ing close to them on her footstool. They had raised
their voices without noticing her, and she must have overheard them.
Nevertheless, she continued sitting there stiff and motionless, not a
hair having lifted on her thin neck, which was that of a girl who has
shot up all too quickly. Thereupon they retired three or four paces, and
Vandeuvres vowed that the countess was a very honest woman. Just then
voices were raised in front of the hearth. Mme du Joncquoy was saying:

"I was willing to grant you that Monsieur de Bismarck was perhaps a
witty man. Only, if you go as far as to talk of genius--"

The ladies had come round again to their earliest topic of conversation.

"What the deuce! Still Monsieur de Bismarck!" muttered Fauchery. "This
time I make my escape for good and all."

"Wait a bit," said Vandeuvres, "we must have a definite no from the
count."

The Count Muffat was talking to his father-in-law and a certain
serious-looking gentleman. Vandeuvres drew him away and renewed the
invitation, backing it up with the information that he was to be at
the supper himself. A man might go anywhere; no one could think of
suspecting evil where at most there could only be curiosity. The count
listened to these arguments with downcast eyes and expressionless
face. Vandeuvres felt him to be hesitating when the Marquis de Chouard
approached with a look of interrogation. And when the latter was
informed of the question in hand and Fauchery had invited him in his
turn, he looked at his son-in-law furtively. There ensued an embarrassed
silence, but both men encouraged one another and would doubtless have
ended by accepting had not Count Muffat perceived M. Venot's gaze
fixed upon him. The little old man was no longer smiling; his face was
cadaverous, his eyes bright and keen as steel.

"No," replied the count directly, in so decisive a tone that further
insistence became impossible.

Then the marquis refused with even greater severity of expression. He
talked morality. The aristocratic classes ought to set a good example.
Fauchery smiled and shook hands with Vandeuvres. He did not wait for
him and took his departure immediately, for he was due at his newspaper
office.

"At Nana's at midnight, eh?"

La Faloise retired too. Steiner had made his bow to the countess. Other
men followed them, and the same phrase went round--"At midnight, at
Nana's"--as they went to get their overcoats in the anteroom. Georges,
who could not le