hter----" (this with the air of a man uttering an epigram, by
no means lost upon any woman in the room, for every woman was listening
without appearing to do so.) "And as for myself," he continued, "I am
delighted to have the opportunity of paying my homage to you."

He spoke easily and fluently, as some great lord might speak under the
roof of his inferiors; and as he listened to Zephirine's involved reply,
he cast a glance over the room to consider the effect that he wished
to make. The pause gave him time to discover Francis du Hautoy and the
prefect; to bow gracefully to each with the proper shade of difference
in his smile, and, finally, to approach Mme. du Chatelet as if he
had just caught sight of her. That meeting was the real event of the
evening. No one so much as thought of the marriage contract lying in
the adjoining bedroom, whither Francoise and the notary led guest
after guest to sign the document. Lucien made a step towards Louise de
Negrepelisse, and then spoke with that grace of manner now associated,
for her, with memories of Paris.

"Do I owe to you, madame, the pleasure of an invitation to dine at the
Prefecture the day after to-morrow?" he said.

"You owe it solely to your fame, monsieur," Louise answered drily,
somewhat taken aback by the turn of a phrase by which Lucien
deliberately tried to wound her pride.

"Ah! Madame la Comtesse, I cannot bring you the guest if the man is in
disgrace," said Lucien, and, without waiting for an answer, he turned
and greeted the Bishop with stately grace.

"Your lordship's prophecy has been partially fulfilled," he said, and
there was a winning charm in his tones; "I will endeavor to fulfil it to
the letter. I consider myself very fortunate since this evening brings
me an opportunity of paying my respects to you."

Lucien drew the Bishop into a conversation that lasted for ten minutes.
The women looked on Lucien as a phenomenon. His unexpected insolence
had struck Mme. du Chatelet dumb; she could not find an answer. Looking
round the room, she saw that every woman admired Lucien; she watched
group after group repeating the phrases by which Lucien crushed her with
seeming disdain, and her heart contracted with a spasm of mortification.

"Suppose that he should not come to the Prefecture after this, what talk
there would be!" she thought. "Where did he learn this pride? Can Mlle.
des Touches have taken a fancy for him? . . . He is so handsome. They
say that