weighty cares of organisation, by

choosing as managing director a certain Fonsegue, who, besides being a

deputy and editor of the "Globe" newspaper, was a prodigious promoter of

all sorts of enterprises. And the "Globe" never paused in its propaganda,

but answered the attacks of the revolutionaries by extolling the

inexhaustible charity of the governing classes in such wise that, at the

last elections, the enterprise had served as a victorious electoral