ain
intercourse with the nobility. Roudier even gave out that the marquis
had begged to be excused because his fear of the insurgents had given
him jaundice. At the second course they all scrambled like hounds at
the quarry. The oil-dealers and almond-dealers were the men who saved
France. They clinked glasses to the glory of the Rougons. Granoux, who
was very red, began to stammer, while Vuillet, very pale, was quite
drunk. Nevertheless Sicardot continued filling his glass. For her part
Angele, who had already eaten too much, prepared herself some sugar and
water. The gentlemen were so delighted at being freed from panic, and
finding themselves together again in that yellow drawing-room, round a
good table, in the bright light radiating from the candelabra and
the chandelier--which they now saw for the first time without its
fly-specked cover--that they gave way to most exuberant folly and
indulged in the coarsest enjoyment. Their voices rose in the warm
atmosphere more huskily and eulogistically at each successive dish till
they could scarcely invent fresh compliments. However, one of them, an
old retired master-tanner, hit upon this fine phrase--that the dinner
was a "perfect feast worthy of Lucullus."

Pierre was radiant, and his big pale face perspired with triumph.
Felicite, already accustoming herself to her new station in life, said
that they would probably rent poor Monsieur Peirotte's flat until they
could purchase a house of their own in the new town. She was already
planning how she would place her future furniture in the receiver's
rooms. She was entering into possession of her Tuileries. At one
moment, however, as the uproar of voices became deafening, she seemed to
recollect something, and quitting her seat she whispered in Aristide's
ear: "And Silvere?"

The young man started with surprise at the question.

"He is dead," he replied, likewise in a whisper. "I was there when the
gendarme blew his brains out with a pistol."

Felicite in her turn shuddered. She opened her mouth to ask her son
why he had not prevented this murder by claiming the lad; but abruptly
hesitating she remained there speechless. Then Aristide, who had read
her question on her quivering lips, whispered: "You understand, I said
nothing--so much the worse for him! I did quite right. It's a good
riddance."

This brutal frankness displeased Felicite. So Aristide had his skeleton,
like his father and mother. He would certainly not ha