in fell to drinking. They
shouted to one another; they stirred each other up, but a dreary species
of intoxication, which was stupid enough to drive one to despair,
began to overcome the company beyond hope of recovery. Then the little
fair-haired fellow, the man who bore one of the greatest names in France
and had reached his wit's end and was desperate at the thought that he
could not hit upon something really funny, conceived a brilliant notion:
he snatched up his bottle of champagne and poured its contents into the
piano. His allies were convulsed with laughter.

"La now! Why's he putting champagne into the piano?" asked Tatan Nene in
great astonishment as she caught sight of him.

"What, my lass, you don't know why he's doing that?" replied Labordette
solemnly. "There's nothing so good as champagne for pianos. It gives 'em
tone."

"Ah," murmured Tatan Nene with conviction.

And when the rest began laughing at her she grew angry. How should she
know? They were always confusing her.

Decidedly the evening was becoming a big failure. The night threatened
to end in the unloveliest way. In a corner by themselves Maria Blond and
Lea de Horn had begun squabbling at close quarters, the former accusing
the latter of consorting with people of insufficient wealth. They were
getting vastly abusive over it, their chief stumbling block being the
good looks of the men in question. Lucy, who was plain, got them to hold
their tongues. Good looks were nothing, according to her; good figures
were what was wanted. Farther off, on a sofa, an attache had slipped his
arm round Simonne's waist and was trying to kiss her neck, but Simonne,
sullen and thoroughly out of sorts, pushed him away at every fresh
attempt with cries of "You're pestering me!" and sound slaps of the fan
across his face. For the matter of that, not one of the ladies allowed
herself to be touched. Did people take them for light women? Gaga, in
the meantime, had once more caught La Faloise and had almost hoisted
him upon her knees while Clarisse was disappearing from view between
two gentlemen, shaking with nervous laughter as women will when they are
tickled. Round about the piano they were still busy with their little
game, for they were suffering from a fit of stupid imbecility, which
caused each man to jostle his fellow in his frantic desire to empty his
bottle into the instrument. It was a simple process and a charming one.

"Now then, old boy, drink a glass!