itten by Bianchon in her album was a medical observation
striking so directly at woman, that Dinah could not fail to be hit by
it. And then Bianchon was leaving on the morrow; his practice required
his return. What woman, short of having Cupid's mythological dart in her
heart, could decide in so short a time?

These little things, which lead to such great catastrophes--having been
seen in a mass by Bianchon, he pronounced the verdict he had come to as
to Madame de la Baudraye in a few words to Lousteau, to the journalist's
great amazement.

While the two friends stood talking together, a storm was gathering in
the Sancerre circle, who could not in the least understand Lousteau's
paraphrases and commentaries, and who vented it on their hostess. Far
from finding in his talk the romance which the Public Prosecutor, the
Sous-prefet, the Presiding Judge, and his deputy, Lebas, had discovered
there--to say nothing of Monsieur de la Baudraye and Dinah--the ladies
now gathered round the tea-table, took the matter as a practical joke,
and accused the Muse of Sancerre of having a finger in it. They had all
looked forward to a delightful evening, and had all strained in vain
every faculty of their mind. Nothing makes provincial folks so angry as
the notion of having been a laughing-stock for Paris folks.

Madame Piedefer left the table to say to her daughter, "Do go and talk
to the ladies; they are quite annoyed by your behavior."

Lousteau could not fail to see Dinah's great superiority over the best
women of Sancerre; she was better dressed, her movements were graceful,
her complexion was exquisitely white by candlelight--in short, she stood
out against this background of old faces, shy and ill-dressed girls,
like a queen in the midst of her court. Visions of Paris faded from his
brain; Lousteau was accepting the provincial surroundings; and while he
had too much imagination to remain unimpressed by the royal splendor
of this chateau, the beautiful carvings, and the antique beauty of the
rooms, he had also too much experience to overlook the value of the
personality which completed this gem of the Renaissance. So by the time
the visitors from Sancerre had taken their leave one by one--for
they had an hour's drive before them--when no one remained in the
drawing-room but Monsieur de Clagny, Monsieur Lebas, Gatien, and
Monsieur Gravier, who were all to sleep at Anzy--the journalist had
already changed his mind about Dinah. His